“I need your help to fake a private jet crash,” I said quietly.

“It’s the only way I can ever leave Luca Moretti.”

People said he’d given up the Mafia throne for me.

They called him the man who traded power for love—

the heir who walked away from blood and gold just to marry a waitress from the slums.

For years, he made the world believe in us.

He built empires under my name.

He sent me roses every Monday.

He told the press I was his salvation.

But love doesn’t always mean loyalty.

While I was busy believing in forever,

he was building a second home behind my back—

one filled with laughter, toys,

and twin sons who had his eyes.

The night I disappeared, his empire burned.

He tore apart cities, bribed governments,

and buried men alive just to find me.

But by the time he did—

I was already gone.

And the woman he’d once died for

no longer loved him enough to stay alive.

When I found out, my world stopped.

I remember clutching the edge of the bed before everything went black.

They said I fainted from shock.

Luca Moretti — my husband, the man everyone called the golden heir of the Mafia — dropped a billion-dollar deal and flew home overnight.

He didn’t sleep for two days, sitting by my bedside, his face pale with fear.

When I finally opened my eyes, he was right there.

“Valeria,” he whispered, pressing my palm to his cheek. “You scared me half to death.”

This was the same man who’d once stared down a loaded gun without flinching, now trembling because I’d collapsed.

Looking into his eyes — those eyes I used to trust more than anything — hurt more than anything my body had felt.

Love like that couldn’t be faked.

And yet, I couldn’t stop wondering… did he ever look at her that way too?

Bianca Rizzo.

His childhood friend.

The woman who had given birth to his twins.

If I hadn’t seen the proof with my own eyes — the photos, the DNA report — I would have never believed it. The world saw Luca as perfect.

But perfection hides things. And his secret had been breathing beside another woman for an entire year.

I turned my face away and let the tears soak into the pillow.

My hand drifted to my stomach, trembling.

After years of failed IVF treatments, I was finally pregnant.

And all I could do was cry.

Luca pulled me into his arms, his voice low and tender.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Who upset you? Tell me and I’ll fix it.”

But then I caught a faint scent on his skin — expensive perfume I didn’t wear, mixed with the powdery sweetness of baby formula.

My stomach twisted. I shoved him away and stumbled toward the bathroom, retching.

He rushed after me, holding my hair, wiping my face.

He hated messes. He hated the smell of sickness.

And yet there he was, on his knees, whispering, “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

It almost broke me again — because in that moment, he was the man I fell in love with.

The one who used to walk through fire for me.

The one I thought I could never live without.

I almost forgave him.

I almost convinced myself that if he left Bianca, we could go back to what we were — start over, raise our baby together, pretend the world hadn’t already ended.

I opened my mouth to tell him.

“Luca, I—”

But his phone rang.

He kissed my forehead, said something about business, and walked out the door.

Thirty minutes later, Bianca sent me a photo.

Luca was holding the twins, his lips pressed to their foreheads.

The smile on his face wasn’t guilt — it was peace.

That photo destroyed the last bit of hope I had left.

When I left the hospital, I didn’t go home.

I went straight to Clara, my oldest friend — the only person I could still trust.

“Help me,” I said. “I need you to fake a plane crash.”

She stared at me in horror, but I didn’t blink.

Because I knew Luca.

He would never let me go.

And if I wanted to protect my baby, I had to disappear.

That night, I started packing.

I opened the wardrobe and took out every shirt I’d ever sewn for him.

I cut them into pieces and threw them away.

The diamonds he gave me — I handed them to the housekeepers.

And the sixteen photo albums we’d made over the years, promising to look at them together when we were old — I fed them one by one into the fireplace.

The pages curled, blackened, and turned to ash.

At midnight, my phone buzzed.

Clara: Everything’s ready. Two days from now, you vanish.

I didn’t sleep that night.

Every time I closed my eyes, I woke up crying. By dawn, I just sat there—knees pulled to my chest, staring into the dark until the sky turned gray.

When Luca came home the next morning, I pretended to be asleep.

He took off his coat, waited for the chill to fade from his body, and then pulled me into his arms. I could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong, against my back.

“Baby, look,” he said softly, opening his tablet.

A picture of an island glowed on the screen—white sand, blue water, the kind of paradise people write about.

