Amara’s POV

The blood on my blouse had dried when I returned home. The deal with the smugglers had turned sour—shots fired, bodies dropped, and somehow, I’d managed to walk away. Barely.

I was exhausted and all I wanted was the comfort of my own bed, to lay my head down and forget the world for a few hours.

But as I pushed the door open, I froze.

Luca sat beside Casey on the bed—my bed. His sleeves were rolled up, his hands cradling a steaming bowl of soup while Casey leaned against the pillows with her lips curled into a faint, satisfied smile as Luca carefully brought the spoon to her mouth.

“What... what is this?”

Luca glanced at me with a calm expression, but it was almost indifferent. “You’re here,” he simply uttered and immediately turned back to Casey as if my presence was barely worth acknowledging. “Casey fainted earlier and the doctor said she needs rest.”

“In our room?” I questioned. This was more than a form of disrespect. I was still the Donna, regardless of the child the mistress was carrying.

“She’s pregnant, Amara,” he replied sharply, setting the bowl on the nightstand. “She’s sensitive right now. I won’t have her moved around. You can sleep in one of the guest rooms tonight.”

I stepped further into the room, my fists clenched at my sides. “What?! This is my bed, Luca. Our bed. If anyone should move, it’s her!” I pointed at her but the smug on her face did not fade.

He stood tall, looming over me, and his jaw tight in irritation. “I’m not having this conversation with you right now.”

“Not having this conversation?” My voice cracked as anger and hurt bubbled to the surface. “She shouldn’t even be here! How could you—”

“Enough!” Luca shouted firmly, making me jolt in place. “Do as I say, Amara. Go,” he ordered firmly, pointing at the opened door behind me, and I knew I had lost. The look in his eyes was not the same the way he had once used towards me—with passion, now they’d changed. He had changed.

I gritted my teeth and glared over Casey who wore a victorious smile, clearly enjoying the treatment she was getting and the dismissal I was receiving.

I swallowed hard, biting back the words threatening to spill out, fighting a war I knew I’d never win—he’d made his choice. And it wasn’t me. I turned away and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind me, and leaving them both in his fantasy.

The guest room felt like a cold prison. The bed was neatly made, untouched, and utterly lifeless. I sat on the edge, and despite its soft mattress, it felt hard beneath my body, and despite the thick blanket, it still felt cold to the touch. It was not the same as the warmth of my bedroom. I stared at the empty walls with the silence wrapping around me like a suffocating blanket that I had to endure.

I had never felt more humiliated in my life. My own husband had cast me aside — for her.

The image of Luca feeding Casey played on a loop in my mind, each replay was twisting the knife deeper in my chest. He had never done that for me. Not once. Not when I had fallen ill with a fever that left me bedridden for days, nor when I sprained my ankle and could barely walk.

When I needed him, Luca would send someone else—a housemaid, a doctor, anyone but himself. But for Casey? He sat at her bedside, tending to her like she was some fragile treasure.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips, and I bit back the tears that threatened to spill. I had given Luca everything — my loyalty, my love, my life. And in return, he gave me this: a cold bed in a guest room and a front-row seat to my humiliation.

I leaned back against the headboard as the memories flooded in.

—

The first time I met Casey was at a gala, one of those events Luca always insisted we attend. I remember standing by his side, a glass of champagne in hand, as he introduced her to the room.

“This is Casey Tartt,” he said. “She’s an advisor we’ve brought in to streamline our financial operations.”

She had looked so modest back then with her doe-like eyes darting nervously around the room. She barely spoke, she looked so innocent with a shy smile like she didn’t belong in the world we live in. I had even felt a flicker of pity for her, assuming she was just another cog in the syndicate’s machine.

But looking back, I should have noticed the way Luca’s hand lingered on her back a moment too long. Or the way her eyes flicked to him every few seconds, seeking his approval, and at the same time, luring him to her den.

At the time, I brushed it off. I had no reason to doubt Luca. And while things were not perfect, I thought we had a partnership built on love and trust.

