Dante hadn't known sign language at first. After we married, he hired a tutor to communicate with me "without barriers." He'd stayed up all night practicing, even becoming ill from exhaustion.
I'd once wept, begging him to rest, but he had only ever gently brushed my tears away.
"You've suffered so much in your silent world. I want to be the only one who can enter it."
My heart had swelled with emotion.
He was the only one who had ever bothered to try for me. Not even Marco, the man I had saved, had ever considered learning. My own parents certainly wouldn't; they only had eyes for Isabella.
But now, watching his fluent signs, the irony was crushing.
He used the most tender gestures to show his care, all while exploiting my deafness to plot his devotion to another woman right in front of my face.
Then, he signed again.
"Elena, Isabella's birthday party is about to start. We should get going. If we're late, your parents will be upset."
Dante's eyes were bright with an anticipation that wasn't for me. It was for her. Isabella.
A dull ache throbbed in my chest. I pulled my hand from his, struggling to keep my composure.
"Wait for me. I'm going to change."
With that, I hurried upstairs, terrified the tears would spill over if I stayed a second longer.
After changing, I walked back downstairs, passing his study. The door was ajar.
Inside was the safe he never let me touch, claiming it held the family's most guarded secrets.
Now, a powerful compulsion drew me in.
Stepping into the study and opening the safe, I felt like the world's biggest fool.
There were no secret documents.
The safe wasn't filled with papers. It was a shrine to Isabella, filled with photos from her childhood to the day she became Marco's wife. Her every laugh, every tear, every fleeting expression.
But of me, his wife, there was nothing.
In five years of marriage, Dante had spent most of his time in this study. The warmth in my heart turned to ice.
So this was him "handling family affairs"—staring at another woman's photos, pining for her.
Deeper inside, I found a draft of a letter of intent for the casino transfer. The beneficiary was listed as Isabella's future child.
This casino was the Falcone's crown jewel, the business Dante had poured his soul into. And he was giving it away to her child, while I, his wife, had never even heard him mention it.
Next to it was a stack of confidential files.
The one on top read: "List of Rivals to be Eliminated for Isabella." Nearly every name was marked "completed."
For Isabella, Dante had sacrificed everything, even using his own marriage as a pawn in his game.
A profound coldness settled in my soul. The last ember of hope I held for Dante sputtered and died.