“I just bought it,” he said, his voice almost boyish. “It’s for our child. And that’s not all—I’ve started building amusement parks across the country.

Every one will carry our child’s name. When we finally have one, I’ll throw a hundred-day celebration. The whole city will come to celebrate.”

He looked so proud of himself, so full of plans for a future I knew would never come.

He talked and talked, and it took him a full minute to realize I hadn’t said a single word.

Then he heard me sniffle.

He turned toward me—and froze. My face was wet with tears.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

He panicked instantly. Luca Moretti—the man who once faced down a rival family’s gunmen without blinking—was trembling because I was crying.

If I had one ounce of pain, he’d carry it a hundred times over. That was who he was—or who I thought he was.

I forced a small smile and wiped my eyes.

“It’s nothing,” I said. “I just watched a movie. The husband cheated on his wife.”

He relaxed, a smile tugging at his lips. “Then you have nothing to worry about. The rest of the world might cheat, but not me. Never me.”

He cupped my face. “I’ll stay with you all day. Tell me what you want to eat. I’ll cook.”

I shook my head. “It’s fine. I’m meeting some friends for lunch. You should go to work.”

He hesitated, but Luca never liked arguing with me.

So he followed me instead.

When we entered the private dining room, laughter filled the air.

“I knew it!” one of my friends teased. “If Valeria’s coming, Luca’s coming too. He never lets her out of his sight.”

Luca laughed, easy and charming, like he wasn’t the most feared man in the city.

He handed out the gifts he’d brought, one by one, to every woman at the table.

Gasps followed.

“Oh my God, this is the new L.T jewelry line—this set costs seven figures!”

“Luca, you spoil us every time! We’re only this lucky because of Valeria!”

They were right. Luca would do anything to make my friends like him, because when they smiled, I smiled. And he always said that my happiness was his oxygen.

Everyone at the table looked at me with open envy.

“Valeria, you’re so lucky,” one of them said dreamily. “He loves you so much.”

I smiled politely, the kind of smile that didn’t reach my eyes.

They couldn’t see that my luck was bleeding out of me, one quiet heartbeat at a time.

The laughter was still echoing when the door opened.

And there she was.

Bianca Rizzo.

Draped in pearls and confidence, she stepped into the room like she owned the air itself.

““Oh—did I walk into the wrong room?” she asked with a soft laugh. “Wait… aren’t these my old college friends?”?”

No one said a word. The tension in the room turned solid.

But Bianca didn’t seem to notice—or care.

She slid into the seat right across from me and glanced casually at the gift boxes in everyone’s hands.

“L.T,” she said, smiling faintly. “Famous brand. Though I guess most of you don’t know—it’s mine.”

She looked right at me as she added, “My husband invested billions to start it two years ago. He worked so hard—built twenty-six stores worldwide. He’s the best partner a woman could ask for.”

Her gaze flicked toward Luca, just for a heartbeat, then back to me.

The smile that followed was razor-sharp.

I couldn’t breathe.

Two years ago, Luca started coming home later than usual.

He said he was expanding the family business overseas, that things were “just busy.”

But now I know the truth.

He was busy building Bianca Rizzo’s empire.

The pain hit me so hard I had to clutch my chest to breathe.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Luca stood instantly, his chair scraping against the marble floor. “You’re pale. I’m calling a doctor.”

Before I could speak, Bianca’s voice sliced through the air like broken glass.

“Still playing the perfect wife act? Don’t strain yourself, he gets tired of fragile toys fast.—”

The sound of the slap was sharp enough to silence the entire room.

Luca’s hand came down across her cheek so hard that even I flinched.

“Say one more word,” he said quietly, his tone deadly calm, “and I’ll make sure you never speak again.”

Bianca pressed a hand to her face, eyes blazing, but she knew better than to push him.

She left without another word.

The laughter slowly returned to the dinner table, but my skin felt cold.

I could feel Luca watching me, his hand covering mine, voice soft with worry.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Let me take you to the hospital.”

I pulled away. “I’m fine. I just need the bathroom.”

But when I stepped into the hallway, she was waiting for me.

Bianca.

“You really think that slap means anything?” she hissed. “You’re his wife, sure. But I’m the one who gave him twins. If I tell him they’re sick, he’ll come running. Want to bet?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to.

Because when I returned to the table, Luca’s face was already pale with panic.

