Wife of a Don, Queen of Myself

Seeing that I had set the cake down without taking a bite, Raimondo Brocchi reached for my hand and stroked it gently. "What's wrong, amore mio? Not feeling well?"

I looked into his concerned eyes, put my phone away, and forced down the revulsion churning inside me. Then, I curled my lips into a faint smile.

Just seconds ago, he had been mocking me with Anna Altamura, his secretary and lover. Now, he was putting on the act of a devoted husband, so hopelessly in love with his wife.

I couldn't help but wonder how much longer he could keep up the performance in front of me.

"I'm fine," I said. "I was just curious what you two were talking about. It sounded like you guys were making a funny joke."

Raimondo glanced toward Anna, who was seated outside the office. They exchanged a knowing smile.

He then turned back to me, smiling as he placed the cake into my hands and affectionately brushed a finger along the bridge of my nose.

"We were just talking about a client," he said. "She's getting older and keeps changing her mind every other day. A real pain in the ass."

I took a small bite of frosting. The sweet cream somehow tasted bitter on my tongue.

Raimondo had forgotten that my Nonno built his empire in Sicaria, where I spent almost six years growing up under his care. He had even forgotten that the first time he confessed to me, he did it in Italese.

"I'm tired. I'm going to rest for a while," I said.

Ignoring the flicker of surprise in Raimondo's eyes, I stood and headed for the lounge. I didn't hesitate to brush away his hand that was holding onto me.

He froze, concern filling his voice. "Amore mio, what's the matter?"

Everyone around us looked at me with envy. In the past, I would've felt proud of it—smug, even.

The man I chose was naturally the best in every way. Unfortunately, his affection was never mine alone. He handed it out just as easily to younger, prettier women.

"It's nothing. You should get back to work. Don't you have a meeting to get to?" I reminded him, wearing a perfunctory smile.

Raimondo nodded. "Alright, then. Get some rest. Anna's waiting for me for the meeting."

With that, he left. Standing by the door, Anna made sure to throw me one last provocative glance before trailing after him.

I knew she was doing it deliberately. In fact, she understood better than Raimondo that I could understand every word of their conversation.

I pushed her to the back of my mind and numbly walked into Raimondo's private lounge. I only wanted a moment to collect myself, yet with just a casual glance, I spotted a used condom tossed carelessly into the trash can.

That was the man I had loved for a decade.

At that moment, I couldn't even tell anymore whether all those times he claimed he was busy with work had been real. Or had they simply been excuses to fool around with Anna behind my back?

Nausea twisted violently in my stomach. I rushed into the bathroom, bracing both hands against the sink as I retched uncontrollably.

The water kept running while I scrubbed my lips again and again, as if I could wash away every trace of Raimondo's touch from moments earlier.

When I finally looked up again, my miserable reflection in the mirror stared back at me. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. It grew harsher and louder until I finally covered my face and broke into quiet sobs.

All this time, I wanted to give my baby a family. Now, it would stay nothing more than a wishful dream.

I sat alone on the lounge floor in a daze when my phone suddenly vibrated, cutting through my thoughts. In that split second, I realized that our marriage was truly, irreversibly over.

A name flashed across my phone screen—Lina Serafini, the only friend I could trust.

"Cassia, I just saw your reply to the email. This is great! You finally agreed to come back to your work. I'm seriously so happy you're returning!" she exclaimed.

"How about a flight three days from now in the afternoon? That still gives you more time to spend with your Don."

"Lina, I need your help…" I said. "I need you to fake a plane crash."

"Huh, why? Is that your husband's idea?"

A bitter smile tugged at my lips. "No, it's mine. Our marriage is over, Lina. I know him; he's paranoid, obsessive, and too proud for his own good. The only way he'll truly let me go is if he believes I'm dead."

Silence lingered on the line for a long time before she let out a weary sigh. "Fine. I'll arrange top-level security for you and make sure your identity disappears for good."

…

After the plane returned to Sicaria, Raimondo escorted me back to the estate, only to leave again. I finally breathed easier. After dismissing the household staff, I started packing my bags.

Inside the wardrobe hung Raimondo's tailored suits that I had personally picked out for him over the years. On the vanity sat the jewelry he had gifted me on anniversaries and holidays.

Everywhere around the room were thousands of intimate photos we had taken together over the past decade. One fire in the fireplace consumed them all. Our memories turned into ashes.

When the night fell, my phone lit up with a call from Lina. "Everything's set in place. We'll execute the plan in two days."

"Grazie mille, Lina. Once I leave—"

Before I could finish, a familiar, deep voice sounded from behind me. "What are you talking about, amore mio? You're leaving?"