But even the most devoted husband can be tempted to betray his wife.
The moment he heard the front door open, Domenico casually wiped his hands on the apron tied around his waist. Then he strode over and pressed a familiar kiss to my forehead.
The scent of his body wash reached me first.
Warm.
Comforting.
Familiar.
But beneath it lingered something else.
A faint floral fragrance.
Light and delicate.
And unmistakably not mine.
My heart sank a little lower.
The warmth in my eyes disappeared.
"Why are you home so late, sweetheart?" he asked softly. "Didn't the driver pick you up? It's freezing outside. You shouldn't be wandering around in this weather. You'll catch a cold and end up with another headache."
Before I could respond, he was already crouching in front of me.
His fingers worked quickly, slipping off my shoes and replacing them with a pair of soft slippers.
The moment his hands touched my feet, he frowned.
They were ice cold.
Instinctively, he wrapped both hands around them, rubbing gently to warm them up.
The Don of the Moretti Family.
A man whose name alone could silence an entire room.
A man feared across the Eastern Seaboard.
Yet here he was, kneeling on the marble floor of our foyer, carefully warming his wife's frozen feet.
Once upon a time, moments like this would have made my heart flutter.
I would have felt cherished.
Loved.
Protected.
But now?
Nothing.
"Just took a walk around the neighborhood," I replied calmly. "It wasn't far. I wasn't cold."
The guards at the perimeter had seen me leave and return.
None of them had dared stop me.
They answered to Domenico.
But they also knew better than to question the Donna of the house.
Only after he was satisfied that my feet had warmed up did he slide the slippers on properly and stand.
Then a mischievous smile spread across his face.
"Guess what I bought for you this month," he whispered, eyes gleaming like a child with a secret.
I didn't even blink.
"A high-heel brand."
His grin immediately widened.
Of course I knew.
Domenico had never been the kind of man who bought gifts.
He bought entire companies.
Over the years, his so-called surprises had accumulated until I unknowingly owned shares in over a hundred businesses connected to the Family's legitimate operations.
All it took was a passing comment.
A lingering glance at an advertisement.
A product I paused to admire for two seconds too long.
The next day, acquisition contracts would arrive on my desk, routed through the consigliere's office and already signed.
Last month, it had been a jewelry company.
This month, high heels.
He laughed, thoroughly amused, and flicked my nose affectionately.
"Wow. My wife is getting way too smart."
"I guess I'll have to work harder if I want future surprises to actually surprise you."
I brushed my nose absentmindedly, trying to erase the lingering sensation of his touch.
"You've given me plenty of surprises over the years," I said quietly.
"Maybe it's my turn now."
"Domenico, we've known each other for twenty years already."
"Funny. It feels like yesterday."
"I have something for you too."
"You'll receive it in three days."
"Don't forget to check."
The excitement that lit up his face was almost unbearable to look at.
He immediately wrapped me in his arms.
"Oh? My wife is buying me gifts now?" he teased dramatically.
"You keep this up and you're seriously gonna make me cry."
His laughter echoed softly in my ear.
"We still have decades ahead of us, sweetheart."
"I'm going to record every memory we make together."
"One day I'll tell our children all about them."
"Maybe I'll even carve every single one onto my headstone."
I remained silent.
His voice was as gentle as ever.
But somehow, it sounded distant.
As though it were coming from another lifetime.
Domenico.
There won't be another decade.
There won't even be another year.
That evening, after dinner, he placed the acquisition documents for the high-heel company in front of me and asked me to sign them.
As always, the paperwork was immaculate.
Filtered through multiple holding companies until every trace of its true origin had disappeared.
"Babe, I've already spoken with the designers," he said eagerly.
"They released several limited-edition pieces this season."
"I reserved every pair in your size."
"Tomorrow I'll take you to see them."
"They're exactly your style."
His eyes sparkled with anticipation.
Like he genuinely couldn't wait to see my reaction.
Without looking up, I signed the documents.
"Okay."
"Thank you."
At that moment, he was distracted by something on his phone.
Too distracted to notice the way my expression subtly hardened.
My fingers drifted to my wedding ring.
The heavy Sicilian gold felt colder than usual.
Slowly, I turned it a quarter turn around my finger.
"Heels look beautiful, but they're terrible to walk in," he said absentmindedly while scrolling through his screen.
"From now on, let the driver take you wherever you need to go."
"Or if I'm home, I'll drive you myself."
"Domenico, you really don't have to do all this for me—"
Before I could finish, he interrupted.
"Serafina."
His voice was firm.
Certain.
"You are my entire world."
"I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy."
Then a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"And honestly?"
"With a wife as incredible as mine, if I don't spoil you enough, what if somebody steals you away?"
As he said it, his eyes locked onto mine.
The intensity in his gaze nearly made me look away.
The silver strands woven through his dark hair caught the light overhead.
A permanent reminder of what he'd sacrificed for me.
*Il Grigio.*
The Gray One.
The soldiers whispered that nickname behind his back.
They believed the Family's burdens had turned his hair silver.
None of them knew the truth.
None of them knew those gray strands existed because of me.
But none of it mattered anymore.
Not the gifts.
Not the devotion.
Not the sacrifices.
Not the memories.
Because the one thing I needed from him...
Was the one thing he could no longer give me.
His love was already gone.
There was no need for another woman to steal me away.
I was leaving on my own.
After holding my gaze for a few seconds, he lowered his eyes back to his phone.
I forced a faint smile.
"Still working this late?"
