On our wedding anniversary, I get shot by a rival family during a crossfire. When I'm brought to the hospital while drenched in my own blood, I come across Don Marco Lombardi, my husband, who's supposed to be negotiating a business deal in Asterra right now.

Apparently, he's supporting his ex-girlfriend, Lucia Santoro, as they wait for her medical check-up.

The moment we come across each other, I gaze at Marco calmly. "What a coincidence."

Even though there's panic crossing his eyes, he makes no move to approach me.

As I stumble out of the operation room while leaning against the wall for support, I hear Lucia telling Marco, "You should go check on the Donna. I think she's badly hurt."

But Marco sounds extraordinarily confident. "It's fine. I'll accompany you through your check-up first. She loves me too much to ever leave me anyway."

I let out a cold chuckle at his words. Is he that confident that I will never leave him, hmm?

When I woke up on the hospital bed five hours later, there was no one else in the ward besides me. It seemed Marco Lombardi still hadn't come by.

I struggled to sit up, wanting to reach for the glass to take a drink, when I saw the nurse walk in carrying replacement IV fluids.

"Here, let me help you, Ms. Esposito," the nurse said, bringing the glass to my lips. "The doctor said if the bullet had struck just half an inch to the side, you would've lost the entire arm. You'll need to take it easy for a while, so don't take any chances."

I swallowed the water and said, "Alright, thank you."

The nurse removed the empty IV bottle and hung up the new one she had brought in.

"Ms. Esposito, I haven't seen anyone here keeping you company. Why isn't your husband here taking care of you?"

"He's busy, and I can take care of myself," I replied with a weak smile.

When the nurse turned around, I saw Marco walk in. He sauntered over to the couch and sat down with an indifferent air.

"What have you gotten yourself into again now? As the Donna of the family, not only did you fail to protect yourself, but you went walking around covered in blood. What would the other families say about me if they saw that?"

Marco started right in with accusations and complaints. He didn't even ask where I was hurt or how serious it was.

"Don't you remember what day it is today?" I carefully studied his expression. If he showed even a hint of guilt, I'd be willing to forgive him one more time.

"No, what is it?" He glanced impatiently at his watch, then stood up and made to leave. "You seem fine enough. Get some rest. I have to go back and handle family matters. I'll come see you tonight."

Without another word, I watched him turn and stride out the door.

As expected, Marco didn't make it back to the hospital, and I had to ask the nurse to help me with dinner.

It wasn't just that night. I didn't see him again, even after my stitches were removed ten days later and I'd completed my discharge from the hospital.

Not only did I not see him, but I also didn't receive a single text or call from him.

But by now, I no longer cared.

When I got home from the hospital and opened the door, I saw a thin layer of dust on the floor. I walked over to the dining table and ran my hand across it. My fingers came away covered in dust just the same.

The cake I had made to celebrate our wedding anniversary was still on the dining table. It had already begun to rot.

It seemed that in all the days I was hospitalized, Marco hadn't come home even once.

The thought crossed my mind that he might have been with Lucia Santoro the whole time. I walked over to the couch and sat down. Then, I unlocked my phone and saw the photos Lucia had been posting on social media nonstop over the past few days.

Every single one of them had Marco in it.

There was one picture of Marco, all smiles, cooking in the kitchen. The caption read, "He says cooking for the one he loves most is the happiest thing in the world."

And yet, in all our years of marriage, he had never once cooked for me. In fact, this was the first time I had ever seen him bustling about in the kitchen.

It was for Marco that I first set foot in the kitchen. I learned to cook alongside our housekeeper, Teresa Rossi, trying to tailor every dish to Marco's taste.

During that time, Marco would lavish praise on me at the dinner table every single night. He said that having me was the greatest blessing of his life.

After that, the kitchen became my domain.

Just then, Lucia posted another update. She was standing beside a jewelry counter, and Marco was fastening a necklace around her neck with an adoring expression.

"He says only the most precious rubies are worthy of me."

I recognized that necklace instantly. Last month, I had spotted it at the mall and fallen in love with it at first sight. I had hoped Marco would buy it for me as a wedding anniversary gift, but he rejected it outright the moment he saw the price.

"Chiara, this necklace costs eight million dollars. The family is in a phase of rapid expansion right now, so funds are extremely tight. As the Donna, you need to get your priorities straight."

And yet now, the very necklace that was too extravagant for me was draped around Lucia's neck.

Once, at a family gathering, Marco announced in front of everyone that I was the woman he loved most, and so I would be the one and only Donna in the family.

He would also introduce me to others at various social events, showing off how wonderful I was.

Thinking back on all the good things he had done in the past, I calmly stood up. I didn't even have the slightest urge to read the comments.

Before, when I saw posts like these, I would throw fits, demand an explanation from Marco, and make up every excuse for him.

But the moment I heard him say I'd never leave him, it all clicked. He simply took it for granted that I'd stay, so he felt free to hurt me however he pleased.

And yet, he was the one who pursued me in the beginning.

Back then, I was still in college, and he hadn't yet become the Don. A traffic accident brought the two of us together.

From that moment on, he began pursuing me relentlessly. He kept showering me with jewelry and expensive gifts. And no matter how busy he was, he would come to campus every single night to have dinner with me.

I said yes to Marco, gave up my studies, and became the Donna of a mafia family. In short, I gave him all of my heart.

