Luca’s POV
“Davenport!” I called for the butler since the manor was eerily quiet.
No footsteps. No chatter from the staff. I came to find Amara since the family’s businesses had been having issues and I expected her to handle them, it was her job, while I was attending to Casey and my child in her womb, who both luckily survived and were doing well now in the hospital. And yet, this was what I came home to, an empty house.
The butler appeared a moment later, but something was off.
“Where is Amara?” I demanded, shrugging off my coat and tossing it onto the nearest chair.
“The Donna hasn’t been home for several days,” he replied, and I could see the hesitation and wandering of his eyes like he knew something but didn’t know how to say it.
I took a step closer, my jaw tightening. “What the hell do you mean she hasn’t been home? I’ve been tied up at the hospital, dealing with…” I stopped myself, biting back the words. “And nobody thought to inform me? The family businesses are having issues and no one has been attending them, where the hell is she, Davenport?!”
Davenport’s gaze lowered to the floor, “I was under the impression the Donna’s whereabouts were not my concern.”
“Don’t play coy with me, Davenport. Where is she?”
He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out an envelope. “She left this for you, sir.”
I snatched it from his hand, ripping it open before he could say another word, and after scanning the contents, my stomach flipped and the veins in my temple throbbed in fury. Divorce papers.
For a second, I just stared at them, the words blurring as my mind tried to process what I was seeing. Divorce. She wanted out.
A bitter laugh escaped me. Of course, she did. After everything, this was her way of getting back at me—making a statement, reminding me that she wouldn’t bend or break.
But this? This was more than defiance. This was war.
I tossed the papers onto the coffee table, shaking my head. “She actually thinks she can walk away,” I muttered, mostly to myself, believing that she would come back, that this was only her way to manipulate me into believing her lies and pity her.
“Shall I inform the staff to prepare for her return?” Davenport asked, his tone as dry as ever.
“Did she say she’s coming back?” I snapped, the words leaving a sour taste in my mouth.
He silenced and quietly disappeared as I tossed the divorce papers on the table.
I was torn between disbelief and anger. Amara was stubborn, but this? This was beyond anything I had expected.
I’d underestimated her. That much was clear.
The TV droned on in the background, the noise filling the void, but I wasn’t paying attention until a familiar name pulled me out of my thoughts.
“Matteo Vitale…” the head of the Vitalus Circle, a mafia rival of ours.
I turned to face the screen, narrowing my eyes as the news anchor continued.
“Matteo Vitale has announced his engagement to Amara Saints, a private businesswoman and philanthropist…”
The words slammed into me, each one a knife to the chest.
The screen showed a video of them together—Amara in a sleek black dress, her hand resting on Matteo’s arm like it belonged there. She smiled faintly at the reporters and her head tilted slightly as Matteo spoke to the press.
My vision blurred with rage.
“She didn’t,” I muttered, my fists clenching at my sides.
But she had.
The headline scrolled across the screen like a taunt: “Matteo Vitale Finally Finds His Match: The Mysterious Amara Saints.”
My teeth gritted, jaw tightened until it ached.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the screen, every second of the clip was igniting something darker inside me. She looked at ease, confident with a smile, like this was her new reality. Like I didn’t exist.
I grabbed the remote and threw it to the TV, the monitor shattered and off. But the images in my head, of Amara and Matteo… how dare she?!
She’d humiliated me. Not just in private but in front of the entire world. And the mafia circles—god, they’d already be talking. And for her to marry our notorious rival in the mafia, what would others say then?
This wasn’t good. She was ruining my reputation.
I shook my head and paced around. “I want her back, I need her with me. She can’t be with that damn Matteo Vitale. He can’t have her.”
My thoughts halted when my phone buzzed. I yanked it out, expecting a message from our advisors who might have heard about this news already.
But I was shocked to see Amara's name.
A digital wedding invitation stared back at me after I clicked the notification open.
“My dearest ex-husband, consider this your invitation to watch me marry a real man.”
