I had been married to Lorenzo Falcone for five years, and in those five years, it seemed like every few days, a new woman was paraded through the doors of the Falcone estate.

Each time, I would listen to the sounds of their passion filling the next room, marking it down in my memo.

Five years and ninety-eight times.

Today, it was a fresh-faced girl from some lesser household, delicate and young.

Once they were done, Lorenzo called for me to come in and clean up.

Bianca Costa lay lazily in his arms, a teasing smile playing on her lips as she spoke, "Lorenzo, is this the old, ugly wife you mentioned? The one your capos made you take? The one who can't even stir the slightest bit of desire?"

Lorenzo idly ran his fingers through Bianca's hair, offering nothing more than a dismissive grunt.

Bianca tossed the silk aside, her skin marked with fresh hickeys, her grin wide. "See? This is how a man reacts to a young, beautiful woman. As a woman, you really failed."

I stayed silent, my gaze fixed on the floor, as I quietly cleaned up the mess.

Their laughter echoed through the room, a cruel reminder of the silence that surrounded me.

Once I retreated to my room, I pulled the dissolution papers from the safe, the ones no consigliere had yet stamped.

Five years had passed, and in all that time, it felt as though I had forgotten Lorenzo and I were only bound by a pact between houses.

One week. Just one more week and the alliance would be severed for good.

——

The next morning, I woke early, as I always did.

Lorenzo had already called me three times, demanding breakfast be brought to his room.

Without a second thought, I refused.

"Don't you have hands or feet? Should I feed you bite by bite?"

I ended the call just as Lorenzo stormed into the room, his finger jabbing at me.

"Adriana, who are you throwing a tantrum at? Don't forget whose house you're in and who you're talking to!"

I didn't respond. Instead, I lifted my eyes to meet his, studying the face I'd once known so well, the face I had loved.

I knew he had never loved me, but the sting came from realizing that, for five years, he had never truly seen me as a part of his life.

Finally, I lowered my gaze, my voice soft but firm. "I'll leave this house sooner or later."

His anger flared, his voice rising. "Leave this house? You've lived off Falcone money all this time. How will you survive when you're gone? Not a single channel in this territory would touch you without my say."

Before I could reply, Bianca's voice cut through the tension, lazy and dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh, the old woman's throwing a tantrum again? What's wrong? Getting old and can't bear seeing Lorenzo with younger, prettier women?"

"If it bothers you so much, why don't you just strip off your clothes and crawl into Lorenzo's bed? But—"

She laughed, the sound sharp and mocking, one hand drifting to her collarbone as though checking her jewels were still in place. "With that face, no man would even blink."

I slammed the spoon down onto the table, the sound sharp and sudden, like a match sparking something deep inside me.

Lorenzo, who had been standing nearby, scoffed.

"Did Bianca say something wrong? Are you throwing another tantrum?"

I pressed my lips together, silently clearing away the half-eaten breakfast before heading toward the kitchen. Under the table, my thumb found the plain silver band on my right hand and pressed it once, hard.

Bianca's triumphant voice floated from the dining room. "This is too good. Just stay obedient and play your part as the old housewife."

"Enough, stop talking."

Lorenzo's tone was scolding, but I could hear the underlying indulgence in his words.

I stared at the faucet, my thoughts drifting like a fog, so much so that I almost let the water overflow.

Then, a hand reached from behind and turned off the faucet.

"What are you lost in?"

The voice was too close, and when I turned, I found myself trapped in Lorenzo's intense, unreadable gaze.

I lowered my head again, focusing on the dishes in front of me.

"It's nothing. I was just thinking about what comes next after the alliance is dissolved."

"Dissolved?" Lorenzo's voice was laced with amusement as if I'd just told him a joke. His thumb rolled the wedding band down to his knuckle and back. "You've been with me since before I took the ring, playing the dutiful housewife for five years. You've been cut off from the world, from every Family in this city. After we part ways, what will you even do?"

"Housekeeper? Or just a maid cleaning up after everyone else?"

Those words, sharp and cruel, echoed in my mind, a refrain I had grown all too familiar with within these walls of the Falcone estate.

