After my husband Dante’s brother, a family Capo, was killed in a hit by a rival family, Dante took on the responsibility of caring for his sister-in-law, Bianca, and his nephew.
His reason was simple: “Family takes care of family.”
To outsiders, the three of them looked like a close-knit, happy family.
However, as my father lay on his deathbed, my husband was busy putting out a fire with a rival family—a crisis sparked by Bianca’s reckless actions.
I sank to my knees, weeping. "My father is dying. Please, go see him one last time, I'm begging you!"
But Dante's voice was cold and merciless. "Tell your father to hang on! I'm busy!"
I waited for two full hours, but in the end, my father passed without seeing the son-in-law he’d handpicked for me one last time.
Heartbroken and exhausted, I finally told him I wanted a divorce. "The three of you can go be your own happy family."
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1
After my father's funeral, Dante and I barely spoke. The silence between us was a suffocating weight.
Today was my father's memorial service. According to tradition, we were supposed to go to the church together. But Dante went straight to Bianca's place early in the morning and was gone for the entire day.
I had messaged him at noon, asking if he would join me at the church. Eight hours later, all I’d gotten back was silence.
This wasn't the first time Dante had abandoned me for Bianca.
It didn't matter if we were on a date, at a dinner party, in a family meeting, or even in bed. One call from Bianca, and he would drop me without a second thought.
He always said that his brother’s death left a widow and an orphan vulnerable, and that it was his duty to protect them.
I told myself that if Dante and Bianca ever crossed a line, I would leave.
Yet, every time I confronted him, he would firmly deny it, telling me I was overthinking things.
I tried to find a balance, a way for him to fulfill his promise to his brother to care for them without destroying our marriage.
But it was no use.
I thought I had grown numb. But what happened seven days ago shattered me completely.
My father, the respected Consigliere of the Falcone family, passed away a week ago after a long battle with illness.
In his final moments, he kept looking toward the door. I knew he was waiting, hoping to see Dante one last time.
I ran to the emergency exit at the end of the hallway to beg Dante to come, but he impatiently pushed me aside.
"My father is dying. Please, go see him one last time. I'm begging you!" I cried, kneeling on the cold marble floor.
But his voice was ice-cold. "Tell your father to hang on! I'm busy!"
What was he so busy with? Putting out another fire that Bianca had started, comforting her while she panicked over the consequences.
I wiped away my tears, splashed cold water on my face in the restroom, and pasted on a smile before returning to my father's bedside.
"Dante is handling an urgent family matter, he'll be done soon. He'll be here in a moment, Papa, just hold on a little longer."
He waited for another two hours before his eyes closed for the last time.
The man who had once sworn to respect my father as his own had missed his final moments. And now, he’d missed the memorial service too.
I sat on the cold hospital floor, feeling like a lifetime had passed. By the time Dante finally showed up, my tears had run dry.
He knelt in front of me, his face a mask of exhaustion and guilt.
"Elena, I'll go pay my respects tomorrow, I'll apologize. Just... please don't be angry."
"Let's get a divorce."
"What?!"
Dante frowned at me. "I know you're upset, but don't say things like that."
I gazed at his chiseled face, my own eyes hollow. I was too exhausted to even explain it wasn't a threat made in anger.
After a long silence, he finally spoke again.
"Can't we talk about this properly? Why is leaving always your first threat? It’s not like I’ve done anything unforgivable."
A cold, mocking smile touched my lips. "Think about it yourself. How many times have you stood me up for Bianca's messes? You even missed my father's final moments just to comfort her."
"So, this is about Bianca again? Do you have to be so petty?" Dante snapped, his tone sharp with annoyance. "Elena, for Christ's sake, have some compassion. She's a widow."
"Ha!" A sharp, cold laugh escaped my lips.
Bianca had received millions in compensation and assets from her husband's death. Dante also gave her a generous allowance every month, and his mother, Carmela, helped raise her son. What hardship, exactly, was she facing?
