After Eighteen Broken Promises

Eight years into my time with the Moretti family, I was both their most capable core member and Don Dominic's wife of three years—but we'd never actually signed the marriage contract.

　　Every single time we were about to go to City Hall to register, he'd ditch me for his female subordinate.

　　The first time, he left me waiting on the side of the road all day because she was sick and weak.

　　The second time, he dumped me halfway there because of one phone call from her.

　　After that, I got stood up again and again.

　　After being stood up for the seventeenth time, I decided to give them what they wanted.

　　I accepted the invitation to a top-tier medical project in Paris, packed my bags, and boarded a plane.

　　But when I actually left, he lost his mind...

Dominic and I had been together for eight years. He was the Don of the Moretti family.

In New York's underworld, everyone called me Donna.

Three years ago, we had a wedding at St. Patrick's Cathedral. Every major mob boss in America showed up. The whole thing was massive.

But only I knew the truth. That marriage contract, the one that would've given me legal protection—Dominic never signed it.

Today was his victory party for taking over Brooklyn territory. It was also the seventeenth time he'd promised to take me to City Hall after the party ended.

The banquet hall was thick with smoke. Expensive cigar fumes mixed with the smell of bourbon everywhere.

I sat next to Dominic. My body was burning up.

I had a fever. 103 degrees. My head felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it.

"Dominic, I can't hold on much longer." I leaned over to him, my breath coming out hot.

"Just hang in there, Elena." He casually patted the back of my hand, his tone completely flat. "You need to be here today. All the Moretti family's books are in your head. Those old foxes need to see you sitting here to feel confident this deal is solid."

A few crew leaders with scarred faces walked over holding glasses of bourbon. Deep down, they looked down on women. But they feared Dominic, so the only way they could reclaim their pathetic male ego was by making me drink.

"Ma'am, you gotta drink this one for the Don. All these years, without you keeping his books straight, the family couldn't have held onto this throne."

I stared at that dark brown liquid. My stomach cramped.

Dominic still wasn't looking at me.

He was methodically cutting into his bloody steak, then smoothly forking a piece and placing it on the plate of the girl sitting beside him.

That was Mia. His new protégé he'd been personally training for the past two years.

I took the glass and downed it in one gulp. The harsh alcohol burned like fire straight into my lungs, triggering a violent coughing fit. I desperately suppressed it in my throat, clinging to what little dignity I had left. Dominic only glanced at me from the corner of his eye. He showed no concern whatsoever.

When the party ended, New York's cold wind cut straight through to the bone.

Dominic, who was supposed to take me to City Hall, stopped at the door. He pulled open the car door, but just as I was about to get in, he blocked the entrance with his body.

"Mia got startled blocking a bullet for me earlier. And she's had too much to drink. I need to take her to the safe house first."

Without waiting for my response, he stepped right past me and carefully helped Mia into what should've been my passenger seat.

Mia half-closed her eyes, looking all fragile as she leaned against the leather seat. That tiny scratch on her arm, barely two centimeters long, was wrapped in layers and layers of bandages.

"We've missed the window for signing. City Hall's already closed." He got into the driver's seat without even looking back at me. "Another time. When I'm free. Take one of the guys' cars home. I'll bring you some jewelry tonight to make up for it."

The window slowly rose. He sealed it shut tight, afraid the cold wind would hit his delicate new recruit.

I stood under the streetlight. My hands and feet felt like ice.

I remembered all those times after I'd finish entertaining for him, reeking of alcohol. Even in minus-ten-degree winter weather, he'd roll down all the windows, letting the knife-like wind slice across my face, just to keep his car's air "fresh."

Turned out he never hated the smell of alcohol, I thought bitterly. He just didn't care about me.

I opened my purse and looked at that crumpled marriage contract draft.

I made up my mind right then and there. These eight years—I didn't want them anymore.

---

That afternoon, I went to the family headquarters.

I avoided Dominic's watchdogs and slapped my resignation statement directly onto the old advisor's desk.

"You're leaving? Does Dominic know?" The old advisor pushed up his reading glasses, shock written all over his face. "You're the family's financial brain. All the secret money flows are in your hands."

"I'll tell him tonight. Right now he's busy taking Mia to the opera. He's got no time for small matters like this." My tone was calm.

The old advisor let out a sigh. "That wedding three years ago was so grand. What a waste."

Not a waste, I thought. I just didn't want to keep feeding my youth to a cold-blooded wolf anymore.

---

I got home around ten at night.

My phone screen lit up. It was a post from Mia.

The photo showed a private box at a top opera house. Dominic's tall figure sat beside her, the lighting all soft and romantic. The caption read: "The best seat for the person who deserves it most. Thank you Dom~"

I scrolled past it without expression, turned off my phone, and opened my laptop. I clicked on an encrypted email from sender "S."

It was an invitation to a top-tier medical project in Paris.

Five years ago, Dominic nearly died on a mission in Paris. It was his only defeat. His forbidden territory. Not only would he never go there himself, he'd cut off every possibility of me developing anything there.

In the past, because I loved him, I'd turned down that invitation countless times to avoid any suspicion.

But now, my fingers on the mouse were more decisive than ever.

I clicked to accept the invitation. Then I booked a first-class ticket to Paris for two days later.

Dominic—let's never meet again in this lifetime.