Every time my husband, Lorenzo, cheated on me, he would give me ownership of a casino.

After four years of our arranged marriage, I owned ninety-nine casinos—one for each time I had silently endured his infidelity.

Recently, he concluded a three-day "business negotiation."

He brought back the deed to a new casino in Las Vegas—the 100th gift.

In that moment, I knew. It was time to ask for a divorce.

————————

1

I had just torn up the medical report confirming my miscarriage and flushed it down the toilet when Lorenzo "Enzo" Costello strode through the door.

Three days ago, his so-called "negotiation" was actually a flight to Miami to celebrate another woman's birthday.

He gave that woman a ten-million-dollar yacht.

Meanwhile, I had lost our child during an attack because he had pulled my security detail away.

Standing in the silence of our home, I stared at the safe, filled to the brim with deeds—ninety-nine of them.

Then I had the butler pour me a whiskey on the rocks, pointedly ignoring my doctor’s orders to avoid alcohol.

Lorenzo strode over and plucked the glass from my hand, setting it aside. "You haven't recovered. You can't be drinking this."

He took a folder from his briefcase and handed it to me. "I brought you a gift. This one was tough to get."

Inside was the deed to a new casino in Las Vegas. Rare, expensive, and valued in the hundreds of millions.

He wasn't lying. This kind of territory was hard to conquer. He had deployed the family's top resources.

If he had given this to me before our marriage, I might have jumped into his arms.

But now, I couldn't even muster a hint of interest. I didn't want to look at it.

He crouched in front of me, trying to catch my eye. "Still angry? Is it because I missed your mother's memorial dinner? If you want, I can go with you to the cemetery right now."

I avoided his gaze, my voice was flat. "No, thank you. Her memorial was three days ago."

Before we were married, we had made a pact.

We could miss any anniversary—but he had to be at my mother's memorial dinner.

For the first three years, he kept his promise.

This year, when I called him, he told me in that magnetic voice of his that he had flown to Las Vegas early that morning.

So I went alone.

It was only when I was standing at my mother's grave that I learned from one of my father's informants that Lorenzo had never gone to the negotiation. He was partying on a yacht in Miami with a woman, and he had even given the yacht to her.

It was then that I lost our child.

"That was your mother's memorial? Shit. Baby, I'm so sorry. I completely forgot."

He looked surprised, and it didn't seem like an act.

He got down on one knee, took my hand, and tried to charm his way out of it as he always did. "Let me make it up to you. I'll get you another island—a better one. This casino cost a hundred million; I'll buy you one for three hundred million."

Every time Lorenzo screwed up, he used the same playbook—apologize, play the devoted husband, and then drown everything in money.

In the six years I’d known him, I had never once seen him raise his voice at me.

To the outside world, he was the perfect Don, the dream of every woman.

But I was the only one who knew the core of our marriage had long since rotted away.

I was about to say the word divorce—when a sudden pang of hunger interrupted my thoughts.

He smiled, patting my head as if comforting a child. "I'll have the kitchen make you some soup. You think about what you want—another casino, or maybe an estate."

He walked into the kitchen.

His phone buzzed on the bar.

I picked it up.

A message from Scarlett popped up.

[Enzo, thank you for the huge yacht! I had so much fun these last three days.]

My heart sank. I tapped on her social media profile.

Her background photo was a picture of her and Lorenzo on the yacht.

She was facing the camera, wet hair clinging to her face, a wild and triumphant smile on her lips. He had his back to the camera, only a powerful silhouette outlined by the sunset.

My hands began to tremble. I scrolled down her feed.

Every post for the past three days was about their sailing trip.

[He's here—my champagne finally has someone to pop it!]

[Oh my god, the way my king smiles is so captivating!]

[POV: A boss lady and her mafia Don!]

Lorenzo had liked almost every single one.

The latest post was a photo of the casino deed he had just given me.

[Ugh. So tasteless. I wouldn't take that for free; it would just clutter up the place.]

That was the only one he hadn't liked.

The phone vibrated again.

[Enzo, I started drinking again after you left. Can you come keep me company at my penthouse tonight?]

