Julian was gone not long after he arrived.
I showered, washing away his lingering scent, and lay down on the cold bed. The doctor had ordered bed rest.
Just as I was drifting off, he called.
Over the phone, I could hear the distinctive roar of his vintage sports car—the one I'd bought him.
"Sorry, Alessia. Things are a bit tricky, so I won't be back tonight. Don't wait up for me, get some sleep."
"I know I've been neglecting you. I'll make it up to you, I swear. We're husband and wife, sworn to the family," he added.
He hung up before I could respond.
I was wide awake.
Julian had used the same excuses countless times—trouble with a territory, a problem with the cops, a provocation from a rival.
A bitter laugh escaped me.
"Husband and wife," I muttered to the dead screen. "You have no right to use those words. I've paid the price for that title enough."
Oaths only matter when they're made. After that, there's only betrayal.
The next morning, I woke to an empty bed and felt a wave of relief. He hadn't come home. Just as I expected.
I was about to get something to eat when a Capo called.
"Alessia, your husband's got some nerve! The bastard has the gall to skip the meeting about the docks!"
"It's fine," I said with a thin smile, and hung up.
The family was just his personal piggy bank. As long as the money flowed, he couldn't care less about his responsibilities.
I was about to call Julian when a new intelligence file from Silas appeared.
It was an intercepted text: "He took a bullet for me. I always knew I was the one you loved most."
In the attached photo, under the dim, suggestive lighting of a speakeasy, Julian's eyes held a glow I had never seen directed at me.
I called him.
"What is it?" His voice was hoarse from a night of indulgence.
Just as I was about to speak, I heard a woman's seductive moan from his end of the line.
"Julian, don't..."
Blood rushed to my head, my stomach churning with a wave of nausea. I thought I was going to be sick.
The words died in my throat. I ended the call and slowly sank into a chair at the dining table, my body still trembling.
Julian and I had been married for years, and I could count the times we'd been intimate on one hand.
He'd always claimed his years on the street had left him cold, that he had no appetite for sex.
It turned out he just didn't want me. With Scarlett, he was a different man entirely.
After a long while, I calmed myself and began to frantically sift through all the materials Silas had sent.
I saved and cataloged every photo, every video of him with her.
I transferred all the evidence—of him spending lavishly on her, taking a bullet for her, buying a mansion for her—into Silas's archive.
So you love her that much. Fine. I'll make sure she becomes the next Mrs. Cain, then.