Then the subtle changes began.

Luca started coming home later and later, his excuses growing thinner by the day. “Business meetings,” he would say, or “urgent matters with the council.” I did not question him at first. Luca was a busy man, the Don of the Obsidian Syndicate. His responsibilities were extensive.

But then there were the whispers—the hushed conversations that stopped when I entered a room, the lingering glances between Casey and Luca at meetings.

I was a fool.

I believed his lies.

Casey was not just another advisor. She was not just some woman brought in to streamline operations. She was Luca’s mistress, his lover, the mother of the child he so desperately wanted, because I could not give him an heir, no matter how much we tried.

A knock at the door came, and my head snapped up. I wiped at my face quickly, straightening my posture as the door creaked open.

It was one of the maids. “Don Luca has requested your presence tomorrow to join them at a luncheon in Le Nora Vox with Miss Casey and other guests.”

Luca wanted me to play the dutiful Donna. Fine. But I would remind him exactly who I was—and what I was capable of.

Amara’s POV

I should’ve known Luca wasn’t requesting me to this luncheon out of goodwill. Le Nora Vox was not just a restaurant; it was a place where power was displayed.

Luca sat at the head with Casey seated at his right. She didn’t glance at me to show respect, she must be so confident now that Luca had taken her side.

I took my seat at the opposite end of the table. I was the Donna after all, and I’d be damned if I let Casey think she could sit across from me as an equal.

“We’re here to discuss the future of the Syndicate,” Luca began, “And to ensure there’s no misunderstanding about what’s best for the family.” His eyes went to me, serious, and warning.

Casey tilted her head with a face that was deceptively sweet. “Luca thought it would be good for us to spend more time together—especially now that the heir is on the way.”

My fingers curled tightly around the base of the glass. “An heir doesn’t make you a queen, Casey. You’d do well to remember that.”

Her smile faltered for a second. “Of course, Donna. I am here to support Luca in any way I can. And the baby is a blessing for all of us since you cannot bear one.”

I felt the veins in my neck throbbed and my blood boiled, making me tremble but I fought to keep my composure. The room felt too quiet, as though everyone had heard her insult and was waiting for my reaction.

My lips curved into a faintly sarcastic smile, though the heat in my chest threatened to be unleashed. “How generous of you, Casey. You’ve certainly proven your... value.”

She paled, and I didn’t care who else had heard or what the others thought. The message was clear. She was a lowborn bitch.

Luca’s gaze shifted to me in a warning. “Amara, we all want what’s best for the family. Casey’s pregnancy is a gift. I need you to accept that and act accordingly.”

“Accept what, exactly?” I retorted, narrowing my eyes at him. “That you’ve paraded your mistress in front of me and now expect me to play nice? That you have undermined everything we have built together for... this?” I gestured subtly toward Casey.

Casey shifted in her seat, placing a protective hand over her stomach. “Donna Amara, I understand this is hard for you. But you need to see the bigger picture. This child—our child—will secure the future of the Syndicate.”

“Our child,” I scoffed, snickering sarcastically, yet classily still, and took a sip of the champagne that was just poured by a waiter beside me.

“You speak as if you’ve already replaced me,” I said, glaring at her.

“You’ve replaced yourself,” Luca snapped, “By denying the Syndicate what it needs. Casey is doing what you couldn’t. You should be grateful.”

“So, this is how it is now?” I replied sharply, my gaze shifting between Luca and Casey. “She flaunts what she thinks she has, and you lap it up like a fool?”

“Enough,” Luca growled, slamming his hand on the table, drawing the attention of a few servers who quickly pretended not to notice.

“Enough?! You drag me here to put on this pathetic display of power, and now you want to silence me?”

“This is a warning. Either you fall in line, or you make things harder for everyone—including yourself.”

A knot of fury twisted in my chest, but I refused to let it show. I wasn’t going to leave crying and looking so pathetic. I wasn’t the one who had done anything wrong.

