Wife of a Don, Queen of Myself
On our tenth year anniversary, I'm making out with my husband, Don Raimondo Brocchi, in his office.
Just as I'm about to secretly slip the pregnancy report into his hand as a surprise, his secretary, Anna Altamura, walks into the office.
We're forced to stop our makeout session. Meanwhile, Anna shoots me a provocative look before she begins chatting with Raimondo in fluent Italese.
"Don Brocchi, who do you like more in bed? Me or the Donna?"
Raimondo lets out a soft chuckle. The vibrations of his voice makes my back crawl with numbness.
"You, of course. After all, you're younger and tighter, amore. Meanwhile, Cassia is already 30 years old."
Haughtily, Anna picks up a document before returning to her seat.
What they don't know is that my Nonno hails from Sicaria. That means I understand each and every Italese word they just said.
After forcing myself to calm down, I locate the invitation mailed from Anworth Institute that comes with a permanent position in my inbox. Then, I key in a short response to the person in charge.
I agree to travel to the institution.
Before my trip, I will make sure to terminate everything that belongs to me.