He rushed to me, kissed my forehead. “Sweetheart, something came up at work. I’ll be right back, okay? The manager has everything covered. Enjoy yourself.”

I gripped his sleeve. “Didn’t you promise to stay with me today? Please, Luca… stay.”

Something flickered in his eyes — guilt, hesitation, maybe fear.

He looked at me like he knew leaving would cost him something he couldn’t name.

But then he said softly, “I’ll be home tonight. I promise.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Half an hour later, my phone buzzed.

A message from Bianca.

A video.

I pressed play, my hands shaking.

Luca was there, feeding their children.

Bianca’s voice floated through the recording:

“You bought her an island, Luca. I’m jealous. I want it for our twins’ birthday.”

He frowned. “No. That island was for Valeria and our child.”

“You gave her an island as a love story,” Bianca said softly. “Give this one to me — so our sons will know they weren’t born from shame.”

And then — he nodded.

Bianca looked straight into the camera, smiling that same cruel smile.

“See? Even the things meant for you are mine the moment I ask. You lose.”

I sat there frozen, the phone heavy in my hand.

Every memory of his kindness stabbed through me like glass.

The way he once wrapped my injured hand in bandages, the way he carried me home through the rain —

everything he did for me, he could do for her.

I was done.

Tomorrow, I’d leave. For good.

That night, Luca came home to find me already in bed.

We’d never slept apart before. We used to wait for each other, even if it was dawn.

But this time, I couldn’t bear to see his face.

He lay beside me, pulling me close, breathing against my neck.

“I missed you so much,” he whispered. “It’s only been hours, but it felt like years. If you ever left me, I don’t think I could live.”

“...Really?” I murmured, eyes closed.

He kissed my shoulder. “By the way, about that island — I found out it’s not good luck for us. I bought two more. We’ll pick one together, okay?”

I smiled faintly into the darkness. “Do whatever you want.”

He hesitated, sensing something cold in my tone.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked quietly.

“No. I’m just tired.” I drew in a shaky breath. “Our anniversary is coming. Tomorrow afternoon, I’m flying out on a private jet. I ordered your gift overseas — I want to pick it up myself.”

“You’re pregnant, love. That’s a fifteen-hour flight. Let me go instead.”

I turned to him and smiled, the way I used to. “No. I want to do it myself.”

That broke him, like it always did. “Alright. Whatever you want.”

The next morning, he made me breakfast before leaving for work.

Before he walked out the door, I handed him a sealed envelope.

“It’s for you,” I said softly. “But don’t open it until two days from now.”

Inside were two things:

my pregnancy report,

and Bianca’s video.

By the time the news reached him — that my jet had gone down over the Atlantic —

he would open it.

He would know what his betrayal had cost him.

He would know he’d killed the woman he claimed he couldn’t live without.

And I wanted him to live every single day remembering that.

When he left, I packed my things and headed for the airport.

Halfway there, my phone buzzed again.

A message from Bianca.

“Hotel DeLuxe. He’s here. Don’t miss the show.”

I shouldn’t have gone. I knew what I’d find.

But I went anyway.

It was their twins’ birthday.

The Moretti elders, the family’s inner circle, all gathered around Bianca.

The waiters called her “Mrs. Moretti.”

Luca didn’t correct them.

He just smiled at her — that soft, familiar smile that once belonged to me.

Even his parents smiled. “If it weren’t for Bianca,” his mother said proudly, “the Moretti family would have no heir to carry our name.”

“Luca, promise me you’ll take good care of her.”

He laughed easily. “When have I ever treated her badly? Whatever Valeria has, Bianca has too — jewelry, clothes, everything.”

Something in me snapped.

Every sweet word he’d ever said, every kiss, every vow —

they all exploded inside me, leaving only ashes.

Everyone knew.

Everyone except me.

There was nothing left to fight for.

Nothing left to forgive.

As I turned to leave, I looked back one last time.

He was laughing, his arm around her shoulders.

I whispered under my breath, “Goodbye, Luca Moretti. Never again.”

A few hours later, while he played with the twins, his phone rang.

“Mr. Moretti,” his assistant’s voice stammered, “your wife’s jet—

it went down. Just past the Atlantic border.

There are no survivors.”

Luca froze. The color drained from his face.

“What… did you just say?”