I stood, smoothing my dress and lifting my chin. “Enjoy your luncheon,” I uttered icily. “But don’t mistake my silence for submission.”

I turned and walked away, ignoring the heat of their stares on my back. My heels clicked against the marble floor as I made my way to the exit.

But then something stopped me. A strong aura that was difficult to ignore. Being a part of the Mafia, I learned to distinguish people and feel their power to gauge them. It was a subtle skill that was crucial in this kind of lifestyle.

I glanced toward the second floor, where a private balcony overlooked the heart of Le Nora Vox and I saw him.

Don Matteo Vitale.

His mere presence was commanding—everything about him screamed danger wrapped in elegance. He stood still for a moment, watching me, then began descending the stairs, while holding my gaze, and I couldn’t turn away.

Matteo wasn’t the type to appear without reason. For a man like him, every move had a purpose. By the time he reached me, I wore a facade of cold indifference. He was a rival, the head of Vitalus Circle I can’t afford to show weakness in front of this man.

“Donna Amara,” he greeted without hiding the amusement in his voice. “It seems congratulations are not in order.”

I didn’t respond. I refuse to be lured into his den for I knew that he was eyeing for a weakness to attack.

“News travels fast in our world,” he continued. “Your family is in disarray. Luca has chosen his... priorities.” He glanced briefly toward the dining room before settling back on me, making his point.

“And what does that have to do with you?”

He smirked. “I’m here to offer you a choice. Divorce Luca Moretti. Leave the Obsidian Syndicate behind, and I’ll help you destroy him. Thoroughly.”

Tempting.

I never expected less from ‘the’ Matteo Vitale.

“And why would you want to do that?” I demanded. “What’s in it for you?”

“Do I need a reason?” Matteo shrugged lightly, but his eyes gleamed with something deeper—something I couldn’t quite pin down. “Let’s just say I have an interest in you.”

Liar.

Matteo Vitale was never without an agenda. Whatever his plan was, it wasn’t out of goodwill. I knew better than to trust a man like him.

And yet...

The idea of Luca’s downfall, of seeing him stripped of his power, his pride, and everything he’d taken from me, was a temptation I couldn’t deny. Matteo was ruthless, cunning, and, most importantly, capable of delivering the kind of revenge I craved.

“I’ll think about it,” I simply replied.

His smirk widened, a predator sensing its prey. “You have three days, Amara. After that, my offer is off the table.”

I held my tongue and watched him turn and walk away, leaving a bait within reach but certain to disappear before I dared claim it.

Matteo Vitale definitely knew how to play.

Amara’s POV

"What the hell did you do?" Luca bellowed as he stormed in, the door to my office slamming open with a deafening crash, splintering the wood against the wall.

"Luca, what are you talking about?" I demanded, recovering from the surprise of his sudden visit.

"Don’t play innocent with me, Amara!" he spat, stalking toward me like a predator closing in on its prey. "Casey is in the hospital because of you. The brakes on her car were tampered with, and don’t you dare act like you had nothing to do with it."

I froze. "What?" I questioned in disbelief. "You think I would stoop so low?"

His eyes burned with rage, and he sneered at me as if I were something vile. "Don’t lie to me! You couldn’t stand that she’s carrying my child, could you? You wanted her dead because of your jealousy, your bitterness!"

His accusations hit me like a slap in the face, and my head throbbed in anger, my breath coming in shallow bursts. "I didn’t touch her car. I’d never hurt her, no matter how much she…" I swallowed hard, anger and betrayal tangling inside me. "How can you even think I’d do such a thing?"

"Because it’s exactly the kind of thing you’d do, Amara!" he roared, slamming his fist on the desk. The sound echoed, and a lamp tumbled to the floor, shattering. "You had every motive—especially now that half of your f*cking assets have been transferred to Casey’s name. You’d kill her!"

I stared at him, "What did you just say?" my voice barely carried the words as I stepped towards him, my fists clenching at my sides and I wanted to punch him to scream in his face, but the shock was still swirling in my system.

