ข้าก็เป็นสวามีเช่นนี้

Luca didn't come after me when I left the estate.

Behind me, his friends were still hooting and hollering.

"Looks like she's trying a new move this year! Don't give in too fast, Boss!"

"Luca, she seems genuinely pissed off this time. Aren't you gonna go after her?"

Luca gave a quiet laugh, "She can't live without me. Give it a couple of hours, and she'll come crawling back on her own."

That very night, he opened the betting pool at the family's private casino.

Luca put down fifty thousand euros, betting I wouldn't last two days.

Isabella snapped a photo of the spare keys next to her breakfast and posted it to the group chat.

[Donna Trial—Day 1.]

The chat exploded immediately.

[Ciao, hats off to the Donna!]

[Looks like Isabella's taking over the master bedroom and the Boss's heart today!]

[Boss, if Isabella is the Donna now, everything in Viola's closet is fair game, right?]

Luca did nothing to put a stop to it. He chimed in: [Of course. Isabella, not just the clothes, everything in this house is yours. Enjoy.]

When I saw that message, I was clearing out dust in the small apartment I'd bought before getting married.

No one had lived here in a long time. The furniture had grown old, several patches of wallpaper had peeled off, and the dust made me sneeze the moment I walked in.

But at least here, no one treated my identity as a game reward.

The first year Isabella took my bathrobe, I broke down crying in front of everyone.

Luca held me and spent hours comforting me. He said he just wanted to see if I'd get jealous over him.

He even promised this was the first and last time.

Now, Isabella was pulling out my designer gowns from the closet one by one, trying them on and letting our family friends help her pick out which outfit suited a Donna best.

She put on my silk nightgown, did a little spin in front of Luca, and asked, "How's this one?"

Luca sat nearby, glancing up casually, "Honestly, it looks better on you than it does on her."

The room erupted into laughter again.

Someone asked why Viola hadn't shown up yet. Isabella's eyes welled up with fake tears, "Viola takes things way too seriously. It's just a game. I only did this to show her how much you two love each other. I had no idea she'd throw a fit and leave."

Luca pulled out a tissue and handed it to her, "Forget it. We all know she'll be back soon anyway."

Luca recorded all of it and sent it to me. He also sent me a text.

[Still upset? Don't be so stubborn, it's just a harmless joke. Every marriage needs a little passion. If you're going to keep playing the runaway wife, you might as well come take the rest of your things.]

When I went back, the estate guards refused to let me in. My fingerprint no longer worked either.

In the end, it was Isabella who opened the gates for me.

She was wearing my bathrobe, stepping around in my slippers.

The master bedroom had already been redecorated to her taste. My bedding had been swapped out, and my vanity had been completely cleared of my perfumes and jewelry.

Our wedding photo, which used to sit on the cabinet, was unceremoniously taken down and propped up in a dusty corner. Half of my face in the picture was blocked by a cardboard box.

Luca shoved the box toward me, "Viola, playing hard to get only works once."

Isabella bit her lip and murmured timidly, "Maybe... I should just move to the guest room?"

Yet despite her words, she remained rooted right there in the middle of our master bedroom, without the slightest intention of moving out.

As expected, Luca caught her arm, "The Donna sleeps in the master bedroom."

With that, he turned to look at me. A familiar glint of amusement danced in his eyes. He was waiting for me to rush forward to reclaim my room, or to break down crying, demanding to know who he truly loved.

Instead, I just picked up the cardboard box, "Is there anything else?"

For the first time, the smirk on Luca's lips faded.

He stared at me for a few long seconds before his voice turned cold, "Have it your way. Let's see how long you last."

I gave no response, turned around and shut the door.