Sienna POV
Luca shot to his feet and began to pace the length of the room.
"You do not understand!" he snapped.
His temper flared instantly—the telltale sign of a weak man who detested being questioned.
"This is for the Family, Sienna! Do you think I want this? Do you think I want to leave my wife and my home?"
He raked a hand through his hair, disheveling the perfect style.
He was sweating more now, a sheen of perspiration glistening on his forehead.
"If I succeed in Sicily, I come back a Made Man," he said, his voice climbing in pitch, cracking with manic energy. "Maybe even a Capo. Think of the tribute, Sienna. Think of the power."
He was spinning a delusion.
He was painting a picture of a golden future to whitewash the rot of the present.
I watched him.
I saw the way his eyes darted to the closet, where I knew his go-bag was already packed and waiting.
I saw the way he couldn't meet my gaze for more than a second without flinching.
"A Capo," I repeated softly.
"Yes," he said, rushing back to the bed as if my agreement was the only permission he needed. "But first, we must protect the assets. The divorce is just a piece of paper. It means nothing to us. In the eyes of God, we are still one."
He reached for my face.
I forced myself not to flinch.
His touch used to make me feel safe.
Now, it felt like a stain on my skin.
"I swear on my honor," he said.
His honor was empty.
It was a hollow shell, rotting from the inside out, just like his promises.
"I will send money," he continued, the words tumbling out fast. "Tribute. Every month. And once the heat dies down, once the rivals are dealt with, I will come back. We will remarry in the biggest cathedral in New York."
He was lying about the money, too.
I knew it.
If I said no, he would leave anyway.
He would disappear into the night like a thief, leaving me with nothing but questions and shame.
If I said yes, I could control the narrative.
I could prepare for the war he didn't know was coming.
I looked at the man I thought I loved.
He was small.
He was selfish.
And he was underestimating me.
"Okay," I whispered.
Relief washed over his face so intensely it was almost insulting.
"You are the best wife," he said, pressing a damp kiss to my forehead. "The best. I will call the lawyer now. We need to move fast."
He jumped up, grabbing his phone.
He didn't look like a man going to war.
He looked like a man going on vacation.
"I will go pack your things," I said.
"No need," he said quickly, cutting me off. "I have a bag ready in the car. For emergencies."
Of course he did.
"I love you, Sienna," he called out as he walked toward the door.
He didn't wait for me to say it back.
He was already dialing a number, his voice dropping to a low, excited murmur.
I sat alone in the dark bedroom.
The silence of the house settled over me like a heavy shroud.
Down the hall, his parents were sleeping, believing their son was a hero.
They did not know he was a traitor.
But I knew.
And in our world, knowledge was the only weapon that mattered.