My assets, everything I worked hard for, she had gotten half of it?! No. It can’t be!

Luca stepped closer, his face contorted in a mix of anger and disdain. "Half of what was yours is now hers. She deserves it more than you ever did. She’s carrying my child, Amara. That means everything in this family."

"You gave her what belongs to me?!"

"You don’t deserve any of it," he barked. "Not after the way you’ve acted. You’re a bitter, conniving woman, Amara. Casey deserves better, and so do I."

"How dare you?" I hissed, stepping closer to him. My body trembled, but it wasn’t fear; it was rage. "You had no right. I built this family alongside you. I’ve given everything for The Obsidian, and you hand over what’s rightfully mine to her?"

"Don’t stand there pretending to be the victim," he snapped. "You’re nothing but a jealous, spiteful woman."

"I did nothing to Casey!" I shouted, my voice cracking under the weight of my anger. "Nothing! And you accuse me of trying to kill her because you think I’m jealous? Because you gave her what you stole from me?"

Luca’s eyes darkened, and before I could react, he grabbed me by the throat and slammed me against the wall. The impact stole the air from my lungs, and I clawed at his wrist as he tightened his grip.

"Pray that nothing happens to Casey or my child," he growled, venomously. "If they don’t survive, I’ll kill you. Do you hear me? I. will. kill. You.” And with every word he uttered, he tightened his grip, leaving me no air, feeling my lungs burning and my face hot with blood rushing.

When he released me, I collapsed to the floor, coughing and gasping for air. Tears blurred my vision as I clutched my neck with trembling hands. But the pain wasn’t just physical—it was the final, shattering blow to everything I had left.

Luca loomed over me, towering at my crumpled body. "This is your last warning, Amara. Cross me again, and I’ll strip you of everything—your power, your name, your life." He stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

For a long moment, I stayed there, catching my breath. The silence in the room felt deafening. My thoughts swirled with a storm of anger, hurt, and despair. He had taken everything. My trust. My dignity. My legacy. And now, he had tried to take my life.

I pushed myself to my feet, clutching the edge of the desk for support.

I couldn’t stay any longer. Not as his wife, his Donna, or anything else.

It’s over. I’m done.

Now, it’s time to claim the devil’s offer.

~~~

Two days later, I walked into the City hall, hiding the bruises on my neck beneath a high-collared coat. My lawyer trailed behind me, clutching the divorce documents. The Judge behind the desk paled as soon as he saw me, his pen halting mid-signature.

"Ms. Amara Saints," he began, his voice trembling slightly. "These matters take time…" he said after glancing at the divorce papers.

I cut him off with an icy glare. "You’ll process these immediately," I uttered, leaving no room for argument.

He stammered, glancing at my lawyer as if for backup. He knew who I was, who we are, and that we are beyond the law in this cruel world.

"These things… there are procedures. It could take up to a week to—"

"Two days," I interrupted sharply, leaning forward. "You’ll finalize this in two days. And if that’s not possible…" I smiled, a faint, humorless curve of my lips, "you’ll wish it were."

The color drained from his face, giving away that he understood what I meant. "Yes, of course. Two days," he said hastily, his hands trembling.

I straightened, satisfied. "Good. And just so you’re clear, Matteo Vitale knows about this. I trust you understand what that means."

His eyes widened at the mention of Matteo’s name, and he nodded quickly. "It will be done, Ms. Saints." I knew he feared him more because he could take his life, or strip him of his name and power. It’s a world where the ones seated are not the actual rulers—the gods are hidden behind curtains—like marionettes pulling strings to make the government dance at their will.

I turned and strode out. I stopped against a Corinthian column and dialed Matteo. The line clicked after a single ring.

"Amara Saints," he sounded amused. And knowing him, he must’ve heard the news already. The Judge probably contacted him to confirm.

"The divorce is being processed. It’ll be finalized in two days.”

There was a pause, followed by a low, devilish chuckle. "Efficient. Just as I’d expected from you, Amara" Matteo said, his voice warm with approval. "Good girl."