The Past Is a Wound That Won't Heal

Isabella's POV

When I didn't respond, Ricardo frowned at me.

"Isabella, did you hear what I said?"

I jerked my head up, the sunlight sharp in my eyes.

The man in front of me—Ricardo Gambino—was the man I had "loved" for 11 years. Staring at the impossibly familiar face, memories came flooding back.

I remembered the day he knelt on one knee and proposed to me, his eyes full of love and affection.

I remembered him at our wedding, eyes red, swearing on the honor of the Gambino Famiglia that he would love me for the rest of his life.

But somewhere along the way, he started staying out all night. He always brushed me off by saying he was busy with Famiglia matters, yet he took another woman with him to all kinds of banquets, leaving me sitting alone on the balcony of the family estate until dawn.

He believed that he was continuing the Gambino bloodline by letting Lucia bear his child, while also preserving the dignity of his "legitimate but infertile wife". What he didn't know was that this so-called goodwill actually cut deeper than any knife ever could.

Shaking off my thoughts, I stood and looked him straight in the eyes.

"Ricardo," I started, my tone calm. "We're divorced. I'm no longer Mrs. Gambino."

He froze.

As I turned to leave, my eyes caught the wedding ring on his finger. I had personally designed the ring back then. It was engraved with the family crest, and only this single pair existed in all of Slatilli.

"Also," I added, pointing at his hand with a small smile. "I've already thrown my ring away. You should take yours off too."

Ricardo stared at me wide-eyed, his face darkening. After confirming that I really wasn't wearing the ring, his gaze hardened even more. But I didn't care in the slightest.

"The divorce papers were signed a month ago. They're in the study. You can go look. I left empty-handed. I didn't touch a penny of the Gambino fortune.

"But the black opal pendant is my mother's heirloom. I left it at an antique restoration shop for maintenance. I'll collect it myself later."

I was about to head inside when Ricardo blocked me. I thought he was going to hysterically demand to know why I wanted a divorce, but instead, he let out a short, incredulous laugh.

"Stop messing around, Isabella. You can't joke about something like this."

I stared at him, dead serious. "I'm not joking. We really are divorced."

When he saw my stern expression, a smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth, as if he had been holding it in for a long time.

"Alright, Isabella. Even jokes have limits. Without the Gambino Famiglia's protection, you wouldn't be able to survive past three days in Slatilli. You have no other Famiglia to rely on anymore. Who else would take care of you?

"Besides, you've been married to me for three years, and you've long been used to living in comfort. If you leave empty-handed, you won't even be able to buy a slice of bread. And don't tell me you're going back to being a designer. Without the Gambino name, your designs are worthless."

He thought he knew me. He was convinced I couldn't survive without the Gambino Famiglia.

After he finished, he ruffled my hair and said gently, "When you're done with your tantrum, head back to the estate. I have some Famiglia business to take care of over the next few days. I'm off."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and left.

I watched his departing figure and shook my head.

"Famiglia business" was just his excuse to visit his old lover, Lucia Valentori. He thought I was infertile, so he openly kept a mistress. What he didn't know was that there was nothing wrong with me. The one who was truly incapable of giving the Gambino Famiglia an heir… was him.

My phone vibrated. I answered.

"Signora, we confirmed that your medical report from back then was indeed tampered with. The infertility diagnosis was forged.

"We've already identified the culprit, and we'll explain everything in detail when you arrive…"