Back home after the dinner party, Vincent saw I wasn't looking well and personally cooked me a steak.
But I didn't take a single bite.
Everything that had happened lingered in my mind like an endless nightmare.
Watching Vincent's back as he busied himself in the kitchen, I really wanted to rush up and demand an answer: How exactly do you split a heart in two?
On one hand, risking his life to protect me during a shootout; on the other hand, giving all his indulgence and favoritism to Chloe.
But the words reached the tip of my tongue, and I swallowed them back down.
I became increasingly silent.
Vincent noticed my unusual demeanor. He wiped his hands and walked over. "Baby, what's wrong? Is the steak not to your liking?"
Just as I was about to speak, his encrypted burner phone vibrated.
He glanced at the screen and hung up without hesitation.
But the caller was relentless and immediately dialed again.
Leaning against the counter, my tone was completely flat. "Answer it. What if it's an emergency with the Family?"
Vincent finally walked out to the balcony to pick it up.
A few minutes later, he came back, his face full of apology. "Mia, I'm sorry. There's been a hiccup with the smuggling route at the Brooklyn pier. I have to go handle it personally."
I nodded, not stopping him.
Once the roar of his sports car faded away, I picked up my phone.
A message popped up from an informant I had planted:
[The Don didn't go to the pier. His car is parked at a high-rise apartment in Manhattan.]
I let out a self-deprecating laugh, grabbed my keys, and drove my Porsche, following the GPS tracker I'd planted on his car.
The car weaved through downtown and finally stopped beneath a highly discreet luxury apartment building in Manhattan.
I rolled down my window and instantly spotted Chloe in the garage.
She hadn't even changed out of her evening gown and was currently leaning into Vincent's embrace, acting all coy.
Vincent killed the engine, pulled her into his arms, and the two began kissing passionately, unable to wait.
They completely failed to notice that I was sitting in the shadows barely thirty feet away, quietly watching it all unfold.
My heart ached as if it had been pierced by a bullet.
I wanted to cry, but my throat felt sealed with concrete. All I could let out was a faint, cold sneer.
I had overestimated myself.
I thought I had already accepted the fact that he was cheating, but seeing him satisfy his urges on another woman with my own eyes still made me utterly sick to my stomach.
Why?
He clearly told me back then: "My father was a piece of shit who cheated and abandoned his wife and child. I will never be the kind of trash who can't keep it in his pants."
When he saw other mob bosses fooling around, he explicitly cursed them as animals in heat.
And now?
The sound of clothing rubbing together echoed in the garage.
Chloe panted and whined, "Daddy, you ignored me all day, just focusing on keeping up appearances for that boring wife of yours."
Vincent's voice was low and husky, "Be good, I'll feed you right now."
Pushing her luck, Chloe asked, "Say, if Mia knew we were doing this in her favorite garage right now... how mad do you think she'd be?"
Vincent's movements paused, and his voice instantly filled with a violent warning: "I'm warning you to know your place, or don't blame me for getting nasty."
