The Don’s Other Woman Was His Real Wife
His gun-roughened hands burned against my waist, every breath laced with the cold, unyielding possession that had made him the most feared Cosa Nostra Don in all of Sicily.
A shrill ring sliced through the haze.
He answered in guttural Sicilian.
It was the dialect I’d learned years ago to fit into his world, so I caught every word.
His consigliere was screaming down the line at him for filing a valid, legally binding marriage license with Sofia Lombardi, the woman who’d abandoned him when a bomb left him mute for seven years.
Luca’s order was cold as a trigger pull.
“Secure the original license in the family vault. Draw up a forged, null-and-void marriage license for Isa to keep her compliant.”
In the eyes of the law, of his entire crew, I was nothing but his mistress.
After seven years of laying down my life for him, I’d been reduced to nothing but his mistress.
Another call flashed.
Luca turned to me, the lie already shaping his mouth.
“Family matters. The guards will see you home.”
Without a word, I stepped out into the Palermo night, my hands shaking as I dialed his mother, Anna Vitali.
“I’ll take your fifty million euros. I’ll leave Luca. For good.”
Anna once said Luca and I were worlds apart.
I had to admit she was right.
This time, I want to leave with dignity.