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Chapter 3

Author: Liora Z
The next morning.

I had the maid send that haute couture gown to Fiora's room.

Fiora made sure to leave her door wide open.

As I walked down the hall, I saw her twirling in front of the mirror. The gown was entirely wrong for her. It swallowed her whole.

She held a pair of sharp silver scissors. Without a second thought, she cut right into the skirt, slicing off the intricate diamond eagle—the ultimate symbol of the Falcone power.

"This gold embroidery is too heavy and old-fashioned," Fiora complained to the maid. "It needs to be shorter. Sexier."

The maid was shaking. She shot a terrified glance at me in the doorway and didn't dare say a word.

I didn't stop. I walked straight to the kitchen.

Santino drank hard last night. He suffers from severe stomach problems. Every time after a hangover, he needs a bowl of specially made herbal tea to soothe his stomach.

For seven years, I’ve personally brewed his herbal tea for him.

I stood by the stove, watching the dark liquid boil in the pot.

It would be the last time I ever made it for him.

I poured the tea into a bone-china cup and carried the tray to Santino's study.

The door was slightly ajar. Through the crack, I heard Santino talking to his Consigliere, Marco.

"Boss, didn't you push it too far this time?" Marco asked. "You took back the Donna ring. The bangle is destroyed. You even gave haute couture gown to Fiora. Arabella has been with you for seven years. She’d take a bullet for you. Are you really trying to drive her away?"

I froze in my tracks.

Santino's cold voice followed immediately.

"Where could she possibly go? She's an orphan who can't even remember her own past. She has nowhere to go but by my side."

"I've spoiled her far too much these past seven years, and her temper's only gotten worse. Fiora is emotionally unstable, and she must learn to back down."

"Once she's thoroughly learned her lesson and behaves herself, I'll naturally reserve a room for her and make sure she wants for nothing."

Marco sighed."By humiliating her like this, aren't you afraid she'll truly lose all hope?"

Santino let out a scornful sneer."Lose hope? Arabella's greatest skill in life is clinging to me like a vine. She can't leave me."

The tray tilted in my hands.

A few drops of scalding tea spilled onto the back of my hand.

The skin instantly blistered red.

But I didn't feel a thing.

I stared at the heavy wooden door for a second, then set the tray down on the console table in the hall.

I picked up the cup I’d spent two hours brewing and walked to the end of the corridor.

A pot of Santino's favorite black tulips sat by the window.

I flicked my wrist and poured the tea straight into the dark soil.

Right then, Fiora walked up to me. She was wearing the butchered dress.

She watched me empty the cup, a smug smirk twisting her lips.

"Arabella, Santino was just telling me that the master bedroom has better light and a nicer view. It would be good for my recovery."

She paused for effect. "He wants me to move in tonight. Shouldn't you be packing up your things to make room?"

The master bedroom of the Falcone estate. I had lived there for five years.

It was filled with traces of my life with Santino. Every inch of it breathed him.

I looked at Fiora's smug face and nodded.

"Fine. I'll pack now."

My calm acceptance seemed to bore her. The triumphant smirk on her face faltered. She opened her mouth to say more, but I was already walking away.

Back in the master bedroom, I looked around the space that had been mine for five years.

My paintings hung on the walls. Our photo sat on the desk. The closet was full of gowns he'd had made for me.

Everything here was a witness to the love we once shared.

And now, it would all belong to Fiora.

I took out a simple canvas bag. I packed a few paintbrushes, a passport, and my most precious pigments.

Nothing else. I didn't want any of it.

My phone vibrated.

A message from my brother, Matteo.

"All social traces of the 'Arabella' identity are being erased. Bank accounts, social security, all official records."

I carried the canvas bag out of the master bedroom and went straight to the storage room.

It was cold and damp, filled with the smell of mildew, but it was quiet.

Quiet enough to block out any sound I didn't want to hear.

I spread a thin blanket in a corner and sat down.
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  • The Don’s Wife Was Never His to Keep   Chapter 9

    ARABELLA'S POVTwo weeks later, our business in Chicago was finished.I sat at my desk, looking over the final report from my assistant."Miss, this is the update you requested on Fiora and Santino."I took the file and scanned it.Fiora had tried to steal Santino's last emergency funds and flee to Mexico. She was caught at the border by some of Santino's old enemies.They remembered her, parading around with the Falcone family ring.Her fate was worse than death.As for Santino... the man who craved absolute control had lost it completely. He was a slave to opioids, chasing a high to escape the migraines that now ruled his life.The report said he was barely coherent, lost in hallucinations most of the time.From the King of Chicago to a junkie on the street. It took less than a month."Get the car ready," I said, closing the file. "We're going to the airport.""Yes, Miss."I took one last look around the temporary office.Chicago. The city that had been my prison for seven years. I c