After we married, he continued to dote on me just as before. It wasn't until Lucia returned from abroad that everything changed.

When Lucia came back, Marco introduced her to me as a friend he'd grown up with and a close buddy of his.

When I first met her, I thought Lucia looked somewhat familiar. It wasn't until Marco stood me up for the first time because of her that I realized belatedly that she and I actually looked somewhat alike.

It sent me spiraling into self-doubt. I kept going to Marco for answers, but all he told me was that we were nothing alike.

I once arrogantly believed that I meant more to Marco than Lucia did.

But later, I heard through family gossip that Lucia was actually Marco's ex-girlfriend. She had broken up with him and gone abroad just one month before he and I met.

And the reason Lucia had returned this time was that her family had been massacred by their enemies, leaving her unable to survive overseas.

Marco assured me over and over again that he no longer had any feelings for Lucia, that he was only taking pity on her.

"She's going through a difficult time right now, so you have to understand that I need to help her get through this."

From then on, Lucia kept showing up in our lives, and the bond between her and Marco only grew tighter.

It wasn't until I overheard their conversation that I could finally no longer deceive myself.

Now that I saw things for what they were, it was time to walk away. I absolutely refused to make myself small for any man.

I went back to the bedroom and started packing up my things. Even though we had been married for several years, I had pathetically little to my name.

As the Donna, I was expected to lead by example. Thus, while the family was expanding, lavish spending was out of the question.

In just a few minutes, I had packed everything up. Looking at the master bedroom, which was almost unchanged, I felt as if a lifetime had passed.

I'd poured all of my heart and soul into Marco and the family, but all I got in return was his betrayal and indifference.

With my suitcase in hand, I sat quietly on the couch in the living room, waiting for Marco to come back.

I wasn't sure if he would come home, but all I wanted was to end things with him once and for all.

It wasn't until 2:00 am that he finally stumbled in, drunk.

When he saw me sitting on the couch, Marco showed not the slightest trace of guilt. Instead, he scolded me as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Why didn't you tell me you were being discharged? What would the family think if they found out? Go grab me a can of ginger ale!"

He sat down on the couch with his eyes closed and his brow furrowed, waiting for me to bring him the ginger ale.

I studied him carefully. He was wearing the suit I'd bought him, his hair impeccably groomed, and he carried a faint scent of women's perfume.

He showed no sign whatsoever of being worn out from family affairs. If anything, he looked like he had just come back from a date.

I took one look at his indifferent expression and burst out laughing.

While I was in the hospital, covered in wounds with no one to care for me, he had been out on dates with Lucia. Even after I was discharged, he hadn't shown me the slightest concern.

At the sound of my laughter, Marco finally opened his eyes. When he saw the suitcase at my feet, he demanded in a tone thick with displeasure, "What's with the suitcase?"

"Marco, I want a divorce."

When I actually said the word "divorce" out loud, it didn't hurt as much as I'd imagined.

But Marco just sneered coldly, as if he'd heard some kind of joke. "Chiara, what did you just say?"

I looked at him steadily and repeated, "I want a divorce. My lawyer, Davide Moretti, will deliver the divorce papers to you."

Marco sauntered up to me with open disdain and made a move to embrace me, but I slipped out of reach. My evasion only added to the annoyance written all over his face.

"Can you just stop this already? I've been dealing with family matters and looking after Lucia these past few days, so I'm exhausted and don't have the energy to comfort you."

I interrupted Marco immediately, not willing to spare him even a shred of dignity. "Once we're divorced, you can look after Lucia without having to hide it."

Marco's expression instantly darkened. "Chiara Esposito, what are you throwing a fit about this time? Lucia is already having a hard time as it is, so why must you compete with her for my attention? Where's your dignity as the Donna?"

I scoffed. "Dignity? Are you referring to how I was severely wounded and hospitalized from a shootout on our wedding anniversary, while you were busy cozying up to Lucia? Should I be clapping for the two of you?"

Marco's eyes, tinged with guilt, darted away. He stepped forward again, trying to pull me into his arms.

"I'm sorry. I have been neglectful lately. I'll have someone else look after Lucia. Let's celebrate our anniversary properly this time, okay? We'll invite everyone in the family to celebrate with us.

"The family's in an expansion phase, and I'm already worn out dealing with business every day. Try to be a little understanding, will you?"

Hearing him say that, I was finally angered to the point of laughing.

I forcefully broke free from his embrace and said, "Dealing with business? Two days ago, you were cooking for Lucia. Yesterday you were out buying her jewelry. Today you were on a date with her.

"So, when exactly did you find time for dealing with business? It's just not me, is it? Even the family comes second to Lucia in your eyes."

Marco was left speechless by my questions. His lips parted, but not a single word of rebuttal came out.

He was so used to me being gentle and obedient. That was why he could say with such certainty that I'd never leave him and why he wasn't the least bit afraid to dismiss the talk of divorce as nothing more than one of my little tantrums.

"You just got out of the hospital, so I don't want to argue with you. Sleep on it tonight, and we can discuss how to celebrate our anniversary tomorrow."

As he spoke, he loosened his tie and made to head upstairs.

"I don't need to sleep on it. I'm perfectly clear-headed right now. I've already asked Mr. Moretti to prepare the divorce papers. He'll deliver them to you tomorrow. I won't be coming back."

Marco whipped his head, staring at me in disbelief.

At last, I saw panic in his eyes.