I frowned.

His voice drifted from the kitchen. "Baby, the soup's almost ready!"

My fingers flew across the screen as I installed the surveillance software I had prepared, erasing all traces before setting the phone back on the bar just as I'd found it.

Lorenzo walked out with a bowl of clear matsutake soup, glanced at his phone, and his smile faltered.

Then his face turned serious. "There's some urgent family business. I have to go back to headquarters."

I slowly stirred the soup with my spoon. "If you're going to be late, just stay the night."

"Okay."

He looked relieved. Before he left, he even arranged for the family doctor to be on call for me.

After Lorenzo left, I tossed the casino deed into the safe.

The safes could only hold twenty deeds each. This was the fifth one I'd had to fill.

This collection began three years ago. That was the first time rumors surfaced of Lorenzo having an affair with a young starlet.

He’d rushed home to explain, claiming it was a business move to extract information. To prove it, he’d bought a casino and signed the deed over to me.

When I received it, I actually smiled.

Back then, it felt like an apology, like he cared about my feelings and knew I needed to be placated.

But then, the deeds kept coming. More and more, each one more extravagant and more glaring than the last.

Eventually, I couldn't smile anymore.

Six months ago, on my birthday, he gave me my 80th casino.

That night, I made up my mind. As soon as I collected 100, I would initiate my divorce plan.

Half an hour later, my phone vibrated.

A flirty, wild female voice crackled through the speaker.

"Baby, are you here yet? Ugh, I miss you so much."

It was the surveillance software I'd installed on Lorenzo's phone, streaming audio to my own in real time.

He had gone to see Scarlett.

"You're the one who called me. How much did you drink?" he asked.

She let out a playful hum. "Just kidding. I didn't drink. I just didn't want you to go back to that ice princess."

Lorenzo was silent for a moment, then said coldly, "Scarlett, don't call her that."

She scoffed. "Fine, I get it. No bad-mouthing her—even when she's not here."

"Wow. She'd be so touched to know you're defending her honor," she purred, her tone light but dripping with acid.

Lorenzo took a deep breath. "Come here."

A series of wet kisses followed, then the sound of a door locking.

Silence. They must have gone into the bedroom.

Half an hour later, the software picked up some whispers.

"Enzo, did you take care of that thing you promised me? It's been three days since Ares died," she asked sweetly.

"Yes." He hesitated, but his voice was still gentle. "I'll go with you tomorrow. This has to be a secret. Don't let Isabella find out."

A sharp pain twisted in my stomach.

Ares was Scarlett's beloved horse. I didn't know it had died.

What was Lorenzo helping her with that had to be hidden from me?

Before I could dwell on it, the sounds from the phone shifted as they moved into the bedroom.

The sounds of their passion were long and torturous.

I lay awake until dawn.

I had heard about Scarlett long ago.

She was Lorenzo's teenage first love. They had dated openly until his mother, Caterina, put a stop to it. Caterina had even run a background check on her.

No one knew what she found, but the elders of both families agreed they should be separated.

Lorenzo fought it for months.

But in the end, it was Scarlett who gave up first. She took a deal from Caterina and left for Europe.

Lorenzo had moped for years, right up until our marriage was arranged to consolidate the families' power.

I thought he was over her when he married me.

Clearly, I was wrong.

I clicked on a photo Scarlett had posted, this time of a company's registration documents.

Lorenzo had bought gifts for women before—jewelry, luxury cars, high fashion—but never an asset of this caliber.

This was a first.

The next morning, Lorenzo came home.

He saw the dark circles under my eyes, sat beside me, and pulled me into his arms. "Didn't sleep well last night?" he asked with concern.

"No," I said, rubbing my temples and gently extricating myself from his arms. "Can you make me some pasta? I'm hungry."

"Of course. Anything for my wife," he said with a gentle smile, as if nothing had happened.

He walked into the kitchen.

I picked up his phone and opened his chat with Scarlett.

The latest messages were from ten minutes ago.

[Once you're done placating the Principessa, can you come pick me up? I want to go to the Rossi family cemetery with you.]

[Okay. Don't tell anyone.]