At first, they stung, cutting through me like a sharp blade. I found myself questioning, doubting if I really was as worthless as they painted me to be.

But five years ago, I was just as young and radiant as Bianca.

Five years ago, my world had shattered. In an instant, my parents were ripped from me in a tragic accident, leaving only me and my ten-year-old brother, Matteo, battling leukemia.

Desperation had taken root in me, and there was no choice but to leave everything behind. I took whatever work I could find, anything to afford his treatment.

The quickest way to earn the money the doctors demanded? A back-room club run by men who owned half the docks, where I ended up serving drinks and worse to the kind of men no honest girl was meant to know.

When one of them humiliated me, a bottle crashing into my forehead, I thought I'd reached the bottom.

But then, a hand reached down from the darkness, pulling me out.

That was the first time I met Lorenzo.

He had appeared like an angel in my life, lifting me from the flames of my misery.

And in that moment, he offered me a lifeline, an unexpected pact between us.

Five million in clean cash in exchange for five years of my life.

I agreed.

He said he needed a wife to quiet the elder capos and their expectations, someone with no name the Feds could touch, and that he didn't want me seen in public often, only allowing me past the gates twice a week.

I agreed.

So, I spent those five years almost entirely inside this grand estate, behind its walls and its watchful men.

As for Lorenzo, I thought I loved him. I accepted this "imprisonment," and, oddly, I even found a strange comfort in it.

I truly believed I could be his wife forever.

But he never touched me, never allowed me into his inner world.

Then, one day, when he was away on Family business, I couldn't fight the temptation any longer. I slipped into his private rooms, and that's when the truth hit me like a slap in the face.

Lorenzo had always kept a woman.

Bianca.

A daughter of the lesser Costa household, five years younger than me.

I had long grown numb to Lorenzo's endless parade of women. To me, they were nothing more than fleeting distractions, mere tools to satisfy his desires. And I, in my quiet submission, held onto the title of the heir's wife as if it were a badge of honor.

But yesterday changed everything. The moment I saw Bianca stroll into those rooms, the ones I had never been allowed to set foot in for five years, it hit me like a jolt of electricity. I finally understood. It was time to leave.

"Adriana?" Lorenzo's voice sliced through my thoughts, thick with impatience. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

"You called me useless, right?" I replied coolly, turning to face him. My right hand found the plain silver band, and I pressed it once, hard, before my face went smooth again. "Maybe it's time I find work. A housekeeper, a maid," I paused, locking eyes with him. "Five years. I haven't broken any law, haven't broken Omertà, haven't given anyone reason to touch me. Should I just waste away here forever?"

Lorenzo opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Bianca stepped out, sliding into a pristine, brand-new couture gown. It was the same gown Lorenzo had kept locked away, never worn, waiting for the right moment. And now it was on Bianca.

"I didn't expect you to know my size so well," she purred, twirling in front of him. The fabric swirled gracefully around her, her smile arriving a half-second late but gleaming. "Do you think it looks good?"

Lorenzo took Bianca's hand, his usual indifference replaced by something soft, almost affectionate.

"They look amazing," he said, nodding. "As long as you love them, I'll buy you anything."

And then, right there in front of me, they kissed.

Bianca, her cheeks tinged with a hint of shyness, reluctantly pulled away from Lorenzo. "There are others here..." she murmured, her eyes briefly flickering to me. "Do you think the gown Lorenzo chose for me looks good?"

The gown clung to Bianca's form, a shimmering fabric that wrapped around her like it had been made for her, luxurious, radiant, and perfectly suited to her youthful charm.

I nodded; my voice was soft yet genuine as I met her gaze.

"They're stunning."

Bianca froze, momentarily caught off guard by my words. She stood there in the borrowed couture, her gaze flickering as if weighing my intent, one manicured hand drifting up to touch her collarbone.

Lorenzo’s brows furrowed, though his expression remained as unreadable as the man who’d ordered blood spilled over dinner and never lost his appetite.

Seizing the chance, I silently slipped away from the kitchen, feeling a sense of liberation with each step I took across the marble.

