His Heart Begged, His Hands Destroyed

At another Sunday dinner at the Bellandi estate, Luca Bellandi's assistant, Ava Marino, was sitting in my seat.

It was the first chair to Luca's right at the long walnut table, the seat everyone in Chicago's underworld knew belonged to Mrs. Bellandi. Ava sat there as if she had been born into it, her pale wrist brushing Luca's sleeve while she poured his wine.

I stood in the doorway and looked at him. "She's in my seat. You don't have anything to say?"

Luca raised his eyes. "You were late. Don't blame someone else for sitting down first. There are empty chairs over there. Sit if you want. If not, get out."

The dining room went dead quiet, and before I could answer, his thoughts slipped into my ears.

[Vivi, don't go. Come sit beside me. Tell them it's your seat. Tell me you still want to be my wife.]

[Please get mad. Please care. Say you need me, and I'll give you the whole world.]

In the past, those soft, trembling thoughts would have been enough. I would've swallowed the insult and stayed beside him like a loyal dog that didn't know when to leave.

This time, I didn't. I slipped the wedding ring off my finger and laid it on the table.

"If the Bellandi family can't even keep a wife's seat for me, then I guess this family doesn't need a wife anymore. Luca, let's get divorced."

At another Sunday dinner at the Bellandi estate, Luca Bellandi's assistant, Ava Marino, was sitting in my seat.

It was the first chair to Luca's right at the long walnut table, the seat everyone in Chicago's underworld knew belonged to Mrs. Bellandi. Ava sat there as if she had been born into it, her pale wrist brushing Luca's sleeve while she poured his wine.

I stood in the doorway and looked at him. "She's in my seat. You don't have anything to say?"

Luca raised his eyes. "You were late. Don't blame someone else for sitting down first. There are empty chairs over there. Sit if you want. If not, get out."

The dining room went dead quiet, and before I could answer, his thoughts slipped into my ears.

[Vivi, don't go. Come sit beside me. Tell them it's your seat. Tell me you still want to be my wife.]

[Please get mad. Please care. Say you need me, and I'll give you the whole world.]

In the past, those soft, trembling thoughts would have been enough. I would've swallowed the insult and stayed beside him like a loyal dog that didn't know when to leave.

This time, I didn't. I slipped the wedding ring off my finger and laid it on the table.

"If the Bellandi family can't even keep a wife's seat for me, then I guess this family doesn't need a wife anymore. Luca, let's get divorced."

...

Luca's face went white. Old Mr. Bellandi set down his cigar, Mrs. Bellandi froze, and even Ava raised a brow as if I had just told a bad joke.

Six years. I had been Luca Bellandi's wife for six years, and everyone knew I was the only one who could calm the ruthless, sharp-tongued Don of Chicago. When he mocked me in public, I heard him think, [Vivi, I don't mean it. I'm just scared you'll ignore me.] When he told me to leave, I heard, [Don't go. I need you.] When he slammed doors, I heard my name behind them, soft and helpless.

So I softened. Again and again, I turned back. After a while, the Bellandis got used to it. Mrs. Bellandi even laughed once and said, "A difficult man needs a wife who can't be chased away."

They forgot that even a woman who couldn't be chased away could get tired.

"Vivian." Mrs. Bellandi came over and took my hand, her voice careful. "Are you in a bad mood? You know Luca. He has a hard mouth and a soft heart."

Old Mr. Bellandi frowned. "This is a family dinner. The Capos are here. Divorce isn't something you throw around because you're upset. Put the ring back on."

I laughed under my breath. "So you do know this is a family dinner." I looked at Ava. "Then when did she become family?"

Ava stood in a black satin dress with the Bellandi silver rose pinned to her neckline. That pin belonged to blood relatives, core members, and the Don's wife.

"Vivian, I only came because Luca needed me to explain the South Harbor ledgers," she said. "I didn't know the chair mattered that much."

Luca shot to his feet, his chair scraping the floor. "Enough. How long are you going to embarrass yourself? You want a divorce? Fine. Get out. The Bellandi family doesn't need a woman who only knows how to make trouble."

His words cut like a blade, but his thoughts slammed into my chest with a different kind of pain.

[No. Vivi, don't say divorce. You promised you'd stay with me. You're only trying to scare me, right? If I get angry, you'll come hug me like before.]

I had lived with that split for ten years. When I met Luca, he had just survived seven days in a rival family’s basement. After he came back, Luca stopped believing anyone would stay for him.

He couldn’t say what he felt, couldn’t let people touch him, and used cruel words to push away anyone who came close. Everyone feared him. I was the only one who could hear him.

When he said, "Stay away," I heard, [Please don't be scared of me.] When he threw away the cake I baked, I heard, [I want it. I just don't know how to say thank you.] I pitied him and thought that made me special.

Four years knowing him, six years married to him. I watched him become Chicago's youngest and coldest Don. He learned to smile at enemies and treat outsiders with patience, but with me, he stayed cruel.

I used to bear it because I could hear his heart. Then Ava came.

Ava Marino was the younger sister of his dead underboss, pretty, clever, and good with the Bellandi harbor books. Luca personally brought her into the South Harbor office. He never spent my birthday with me, yet he booked a rooftop restaurant for Ava's. I had liked an emerald brooch for half a year; he bought it at auction and pinned it on her gown. When I had a fever, he sent medicine through a driver. When Ava said her wrist hurt, he drove across half the city himself.

Every time, his thoughts still said he loved me. [Vivi, get jealous. Tell me you don't like me being with her. Say one word, and I'll stop seeing her.] But he never once left Ava on his own.

Tenderness trapped inside a man's head wasn't tenderness. Love that never became action wasn't love.

I looked at Luca's pale lips and nodded. "Fine. I'll get out."