Bianca's POV
It was our ninth wedding anniversary, but Don Dominic Valente came home with his pregnant mistress.
For nine years, he had held me like I was the moon itself. He'd bring me white roses from the garden, kiss my hand in front of the whole family, and swear I'd always be his only one. And now? He stood proudly beside another woman, parading her swollen belly like a trophy.
"She's sensitive to strong smells," he said casually, one arm draped possessively around the other woman's waist as she nestled smugly into his side. "No repeated meals. She needs someone with her when she sleeps. Move your things to the guest house."
My body stiffened in shock. "Are you freaking kidding me, Dominic? You seriously expect me to move into the guest house like some castoff because of your mistress?"
His eyes narrowed. "I wasn't asking, Bianca. Now do it."
"No." My teeth ground together as I pointed a trembling finger straight at Serafina. "You have impregnated an opportunistic nobody from a disgraced family, and now you brought her to our anniversary dinner? The audacity, Dominic. No way!"
"I said do it, Bianca!"
His voice dropped into that register, the one that made soldiers go pale and lower their eyes. The full weight of the Don's authority pressed against my lungs like thick smoke, and I felt my knees buckle slightly. Every survival instinct I had recoiled, whimpering at his dominance.
But I couldn't and wouldn't stoop low for someone who wrecked my marriage, so I said, "I'd rather leave. I'm so done. Goodbye, Dominic."
He thought I would serve his mistress? Never. And since I had packed my things weeks ago after I received a video of him and this woman in bed together, I was already ready to go.
Dominic scoffed and prowled toward me. He jabbed a finger at me, then made a sweeping motion like he was shooing away garbage. "You want to leave? Fine. Go ahead and throw your little tantrum. You'll come crawling back in three days, begging like the pathetic has-been you've become."
Laughter echoed behind me from the old guard, the capos and associates seated along the dining table. They were placing bets, laughing at the woman they had once stood for when she entered a room as the Donna.
Too bad for them, I wasn't about to stick around and play the humiliated wife one more time. The car my cousin Marco had sent from Ferrante territory up north was already parked beyond the estate gates.
Dominic said I would go back crawling on my ass? Well, I didn't even look back when I stepped through the front door after I retrieved my bags from our room.
But before I stepped out of the doors, he shouted, "Leave the signet ring and give it to Serafina!"
My breath hitched.
I curled my fingers tightly around the ring my late grandmother had given me. This ring had been the only thing keeping me steady through the chaos of his betrayal. And now he wanted me to give it away? To hand over the one thing making me physically immune to the pain of his cheating?
"No," I said, as rich beads of tears fell from my eyes. "Not this. Anything but this!"
Dominic snorted at my reaction, pulling Serafina closer to him. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be, Bianca. She needs it."
I could have fought harder. I could have screamed, refused, or lashed out. But my body was already trembling, every ounce of fight curled up tight inside me. And his authority was forcing me to submit. The Don's word was law in this house, and every man in that room would enforce it. Curse his authority.
So I turned slowly and walked over to Serafina.
I slid the ring from my finger and placed it on hers.
"May your child be born in peace," I murmured.
But when the old silver band settled around her finger, a thin red line bloomed across her pale skin where the metal touched. She gasped sharply, clutching her hand like I'd branded her. "W-What did you do to me, Donna? Did you hurt me on purpose with that ring?" she cried, collapsing to her knees.
"What? No!" I countered, wide eyes on her hand.
Dominic reacted instantly. His body stiffened, and then he lunged toward her, knocking the chair aside as he swept her into his arms. He held her like she was made of glass. Then he glared at me as if I'd morphed into a beast before his very eyes. "What on earth did you do to her? Are you so jealous that she is pregnant with my child? Did you curse Serafina?"
"I had no idea what happened, Dominic." My hands remained suspended midair, still trembling from placing the ring.
"Call the doctor! Now!" he roared, glancing around, then glared back at me. "You, clean this up. Every last piece. Understood!"
My gaze dropped to the ring, which had cracked apart on the marble floor as though the metal itself had rejected her. Shards pierced through the skin as I knelt, but I welcomed the pain.
"I'm sorry," I said. Once. Then again. And again.
My knees screamed as I shifted my weight forward. My palms, slick with blood from the broken shards, pressed against the cold marble floor to push me up. Gathering what was left of my dignity, I brushed the blood-stained strands of hair away from my face, and locked eyes with him. "Is that enough, Don Valente?"
His eyes didn't soften. Not even a flicker. "The old man who protected you is gone. Who are you pretending for now?"
I stared at the man I once called my husband. "Why don't you just end this, Dominic? If you hate the sight of me so much, file the dissolution. Let me go."
He let out a low laugh, amused and condescending. "Why would I do that, Bianca? You'll just come crawling back. And besides, dissolutions are messy, so why go through the effort?"
I gathered the broken ring pieces and tossed them in the trash. After rinsing the blood from my hands, I grabbed my bag and walked out without looking back.
