Everyone thinks that I can only rely on my husband, Erico Vitale, to survive after I've lost my family's protection.

So, when he wants to get a divorce, I can only agree to it. If he wants to remarry me, I'll accept his demands docilely.

I'm the dog whom the Vitale family can beckon over and easily dismiss on a whim.

But when I finally have had enough of this life, I dial the number that I've kept sealed away for a long time.

That's when I hear Gian Lucenti tell me, "Nina, I'll marry you in ten days."

Well, Erico, what will you do when I, the woman whom you've been treating as a pet this whole time, leave you once and for all?

"Sign it, Nina."

The divorce papers were pushed toward me.

Erico Vitale, heir to the most powerful mafia family in Layshire, stood across from me. He was also my husband of more than three years.

"Joanna needs these papers to convince her papa," he said, his tone as flat as if he were commenting on the weather. "The Rosettis control three docks in Layshire. I need their management rights."

My hands in my robe pockets trembled slightly. This was PTSD—a gift leftover from the massacre of the Livignis four years ago.

"So you're divorcing me… just for a few docks?" I heard myself say.

"For the future of the Vitale family," Erico said, circling the table.

He tilted my chin with his fingers and continued, "Sign it. Once I have the docks, Joanna disappears. You'll always be my wife, Nina."

"And what about these past six months?" I asked, looking into his deep blue eyes. "These past six months, you've taken her to every gala and gotten your photos splashed across newspapers, making all of Layshire think that the title of Mrs. Vitale is going to change hands. Was that all an act?"

"They're necessary measures."

He released my chin and pulled a pen from his suit pocket. "You're smart. I'm sure you understand the stakes."

I took the pen, my fingers shaking so badly I could barely hold it.

"Your tremors have gotten worse," Erico remarked with a frown. "You should see a doctor."

"Every time I see news about you and Joanna, the shaking starts," I said frankly. "Maybe the cure is to make those articles disappear."

He chuckled. "Jealous? How cute."

He leaned in and pressed a kiss on my forehead. "Sign it, honey. I'll give you ten days to move out. Joanna moves in after that."

The moment the pen touched the paper, my hand trembled so violently that the name "Nina Livigni Vitale" came out so crooked it looked as if it were struggling for its last breath.

"Bene."

Erico folded the papers and glanced at his watch. "I have meetings tomorrow. And start dinner without me—Joanna's father has invited me."

His footsteps echoed through the empty mansion.

I sat in the morning light, staring at my shaking fingers. Then, I dug my phone out of my pajama pocket.

That number had been sitting in my phone for years, untouched.

"Gian," I said softly. "I have some bad news."

A deep, calm voice answered, "What is it?"

"I got divorced."

Three seconds of silence passed between us before Gian Lucenti spoke again, saying, "Now that you've told me the good news, what's the bad news?"

I almost laughed at his response.

"Erico gave me ten days to move out of his mansion. Does that count as bad news?"

"Hmm… I still think that's considered good news."

"Gian Lucenti!"

"Alright, alright, no more joking," Gian said, chuckling. "Honestly, when I saw your name on the screen, I thought I was hallucinating from lack of sleep. After all, ever since you married into the Vitale family, you cut off all contact with me completely.

"But I get it. Good women don't call their ex-boyfriends after they get married."

Indeed. Gian Lucenti, the current Don of the Lucenti family—one of the oldest mafia bloodlines in Poralia—was my ex-boyfriend.

We'd been together for five years until my family, the Livignis, was destroyed. That was when I married Erico.

"Nina," Gian interrupted my thoughts. "I'm coming to marry you in ten days."

"What?"

"Ten days," he repeated. "If you're willing."

On the third day, while packing, I found Erico's pocket watch—a family heirloom.

After giving it some thought, I decided to return it to him.

…

The door to the top-floor office at the Vitale Group skyscraper was left slightly ajar, and laughter spilled out.

"Did Nina really agree to the divorce?"

The voice belonged to Marcus Bellandi, Erico's right-hand man.

