Chapter 1

Twenty years into our marriage, my husband Luca fell in love with the new secretary at his company.

She was nearly forty, plain-looking, with neither my figure nor my family's power.

But in just half a year, she'd become his everything, all through the massive emotional support she gave him.

Luca looked at me, exhaustion written all over his face, and said, "I know this is my fault. So make your demands, Isabella. I'll agree to anything."

I lowered my head and answered calmly, "Okay."

Then I bought a calendar and circled a date.

Divorce countdown: 30 days.

When I handed Luca the divorce papers, only forty minutes had passed since he'd told me about the affair.

I didn't take everything from him.

I only asked for the penthouse in New York, two cars, and custody of Matteo.

He felt it wasn't enough, and insisted on paying me three million dollars in one lump sum as compensation and child support.

After that, Matteo and I would no longer be part of his life.

Luca was on a conference call at the time.

He glanced down at the words "Divorce Agreement," and his expression shifted slightly.

He nodded to show he understood. I left the room.

I didn't touch his things.

To save us both time, I only packed my own luggage.

The gowns, jewelry, furs, and watches he'd bought me—I didn't take a single one.

I left them all in the walk-in closet.

I only took the photos from before our marriage.

As I sorted through the last of it, I came across a picture from our engagement.

He'd just become Don then.

In the photo, Luca stood on the top floor of the tallest building in New York, the whole of Manhattan behind him.

He pointed out the window and said to me, "Isabella, all of this is yours."

But I never cared whether he succeeded or not.

Luca and I met in college.

He was the unfavored son of the Vitale family, wearing sneakers with worn-out heels, with barely any money in his pocket.

I came from the De Luca family.

Plenty of men pursued me—lawyers' sons, heirs of other families—but I fell for him at first sight.

He was steady, kind, handsome, with countless qualities I admired.

After graduation, marriage came naturally.

He co-founded the predecessor of Vitale Holdings with friends.

After I got pregnant, I stepped away from my career and became a full-time Mrs. Vitale, and later Donna.

I poured all my energy into Luca, Matteo, and this family.

As the Vitale family business grew bigger and bigger, Luca's meetings and social obligations multiplied.

Daytime was board meetings, unions, and politicians.

Nighttime was for family banquets, baptisms, and weddings.

In the midst of that busy life, I made time to work out, learn makeup, and learn how to stand beside a Don with dignity but without drawing attention.

Despite his packed schedule, Luca still made meatballs for Matteo on Sundays and occasionally drove him to school.

He also arranged doctors for my father and repaired my mother's old house.

To outsiders, we were the model of the Vitale family: the Don and his Donna, husband and wife, the perfect family.

I don't know when things started to change, but Luca began holding family meetings late into the night.

Sometimes he didn't come back to the estate at all, sleeping at the apartment in the city.

My friends, the women in the family, half-jokingly warned me to keep an eye on the Don, not to let some outside woman slip in.

I reassured them out loud, but unease began to stir inside me.

A few times, I had the driver deliver late-night snacks to Vitale Holdings headquarters.

The conference room was thick with smoke, the men speaking in low voices, everything looking perfectly normal.

Except for the quiet woman behind the secretary's desk.

Her name was Celeste.

Around forty, short, slender, with short hair.

She was plain, almost colorless, yet she spoke gently and always greeted people with a smile that didn't match her appearance.

Over the years, I'd imagined this day might come.

I thought it would be a glamorous mistress, a vivacious college girl, or a powerful businesswoman.

But I never imagined it would be her.

The secretary who noted down Luca's schedule every day and closed his office door for him.

Everyone at headquarters had heard she was divorced.

Her husband cheated, and she'd been deeply hurt.

It was her first job after the divorce, and she treasured it.

She arrived early, noticed everyone's little habits: who drank black coffee, who only smoked a certain cigar, who needed lunch ordered on Thursdays.

She occasionally baked pastries, and the people on the executive floor even set up lunch delivery with her for convenience.

After learning about her situation, I'd even suggested to Luca that he be more understanding toward her.

Luca always answered flatly, "The family office isn't a place for personal feelings. I've already made it clear there should be no transactions outside of work."

I'd joked then that he was a heartless Don.

Looking back now, maybe he was just feeling sorry for Celeste, having to cook extra after work.

As for why Luca chose today to ask for a divorce, it was simply because when I got up that morning, I poured myself a glass of red wine first.

He stared at the glass, sighed, and gently pushed his coffee cup away, silent for a long time.

Then he suddenly looked at me, his eyes full of exhaustion, and asked if we could divorce.

He admitted to the affair, said it had been going on for half a year, sneaking out late at night to see her.

My heart felt like it had been put through a sieve, but I kept my composure.

I had to know who.

When he said Celeste's name, I could barely believe my ears.

A secretary.

A secretary who noted down my schedule every day and closed Luca's door for him.

A wave of helplessness washed over me, cold and piercing.