  • The Don’s Wife Was Never His to Keep   Chapter 8

    ARABELLA'S POVThe day after the Commission dinner, my brother Matteo issued a full sanction against the Falcone family.I sat in the penthouse suite of the Four Seasons, sipping coffee and looking out over the Chicago skyline.Half of this city once belonged to Santino Falcone.Now, it was all crumbling."Miss, the latest update," my assistant said, knocking and entering with a file. "Falcone family stock has been in freefall for twelve straight days. All banks have refused to extend them any credit."I opened the file and scanned the shocking numbers.Assets down ninety-five percent.Partners had pulled all their investments.Former allies had turned on him."Also, the FBI has issued a warrant for Santino Falcone's arrest," my assistant continued. "Though it seems he has no intention of running."I put the file down and walked to the window.On the street below, I saw a familiar figure.Santino.He had been standing there for seven days straight.Ever since the night of the dinner, h

  • The Don’s Wife Was Never His to Keep   Chapter 7

    SANTINO'S POVAt eight o'clock sharp, the ballroom lights dimmed.A single spotlight hit the top of the grand marble staircase.Everyone fell silent. All eyes turned.And then I saw him.Matteo Moretti.The head of New York's Five Families, dressed in a custom-tailored black tuxedo, descending the stairs.And on his arm was a woman.My heart stopped.She wore a Schiaparelli couture gown. The deep blue silk shimmered under the light.On her head was a diamond tiara—the legendary "Star of Moretti," a priceless family heirloom.Her every move radiated a chilling elegance. The kind of grace that's born, not made. A true princess.But that face...It was Arabella's face.No, that wasn't right.This woman looked exactly like Arabella, but her entire presence was different.She was cold, confident. Her eyes held an innate nobility, as if she were born to be worshipped under a spotlight.This wasn't the Arabella I knew."Ladies and gentlemen," Matteo's voice boomed through the ballroom. "Tonig

  • The Don’s Wife Was Never His to Keep   Chapter 6

    SANTINO'S POVI clutched my stomach, my face turning pale in an instant.Over these seven years, Arabella's special herbal tea had spoiled my stomach completely.Nothing else I ate or drank ever agreed with me—I felt nauseated at everything except the tea she brewed.I muttered, rubbing my temples. I grabbed my phone and dialed her number."The number you have dialed is no longer in service."No longer in service?I dialed again."The number you have dialed is no longer in service."I threw the phone against the wall. The screen exploded."Marco!Run a check on Arabella," I snarled. "Every cent she's ever spent. Every place she's ever stayed. Then find her. "Marco nodded frantically. "Yes, Boss."Half an hour later, Marco returned, the blood drained from his face. He was holding a stack of papers as if they were venomous snakes."Boss..." he whispered. "You need to see this."I snatched the files and flipped through them.The first was bank records.The Swiss accounts I had opened for A

  • The Don’s Wife Was Never His to Keep   Chapter 5

    SANTINO'S POVI sat on the leather sofa, holding a glass of cold whiskey.I loosened my tie and stared fixedly at the antique wall clock.The hour hand pointed to eleven o’clock at night.It had been exactly three hours since I’d thrown Arabella out.Fiora walked over to me with a plate of sliced fruit, trying to lean into my arms.“Santino, Miss Arabella is far too stubborn. It’s snowing so heavily outside—she must be hiding somewhere, waiting for you to go get her.”I roughly pushed Fiora’s hand away.The fruit plate crashed to the floor, fruit rolling everywhere.I stood up and strode to the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing out at the white snow-covered night.In the past seven years, Arabella had never left me for more than a day.No matter how coldly I treated her after a fight, she would always bring hot soup to my study the next morning.I was certain she wouldn’t dare leave for real, certain she would be frozen senseless in the snow and kneel outside the gate, begging me to open it.

  • The Don’s Wife Was Never His to Keep   Chapter 4

    As evening fell, it started to snow in Chicago.The flakes grew bigger, quickly turning into a blizzard.Santino finished the family business meeting and returned to the villa, cold and weary.Santino walked into the hall, swept his gaze across the crowd, and immediately frowned."Where is she?""Boss, the Miss... she moved into the most secluded storage room.”the butler,Leo, answered, his voice trembling."The most secluded storage room?" Santino's face darkened instantly.He strode over and kicked open the door of the storage room.BAM!The door was kicked open, slamming against the wall.Santino strode up to me, his gaze sweeping over the shabby room, finally resting on the withered canvas bag I had placed by the bedside."What game are you playing now?" "Fiora merely said she wanted the master bedroom. Who told you to move to a place like this? Are you deliberately giving me the cold shoulder?"I stood up and looked him straight in the eye."All the other guest rooms are filled w

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