I shook my head and smiled faintly.
"I'm fine. You should go."
He seemed relieved. That relief was more painful than any argument could have been.
He leaned down and kissed my cheek gently.
"Once I finish dealing with this, I promise I won't contact her alone again," he said. "I'll make more time for you and the baby."
The baby.
I almost laughed. But I didn't. I only watched him leave, watched the taillights flare red through the rain and swing past the open gate where the night guard didn't even bother to check. The Underboss came and went as he pleased. Everyone moved for him. Everyone except the woman who bore his name.
As soon the gate closed behind him, my phone buzzed. Then again. And again.
Messages from Vincent and a few of Mira's crew appeared one after another.
[Sister-in-law, something happened to Adriana. Can you ask Mira to go over?]
[Sister-in-law, Adriana's kid is crying for Mira. Help us out.]
[Sister-in-law, don't be angry. This is urgent.]
I stared at the messages, feeling nothing.
They had never respected me as Mira's wife. But whenever they needed me to make things easier for Adriana, suddenly I became "sister-in-law." How convenient.
I ignored every message.
Then I opened my chat with my supervisor and began discussing the Marseille transfer in detail. Work location. Transfer timeline. Documents needed. Possible start date.
For the first time in a long while, I felt the fog in front of me begin to clear.
Later that night, I opened one of the private social feeds that circulated through Family-adjacent circles.
Adriana had posted a new update.
The two most important men in my life.
Attached was a photo. In it, Mira and Nico were sleeping side by side. The child was curled against him, two small fingers hooked into the fabric of Mira's shirt, gripping tight, refusing to let go even in sleep.
Mira's face was peaceful. Soft. At ease. Like he had finally returned to where he truly belonged.
I stared at the photo for a long time.
Then I quietly turned off my phone.
Some truths didn't need to be questioned anymore. They only needed to be accepted.
Mira's so-called venture into running his own front went more smoothly than I had expected.
Not long after the operation was set up, he secured his first arrangement.
That day, he was almost glowing with excitement. The moment he came home, he pulled me into his arms and told me he wanted me to attend the celebration dinner with him.
"Bianca," he said, his voice unusually sincere, "from now on, I'll be there for you and the baby."
He held my hand tightly, as if afraid I would pull away.
"If you ever feel that something is wrong, just tell me. I'll change. I'll make it right."
His words sounded so earnest.
So familiar.
Once, I would have believed him without hesitation.
Now, I only listened quietly.
Some promises were like cheap glass. They looked clear and beautiful under the light, but the moment you touched them, they cut your hand.
Still, I went with him.
When we arrived at the restaurant, Mira seemed to be in a good mood. He led me inside, his hand resting lightly on my back, acting every bit like a considerate husband. The kind of man the Family expected him to be in public. The kind of man who kept his wife close enough that no one at a neighboring table would think twice.
But the moment the waitress saw us, her smile froze.
It was only for a second, but I caught it.
She looked at Mira, then at me.
Her expression became strange.
As she guided us toward the private room, she leaned slightly closer and whispered in a voice just loud enough for me to hear.
"Why did you change partners?"
My steps stopped.
The words fell into the air like a stone sinking into deep water.
Change partners?
So he had been here before.
With someone else.
No.
Not someone else.
Adriana.
A chill spread through my chest, slow and heavy.
Before I could react, my phone vibrated.