The dissolution of the alliance would take effect in a week, and I had only that precious time to pack my life and leave this house behind, before the Falcone name could reach me again.

Back in the bedroom, I scrolled through rental listings on my phone, absorbed in my thoughts, when Lorenzo’s voice cut through the air.

"I need to see to some business for the Family. Bianca stays here, so you’ll take care of her."

I raised an eyebrow, the confusion creeping into my tone. "Am I now a housekeeper? Is she so helpless that she needs me to babysit her?"

I had always bowed to his commands without a second thought, the way every soul under this roof learned to. But today, something had shifted in me. I found myself questioning him, challenging his authority with every word.

His face darkened, his voice dropping low and menacing, the way a man’s does when he’s used to that alone being enough. "Adriana, don’t forget who’s been keeping you. You’re here because of me, and you’ll do as I say. Don’t push me."

I swallowed the bitter taste of my pride, nodding with reluctant compliance, the weight of his words pressing heavily on my chest.

Before leaving, Lorenzo issued one last warning, his voice low and edged with authority. "Bianca’s young. You’re responsible for her while I’m gone. If anything happens, don’t think I’ll let you off easy."

With those words lingering in the air, Lorenzo leaned down to kiss Bianca’s forehead, a tender, possessive gesture that marked her as his before every eye in the house, then strode out. The sound of the door clicking shut reverberated in the silence like a bolt thrown home.

Now, with only Bianca and me left in the sitting room, the atmosphere shifted. She slouched against the sofa, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips, arriving a half-second too late to be real.

"I heard you’ve been married to Lorenzo for five years," she said, her voice thick with amusement.

"Yes," I replied, my tone calm and measured, betraying nothing of the storm brewing inside me.

"But last night, he told me he’s never touched you!" Bianca’s posture shifted as she tossed her hair back, revealing the dark mark on her neck. "You must be twenty-six by now, still a virgin…" Her words hung in the air, sharp and probing.

She giggled, swaying gracefully like a delicate flower, before continuing, "You must’ve heard us last night, right? Lorenzo is such a tease. He made sure you could hear everything from the next room. Oh, and I almost forgot, you’ve never experienced a man, have you? Especially someone as strong as Lorenzo."

Her laughter was almost too much to bear. "What a shame. At your age, I doubt anyone would touch you, except for maybe you chasing after them, right?"

I furrowed my brows, disbelief creeping into my thoughts. I hadn’t expected the heir’s kept woman to speak with such venom.

Calmly, I answered, "Everyone lives their life differently. I don’t base my existence on any man."

Bianca’s laughter stopped abruptly, replaced by a sneer. "A woman who’s been living off a man, playing housewife for five years, probably has no room to talk, huh?"

I chose not to engage further, sitting down on the opposite end of the sofa as I continued my search for a place to rent.

Bianca couldn’t stand the sight of me remaining so calm and composed. It didn’t take long for her to start pushing my buttons, trying to boss me around as if the Costa blood in her veins outranked the servants in this house.

The last time, she complained that the coffee I made was too cold and demanded I pour boiling water to fix it. Then, with the slyest of smiles, she pretended to spill it. Most of the water splashed onto me while just a few drops landed on her wrist.

Her cry echoed through the room, sharp and dramatic, pitched for an audience that wasn’t there yet.

"Lorenzo, it hurts so much..."

By the time Lorenzo rushed in, his face twisted in alarm, Bianca was already in full meltdown mode.

She showed him the small burn on her wrist, and he fussed over it for a moment before turning to me, his anger flaring.

With a forceful slap, he sent me crashing to the ground. The band on my right hand pressed hard into the marble beneath my palm.

"Didn’t I tell you to take care of Bianca? Is this how you do it?!"

His voice was cold with fury. "If even the smallest mark appears on her, I’ll make sure you suffer ten times worse."

Without another word, Lorenzo grabbed Bianca and swept her off to be seen to, leaving me kneeling on the floor.

I lifted the hem of my nightgown, the red welts on my thighs already burning with the sting of the water. In the silence he left behind, I turned the plain silver band on my right hand once, pressed it hard, and let my face go smooth again.