The Underboss's Ruined Pride

It's been eight years.

Eight years since I fled that century-old crime family. I never thought I’d run into my ex-husband, Renato Colombo, at an art auction I was curating.

A few of his Capos did a double-take, their tone dripping with contempt. "So, this is what you've become after abandoning the Colombo family? A common gallery curator, groveling for buyers?"

I subconsciously touched my stomach. Eight years ago, six months pregnant with Nico, I was caught in a shootout with a rival family. As I lay wounded on the ground, he was shielding another woman—his so-called true love, Isabella Rossi. She was also pregnant but had only a scratch. Yet he refused to leave her side, abandoning me to face the cold barrel of a gun alone.

When I confronted him, heartbroken, he’d looked at me with pure annoyance. "Don't be so jealous, Scarlett. As long as you're obedient and know your place, you'll always be my wife—the future Donna of the Colombo family."

I couldn't bear the despair, so I ran. And I stayed away for eight whole years.

Now, those sharp, possessive eyes were locked on me again. "Are you done with this tantrum? If so, come home. A Colombo woman has no business making a spectacle of herself out here."

What he didn't know was that at home, dinner was on the table. My husband and our daughter were waiting for Nico and me.

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1

"Where have you been hiding? Do you have any idea how long I've been looking for you?" Renato Colombo blocked my path, a low snarl simmering in his throat.

His eyes burned with a possessive fire as I glanced nervously at my son, Nico Bellini, who was admiring a painting nearby.

A few of Renato's Capos closed in, jabbing their fingers in my direction.

"You cold, heartless bitch! How could you just disappear?"

"Do you have any idea what he's been through? He's been half-crazy looking for you!"

I had fled in chaos while pregnant. It seemed Renato had never given up searching for his "private property." His men were now closing ranks, defending their boss.

"We thought you'd be living the high life after leaving. Who knew you'd end up a nobody, hawking paintings for a living?"

"That's right. If Renato hadn't protected you, you'd be nothing! This is what you get for betraying the family!"

Renato frowned, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes as their words hit home. He raked his gaze over my modest blazer and slacks, his expression shifting.

"Scarlett, how have you really been these past eight years?"

I clutched the curator's badge on my chest as bitterness churned inside me. To evade the Colombo family's reach, I’d spent the first two years in the coldest, dampest basements. I’d eaten discarded food. I had given birth to Nico alone in a sterile, indifferent hospital room, with no one by my side.

Thankfully, that was all in the past.

My silence was met with contemptuous snorts from his men.

"See how merciful he's being?"

"Why don't you get on your knees and kiss his ring? Beg for forgiveness. Maybe if he's in a good mood, he'll let you back into the family."

They snickered, their leering eyes raking over my body.

Renato remained silent, making no move to stop them. He was savoring his control.

Nico noticed the commotion and thought I was being bullied. He immediately clenched his small fists and rushed over, glaring at the men. "Don't you dare touch my mom! Get away from her!"

Fearing he would get too worked up, I quickly pulled him into my arms. "Nico, it's okay. Mommy's just talking to some... old acquaintances."

Nico had inherited Renato's defiant jawline, and the recognition hit Renato like a physical blow. He saw a spitting image of himself.

He was stunned for a moment, then his gaze turned fiery. "It's Nico, isn't it? I'm your papa. Come here. Let me get a good look at you."

Renato gently reached for Nico, but my son slapped his hand away and shouted, "You're not my papa! My papa is the Don of the De Luca family! He protects Mom and me! You're just a bad man!"

Lorenzo De Luca, the uncrowned king of Aethelburg's underworld.

Even old-school Mafia families showed him deference. If the Colombos were a pack of wolves carving out territory, the De Lucas were a dragon surveying the world from on high.

Renato's face instantly darkened.

"Is this how you raise my son? Teaching him to acknowledge another man as his father and shame the Colombo name?"

Renato was convinced I had orchestrated this, taught our son to pledge allegiance to another man—a direct challenge to his honor.

He couldn't know that Nico was mercilessly teased at school for being "fatherless," that he'd been diagnosed with social anxiety. If it hadn't been for Lorenzo's patient guidance, Nico would have shattered long ago.

Sure enough, as Nico grew agitated, tears welled in his eyes.

"I'm not lying! I'm not a liar! You're the liar! You're the..."

Renato lost his patience. He snatched Nico from my arms and glared down at him. "Is this how your mother raised you? To disrespect your own father? The first rule of the Colombo family is to know your place!"

"What are you doing?! You're scaring him!"

I lunged for Nico, but Renato shoved me hard, sending me stumbling back against the wall.

"Look at him! Selfish and spouting lies! Nothing like a Colombo! This is all your doing! It's time someone taught you some respect!"

Nico’s cheeks puffed out in defiance, and he bit down hard on Renato's hand. In a blind rage, Renato slapped our son across the face.