บททั้งหมดของ The Don’s Wife Was Never His to Keep: บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 9

At the dinner party in the Falcone estate, Fiora held up her hand, showing off the ring symbolizing the Don’s wife on her ring finger to the socialites around her.Exclamations erupted from the crowd, who then turned mocking glances toward me in the corner.Santino sat at the head table, his gaze flickering over to me every now and then.After soaking up all the flattery, Fiora picked up a glass of red wine and walked over to me.Her gaze fell on my wrist.I wore an extremely rare jadeite bangle.It was a birthday gift from Santino three years ago. Knowing I loved antiques, he had bought it at an auction for fifty million dollars.Fiora let out a soft laugh and leaned deliberately close to my ear.“Arabella, since you’ve already handed over the ring that symbolizes the Don’s wife, don’t you think it’s inappropriate for you to wear jewelry that belongs to the lady of the Falcone family?”She reached out, trying to touch the bangle.I took a step back.Fiora took the opportunity to tilt t

The next morning.I had the maid send that haute couture gown to Fiora's room.Fiora made sure to leave her door wide open.As I walked down the hall, I saw her twirling in front of the mirror. The gown was entirely wrong for her. It swallowed her whole.She held a pair of sharp silver scissors. Without a second thought, she cut right into the skirt, slicing off the intricate diamond eagle—the ultimate symbol of the Falcone power."This gold embroidery is too heavy and old-fashioned," Fiora complained to the maid. "It needs to be shorter. Sexier."The maid was shaking. She shot a terrified glance at me in the doorway and didn't dare say a word.I didn't stop. I walked straight to the kitchen.Santino drank hard last night. He suffers from severe stomach problems. Every time after a hangover, he needs a bowl of specially made herbal tea to soothe his stomach.For seven years, I’ve personally brewed his herbal tea for him.I stood by the stove, watching the dark liquid boil in the pot.I

SANTINO'S POVI sat on the leather sofa, holding a glass of cold whiskey.I loosened my tie and stared fixedly at the antique wall clock.The hour hand pointed to eleven o’clock at night.It had been exactly three hours since I’d thrown Arabella out.Fiora walked over to me with a plate of sliced fruit, trying to lean into my arms.“Santino, Miss Arabella is far too stubborn. It’s snowing so heavily outside—she must be hiding somewhere, waiting for you to go get her.”I roughly pushed Fiora’s hand away.The fruit plate crashed to the floor, fruit rolling everywhere.I stood up and strode to the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing out at the white snow-covered night.In the past seven years, Arabella had never left me for more than a day.No matter how coldly I treated her after a fight, she would always bring hot soup to my study the next morning.I was certain she wouldn’t dare leave for real, certain she would be frozen senseless in the snow and kneel outside the gate, begging me to open it.

SANTINO'S POVAt eight o'clock sharp, the ballroom lights dimmed.A single spotlight hit the top of the grand marble staircase.Everyone fell silent. All eyes turned.And then I saw him.Matteo Moretti.The head of New York's Five Families, dressed in a custom-tailored black tuxedo, descending the stairs.And on his arm was a woman.My heart stopped.She wore a Schiaparelli couture gown. The deep blue silk shimmered under the light.On her head was a diamond tiara—the legendary "Star of Moretti," a priceless family heirloom.Her every move radiated a chilling elegance. The kind of grace that's born, not made. A true princess.But that face...It was Arabella's face.No, that wasn't right.This woman looked exactly like Arabella, but her entire presence was different.She was cold, confident. Her eyes held an innate nobility, as if she were born to be worshipped under a spotlight.This wasn't the Arabella I knew."Ladies and gentlemen," Matteo's voice boomed through the ballroom. "Tonig

ARABELLA'S POVTwo weeks later, our business in Chicago was finished.I sat at my desk, looking over the final report from my assistant."Miss, this is the update you requested on Fiora and Santino."I took the file and scanned it.Fiora had tried to steal Santino's last emergency funds and flee to Mexico. She was caught at the border by some of Santino's old enemies.They remembered her, parading around with the Falcone family ring.Her fate was worse than death.As for Santino... the man who craved absolute control had lost it completely. He was a slave to opioids, chasing a high to escape the migraines that now ruled his life.The report said he was barely coherent, lost in hallucinations most of the time.From the King of Chicago to a junkie on the street. It took less than a month."Get the car ready," I said, closing the file. "We're going to the airport.""Yes, Miss."I took one last look around the temporary office.Chicago. The city that had been my prison for seven years. I c