Chapter 4

When I was discharged, the villa felt hollow.

The marble floors echoed when I walked in. The staff greeted me quietly, eyes lowered. No one asked how I felt.

“Where is Alessandro?” I asked.

The housekeeper hesitated.

“Boss hasn't been home for several days, Madam.”

I didn’t need to hear the rest. I already knew.

After the incident at the docks — after Bianca called him in tears — Alessandro had barely left her side. He drove her to and from the office himself. He had her moved out of her old apartment “for security reasons.” And then he bought her a five-million-dollar house. Guards at the gate. Cameras everywhere.

No one said it was a gift.

It was protection.

And in our world, protection meant ownership.

I stood at the living room and felt the cold settle into my bones.

Once, I had walked toward him without hesitation.

Once, I had believed his kneeling meant devotion.

I called him.

It rang for a long time before he answered.

The background was loud — men talking, glasses clinking, music faint in the distance.

“Yes?” His tone was distracted.

“Come home,” I said.

“Not now!”

I closed my eyes for a moment.

“Alessandro,” I said evenly, “do you remember what today is?”

Silence.

Then his voice shifted, just slightly.

“…I’ll be there.”

I waited.

Dusk bled into night. Night slipped into early morning.

At nearly 3 a.m., the front doors finally opened.

Bianca was there, one arm around him.

Alessandro rarely drank. He prided himself on control. I had never seen him allow himself to be unsteady.

Tonight, he was.

Looser than he should have been. His jacket hung open. His tie undone. His weight leaned heavier than usual against Bianca’s shoulder.

She looked up when she saw me.

“Mrs. De Luca …” she said softly. “It was my birthday. He insisted on staying. He doesn’t usually drink like this.”

Of course he didn’t.

He didn’t allow himself to lose control.

Unless he chose to.

I let out a sigh.

“So which role are you playing right now?” I asked. “Assistant—or mistress?”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“I never meant to—”

Alessandro shifted slightly.

Even half drunk, his instincts were still there.

He lifted his arm in front of without him even looking, as if to protect her.

“Seraphina…” he muttered. “… this isn’t her fault.”

That small, unconscious gesture took whatever was left in me. After that, I stopped feeling anything.

I called for the staff.

“Take him upstairs.”

They carried him to our bedroom.

Bianca was still standing in the foyer.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then I walked to the table and picked up a folder I had prepared earlier.

“I know what you want,” I said, handing it over.

Her eyes flickered down.

It was the annulment agreement.

“If you can have him sign this without him realizing what it is,” I continued calmly, “I will step aside. You will become the Boss’s Lady of the De Luca Family.”

She stared at me, surprised.

“You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

Her fingers paused over the folder before she finally picked it up.

“He wouldn’t sign something like this if he knew what it was,” she said.

“I’m not asking you to be honest,” I replied.

The next morning, Alessandro opened his eyes with a frown, rubbing his temple.

He was already dressed when I entered the sitting room.

“You didn’t make trouble for her last night, did you?” he asked immediately.

Not, How are you feeling?

I sat across from him.

“You once told me I would never spend our anniversary alone,” I said.

He went still.

For a second, something changed in his face.

“Yesterday wad Bianca’s birthday, I must be there for her, she .alrady lost a child” he said shortly. “Tell me what you want. I’ll make it right.”

“If I want an annulment?”

His expression turned dark in a second.

“Enough,” he said. “We are not having this conversation again.”

He reached for his coat.

“You’re not walking away from this marriage.”

“Do you love me?” I asked.

He didn’t answer.

His phone buzzed, cutting through the silence.

He looked down at it, annoyed.

“Shipment issue,” he said, barely glancing at me. “One of the harbor routes was flagged. It can’t wait.”

He left without another word. Smuggling routes did not pause for anything.

By the time he returned to the palazzo, his schedule was already stacked. Meetings with senior capos. A sit-down with the family consigliere. Two internal reviews regarding territory disputes.

Bianca had barely finished listing the agenda before the first group was shown in.

He moved through them efficiently. No wasted words.

Bianca waited until the last meeting cleared.

She knocked once and stepped inside.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said. She adjusted the folder slightly, then placed it on his desk.

“These need your signature before the Commission meets this afternoon.”

She set down a stack of documents.

Asset confirmations. Estate restructuring. Internal approvals.

Routine paperwork that crossed his desk every week.

Alessandro didn’t read them.

He rarely did when it came to internal matters.

He signed the first page.

Then the next.

Bianca kept her hands together, watching the pen move.

When he finished, he closed the folder and handed it back.

“Make sure it’s filed before five.”

Their fingers brushed as she took it.

She lowered her eyes quickly.

“Yes.”

She left the office without looking back, but once the door closed behind her, her steps slowed.

Her grip tightened around the folder.

She let out a quiet breath—not relief, but close. More like victory.

She came to the villa that evening.

I was in the sitting room when the maid told me she was here.

Bianca stepped inside alone.

She held the folder carefully.

“He signed,” she said.

She placed it on the table between us.

“You should stop standing between Alessandro and me,” she continued. “Being Boss’s Lady never suited you.”

I looked at her and said nothing.

“I was there before you,” she went on. “Before your engagement. Before the marriage.”

Her chin lifted.

“I’m not the mistress. You were.”

She didn’t bother looking fragile anymore. The girl who had cried about her miscarriage had disappeared. What stood in front of me now was the truth. Calculating. Done playing innocent.

“You said you wanted to leave,” she said. “Now you can. Don’t come back and complicate things.”

“Alessandro and I have history,” she added. “That doesn’t disappear because of a marriage contract.”

“You think this makes you his wife?” I asked quietly.

“It was always meant to be me.”

I reached for the folder, opened it, turned straight to the last page, and saw his signature — Alessandro De Luca.

Bianca watched me closely.

“You got what you wanted,” she said. “Pack your things and go.”

I closed the folder slowly.

“You should hope,” I said softly, “that he chooses you the way you think he does.”

“I’ll pack tonight,” I continued. “You won’t see me again.”

She left without another word.

I stood there for a long moment, staring at the document in my hands.

Then I rested my other hand against my belly.

For the first time since all of this began, I felt free.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you, my baby” I whispered.

And then I went upstairs to pack.