Chapter 1

I stared at the number above Cardo's head, dazed.

He took off his coat and hung it on the right side of the entryway like always, then opened his arms and pulled me into a hug, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

"Why are you still up?"

He walked over and reached out to touch my face.

His palm was warm, his fingertips rough with the faint calluses years of holding a gun had left behind.

I hurriedly hid the pregnancy report behind my back and forced a smile.

"Tomorrow's our anniversary. Do you remember?"

Cardo smiled and pinched my cheek affectionately.

"Of course I remember. I already booked the restaurant. Seven o'clock, that waterfront table on the Hudson River you love."

"Phone off, no family business, no seeing anyone. The whole night is yours. Deal?"

The next second, the phone on the coffee table buzzed.

The screen lit up. The caller ID showed a single letter: C.

The moment Cardo saw it, he visibly tensed.

He picked up the phone and walked out to the balcony. Before the glass door slid shut, I heard a woman's panicked sobbing on the other end.

A few minutes later, Cardo came back in and grabbed the coat he'd just taken off.

"Something's come up on Camilla's end. I have to go over there."

I looked at him.

"It's one in the morning. Can't it wait until tomorrow?"

"Rival crews are looking for them. Ellie's home too. As Don, I can't just ignore it."

His tone was patient, like he was explaining family rules to a clueless outsider.

"Go to sleep. Don't wait up."

Again, that faint trace of rose on his cuff.

I didn't understand. "Can't you just assign her a bodyguard?"

Cardo frowned.

"Sweetheart, I'm the Don."

"Marco died for me. Protecting his family is my responsibility."

I looked at the number above his head and suddenly didn't want to ask anymore.

For seven years of marriage, I'd done exactly what a Donna was supposed to do.

When he worked into the early hours, I warmed his milk and made him a late-night meal.

When he went days without coming home for family meetings, I packed his clothes for him.

He expanded the business, protected the family, and never once got tangled up with a subordinate's widow.

I used to be proud of his boundaries, his restraint.

But somewhere along the way, his sense of duty had crossed the line of family rules and crept into late nights, holidays, and the life that was supposed to belong to just the two of us.

"Go."

I stepped aside to let him through.

Cardo seemed caught off guard that I'd agreed. He froze for two seconds, then bent down and kissed my forehead.

"I'll be back soon."

The moment he left, the number plummeted to three. A red three. Because I'd made up my mind. I'd decided to let go.

The house went quiet again.

I stood in the entryway, looking at the photo on the shoe cabinet, the one from our trip to Palermo.

In it, Cardo was holding me, smiling like he had the most precious treasure in the world.

Back then, his sudden embrace had scared me. I told him to be careful, not to drop me.

He said he wouldn't. He said as long as he held on tight, he'd never let go.

I went back to the bedroom and called my college classmate Rachel Donnelly.

She's a divorce attorney now, and the only old friend I still keep in touch with in New York.

The phone rang a long time before she picked up.

"Viv, calling this late? What's wrong?"

I looked at the half-empty bed, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Draw up a divorce agreement for me."