[Don't worry, baby. Love you~]

A chill ran down my spine.

What were they going to do at my mother's Rossi family cemetery?

After breakfast, Lorenzo said he was going to a meeting.

I didn't believe him.

I printed a copy of the old file Caterina kept on Scarlett, then drove to the cemetery.

Two hours later, I walked through the cemetery gates—and sure enough, there they were.

Standing right in front of my mother's grave.

Scarlett was dressed in a black dress, cradling a lavish urn, her eyes filled with sorrow.

Beside her, Lorenzo was directing three Soldati as they dug a hole in the empty plot to the left of my mother's grave.

They didn't see me approach.

Soon, the men had dug a deep pit.

Scarlett knelt down, gently placing the urn inside, her voice catching as she held back tears.

"Rest in peace, Ares."

Rage flooded my veins. I strode forward and slapped her across the face.

"Who gave you permission to use this land?!"

She was startled, her head whipping around, a mixture of shock and hurt on her face.

"I—" she stammered.

My teeth ground together as I slapped her again, harder. "Take that thing and get the hell out of here. Now!"

I rarely lost my composure in public.

My father had paid a fortune for the two empty plots beside my mother—one for me, and one for himself.

It was my mother's last wish, for the three of us to be together forever.

For Scarlett to bury her horse here was an insult to my entire family.

A red handprint bloomed on Scarlett's cheek. She stumbled back against Lorenzo, her eyes instantly welling with tears.

"Enzo, she hit me—" she whimpered.

Lorenzo's face darkened. Clearly, he hadn't expected me to be here.

He took a small step back, putting some distance between himself and Scarlett. "Isabella, calm down. Let me explain."

He reached for me, but Scarlett quickly moved between us.

She looked at him innocently, tears streaming down her swollen cheek. Lorenzo swallowed the reprimand he was about to aim at her.

"Isabella, listen to me. I can explain."

I stared at him coldly.

"Shut up," I snapped. "Make her take that creature's ashes and get out."

Lorenzo sighed. "She meant no harm. She just wanted a resting place for her beloved horse. She promised not to put up a headstone. Maybe we can just—"

"No. Absolutely not." I was shaking with fury. "My mother hated horses, you know that. If that beast is buried here, I swear I will have my father use every resource he has against you."

My voice dropped to a low hiss. "My mother would have never accepted a son-in-law like you. Don't you dare forget how good she was to you when she was alive."

It was the first time I had ever threatened him with my father's name. Lorenzo's expression turned grim.

"Isabella—"

Scarlett suddenly burst into loud sobs.

"I've heard about you, Isabella," she cried. "I understand you're in a bad mood, but we can handle this privately. You don't have to be so aggressive."

She clutched at his arm. "If you just need someone to take it out on, take it out on me. I hate seeing Lorenzo so torn—"

I narrowed my eyes. "You asked for it."

I grabbed her hair and dragged her to the edge of the pit the Soldati had just dug. Then I kicked her hard, forcing her to her knees.

She cried even louder, a pitiful, dramatic display.

I didn't even blink.

"Pick up that urn. Go to my mother's grave. Kneel. Apologize. Or I swear I will slash your face today."

Scarlett trembled. She reached for the urn, then looked up at Lorenzo, her eyes filled with a silent plea.

His face grew even darker.

"That's enough," he snapped. "The urn isn't even in the ground. Making her kneel is going too far."

My heart pounded in my chest.

"I'm too much? There are countless places to bury a pet, so why my mother's cemetery? She is desecrating my family's sacred ground. What do you think she's really trying to do?"

Scarlett cried harder. "Isabella, please don't yell at Lorenzo. I'll kneel."

She started to move, but Lorenzo stopped her, gently taking the urn from her hands. "You don't have to kneel. I'll take you somewhere else to bury Ares."

The two of them turned and walked away, leaving me standing there as if I were the one in the wrong.

I let out a bitter laugh and turned to the Soldati.

"Fill in the hole."

Just then, I caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye.

On the other side of my mother's grave—on the plot I had also purchased—stood a brand-new marble headstone.