The Secret Mafia Wife Vanishes のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 1 - チャプター 10

The heavy wooden door to the study swung open.Donatello walked in, carrying the cold scent of cigars and the weight of the city on his shoulders. His deep-set eyes swept over me, his tone as businesslike as ever. “What is it?”I steadied my breath and slid a single document from a thick stack of shipping reports.“There’s a problem with the cargo at Pier 5. The other party needs your signature on the authorization, fast.” I pushed the paper in front of him. “Just sign. I’ll handle the rest.”It was the divorce agreement, disguised as a bill of lading.I’d already laid out the division of assets. All he had to do was sign, and in a month, I’d be free.Donatello didn’t reach for the pen.For a man who clawed his way to the top through blood and bullets, caution was etched into his very bones.He instinctively started to flip to the previous page to check the terms.My blood went cold.If he turned that page, he’d see the words “Divorce Agreement” in bold letters.“Donatello?”A timid, s

Night fell. A core meeting of the Vexille family had just ended.I followed Donatello out of the conference room, my arms full of files.“Boss,” Carlo, one of his capos, hurried over. “About the Sotheby’s charity auction tonight. Who’s accompanying you? We need to arrange the cars and security detail.”The air in the hallway went still.I stopped, my eyes fixed on Donatello’s back.In three years of marriage, he had never taken me to a single public event. Within the Family, I was only ever the cold, impartial lawyer who handled their legal messes.Now Angelina was divorced. Free. Would he take her?I took a deep breath, a pathetic flicker of hope still alive in my chest.“The auction tonight…” I stepped forward, meeting his profile, my voice low enough for only him to hear. “Are you taking me?”I was testing him. Testing if he was finally ready to acknowledge me as his wife.Donatello turned. His eyes met mine, and the silence that followed was my answer.I swallowed the coppery taste

The day after I got home from the hospital, Donatello found me in the study.“Let me take you on a vacation,” he said. “A cruise. The Mediterranean. We can… make up for the honeymoon we never had.”I knew this was just an apology for not picking me up. I was already used to his broken promises, so it didn't hurt anymore.But a honeymoon…My fingers tightened on my pen.Because our marriage was a secret, we never had a wedding. He’d said we would do the honeymoon “later.” For three years, “later” never came.A month ago, his words might have made me cry with happiness.But now, I just looked at him quietly for a long time.“Okay,” I heard myself say.This was the last time, anyway. A final, decent end to a marriage that was anything but.On the day we left, the yacht was waiting at a private marina.As I stepped onto the deck with my suitcase, the first person I saw was Angelina.She was wearing a white linen dress, her hair blowing in the sea breeze, laughing about something with her b

I walked into the restaurant alone.It looked almost exactly the same as it did ten years ago. The dim chandeliers, the checkered tablecloths, the old jukebox in the corner playing the same jazz record on a loop.I ordered a glass of water and sat at a table by the window.This was the spot. Ten years ago, he’d saved me from humiliation. I’d watched his tall figure walk away and thought it was fate.I learned later it was just the start of a curse.I stayed for an hour, taking videos of the corners where I used to watch him from, capturing the last ghosts of my love for him.Then I got up, paid the bill, and went home.Back at the estate, the news was already reporting that Angelina’s ex-husband had escaped from custody. So that’s what Donatello had to handle. I wasn’t surprised.I called my bank manager. “Is the asset transfer complete?”“Yes, Miss Merouin. It’s all been deposited.”I hadn’t taken a single piece of Vexille property or a single share of stock. The only thing I took was

(Avril's POV)I stood in front of the airport departure board for three minutes, clutching the fake ID I'd prepared.The next international flight that hadn't left yet—New Orleans.Alright. That's the one.I handed my passport to the woman at the counter and got a one-way ticket in return.The air in New Orleans was humid and sweet.The French Quarter's stone streets smelled of powdered sugar from beignets, and the lazy sound of a saxophone drifted from a corner bar.I changed into a loose cotton dress and a straw hat and took a slow walk down Bourbon Street.For lunch, I found a small, old-fashioned spot and ordered a whole bowl of gumbo and crawfish with a glass of iced lemonade.The spice made my eyes water, but suddenly, I was smiling.It had been so long since I’d just sat down and quietly finished a meal by myself.No more waiting for him, no more fielding his calls, no more looking up the second his brow furrowed to ask, "What's wrong?"So this is what life was like after divorc