The Marriage Lie

I clutched our marriage certificate in my hand as the clerk tapped a few keys on the computer. She looked up at me, sympathy in her eyes.

"Ms. Mancini, our records show that you're unmarried. But Mr. Dante Vitale is married, and Isabella Medici is listed as his spouse. Do you know her?"

I froze.

Three years ago, Dante Vitale, the Don of the Sicilian Mafia, had slipped the ring symbolizing a Donna onto my finger in front of the entire Mafia.

He'd taken my hand and stood before my late father's portrait, swearing, "Marie, your father gave his life to save mine. From this day forward, the Vitale family is yours, and so am I."

But it turned out that, legally, I was unmarried. Isabella was the real Mrs. Vitale.

Isabella had joined the family five years ago as one of Dante's newly recruited subordinates. She was strikingly beautiful and quickly caught the family's attention.

Dante noticed her, too. He promoted her to his side, making her the person he trusted most.

"She's just my assistant," he explained to me. "She's good at her job, and she made it through a rigorous selection process. I can't just transfer her somewhere else."

So I'd tolerated it, again and again.

I'd never imagined that by continuing to put up with everything, I'd eventually turn myself into the biggest joke of all.

My phone vibrated, and a message from Dante appeared.

"Baby, I canceled my work plans and bought your favorite cake. I've missed you so much. Have you missed me?"

I laughed bitterly, tears filling my eyes.

Dante Vitale. At fifteen, he'd broken the ribs of three thugs who'd harassed me. At eighteen, he'd knelt beneath the fireworks and proposed to me. At twenty-two, he'd pledged his loyalty to me at our wedding.

And yet, he was the same man who'd repeatedly been summoned away by Isabella over the past three years.

Just then, an email arrived. I opened it and found a message from an old friend.

"I'm in Paris right now, and I've opened my own studio. Would you like to come work with me?"

My friend had invited me countless times before. Every time, I'd turned her down because of Dante. He always told me he wanted to spoil me and that I didn't need to work so hard or do so much for myself.

I'd believed him.

But this time, I replied to my friend, "Yes. I'll be in Paris in a week. Make sure you're there to meet me."

When I returned to the villa, Dante was cooking in the kitchen. He hurried over and wrapped his arms around me. "Where have you been?"

There was a faint trace of perfume on him that certainly wasn't mine.

Before I could answer, his phone rang.

He glanced at the screen, then kissed my forehead. "Baby, something urgent came up at work. I have to step out for a while. Dinner's ready, so go ahead and eat."

I knew it was Isabella.

At that very moment, my own phone vibrated with a message from her.

"Marie, I'm not feeling well. I'm asking Dante to come keep me company. You don't mind, do you? Or you could come see for yourself how Dante takes care of me."

I stared at the messages, clenching my fists.

I saved the entire conversation, then got into my car and followed him without a second thought.

The hospital's VIP floor had been cleared out. The hospital director stood bent forward in an apologetic bow. "Mr. Vitale, Miss Medici only suffered a few scrapes. We failed to take proper care of her."

Dante's expression darkened. "If this happens again, you can shut this hospital down."

In the hospital room, Isabella sat pale against the headboard, holding his hand. "It's all my fault. I kept you from spending time with Marie. I hate myself for it."

"Don't say that. There's nothing about you to hate."

I stood outside the door, my entire body rigid.

After a while, footsteps sounded in the hallway, and Dante emerged from the room.

I instinctively slipped into a corner and heard Luca Moretti, the underboss, say, "Don, Isabella's fine. It's just a few scrapes. Why don't you go home and spend some time with Marie? I don't understand. You clearly love Marie so much. Why did you marry Isabella?"

I clenched my fists in the corner as Dante answered.

"Luca, I do love Marie. She gets to enjoy my affection openly, where everyone can see it. Isabella can only stay in the shadows. So what if I gave her the title of wife to make up for it?"

Luca sighed. "Aren't you afraid Marie will find out? Knowing her, if she ever learns the truth, she wouldn't come back to you even if you died right in front of her."

Dante fell silent for a moment. "I'll make sure she never finds out."

Standing outside the door, I felt as though every drop of blood in my body had frozen. I thought I would break down and sob, but I discovered I couldn't even cry.

All the way to the hospital, I'd been wondering whether Dante had some reason for what he had done.

Now I finally understood. He'd simply fallen in love with two women at once.

He'd never intended to choose between us. He wanted one woman to occupy the place of his wife and the other to be his mistress.

Fine.

Dante was so afraid I'd find out, was he? Then I'd show him what it really meant to never look back.