"Of course," Erico said confidently. "The Livigni family is long gone. Right now, she's just someone clinging to the Vitales for survival. If I want a divorce, she'll sign the papers. If I ask her to marry me again, she'll have no choice but to agree, too. That's the reality."

I froze outside the door, the pocket watch burning in my hands.

"She needs me," he continued. "When I found her among the rubble four years ago, she couldn't even speak in full sentences. I was the one who taught her to talk again, to live again. She can't live without me."

"So after the docks are yours, you'll really ditch Joanna?"

"Of course," Erico said airily. "Joanna's just a spoiled little lady who thinks love conquers all. Once the Rosetti family's value is squeezed dry, she'll learn that there are no fairy tales in the mafia."

The pocket watch slipped from my trembling hands, clattering onto the marble floor.

Erico stepped out when he heard the sound. When he saw that it was me, he didn't bother with any excuses and just asked why I was there.

I didn't answer. I merely turned and left.

That afternoon, I moved back into the old Livigni family apartment in Velorton District. Four years of neglect had left dust everywhere.

But I needed this place. It was the only space I had left that had nothing to do with the Vitales.

At 9:00 pm, the doorbell rang. Erico stood outside the door, a bottle of red wine in hand.

"Not going to invite me in?" he asked, as casually as if nothing had happened.

I stepped aside. He walked into the living room, his brows knitting as he glanced around. "This apartment is too old. I'll send someone to clean it tomorrow—"

"No need," I cut him off. "I like it this way."

He set the wine down and turned to pull me into his arms.

"I'm sorry about this afternoon. But don't worry. You'll always be my wife."

The doorbell rang again.

Erico released me and went to open the door. It was Joanna Rosetti.

"Erico! Nina!"

She walked in, sizing up the apartment as if she owned the place. "Wow, this place has a vintage vibe! I hear the Livignis used to live here?"

"What do you want, Joanna?" I asked.

"Oh, Erico said your lemon tarts are the best in all of Layshire," she said, batting her eyelashes. "I wanted to try them, so he brought me along. You don't mind, right?"

I looked at Erico. Did he think I was his maid?

He shrugged. "Just make them this once. Let her see what she's missing."

In the kitchen, I tried to stay calm while I made the lemon tarts. Erico leaned against the doorframe, watching me, while Joanna sat in the living room flipping through my photo albums.

"She's going through my things," I said to Erico.

"She's just curious," he replied, stepping behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. "Once the tarts are done, we'll leave, okay?"

Just as I was about to slide the tarts into the oven, Joanna wandered into the kitchen. "It smells amazing."

As she approached the oven, she "accidentally" bumped my elbow, and the tray tilted. The tarts fell onto the floor in a sticky, ruined mess.

"Oops!" she exclaimed, covering her mouth. "Mi dispiace, Nina. I didn't mean to!"

I stared at the mess on the floor, at Erico's furrowed brows, and at the flash of smug satisfaction in Joanna's eyes—and I clenched my fists in anger.

Joanna acted like she didn't see any of this. "Oh, well, we can't eat them now. Come on, Erico. We'll go to a restaurant instead."

She tugged Erico toward the door. At the threshold, he glanced back and said, "Get some rest, Nina."

The door clicked shut.

I knelt on the floor and used a cloth to wipe up the sticky lemon curd and shattered crust, but my hands trembled so badly that I could barely hold the cloth properly.

On the sixth day, the Vitales hosted a charity gala, and I attended as the "divorced-but-still-friends" ex-wife.

Joanna walked in, arm linked with Erico, basking in the attention of everyone. She was the star of the evening.

"Nina!"

She walked up to me with a flute of champagne in her hand. "How's the old apartment you moved into? It's so brave of you. I hear old places like that are often haunted."

"The ghosts of the Livignis would only protect their own," I said calmly.

Her smile froze for a split second before growing even brighter. "Erico, listen to how funny Nina is!"

Erico walked over, his hand naturally settling around Joanna's waist.

"Having fun?" he asked.

"So-so," I replied.

"That's good."

He then leaned in close, his voice dropping low. "Senator Malfieri is over there. He has old ties with the Rosettis. I need to bring Joanna over to say hello. Entertain yourself for a bit?"

I gave a soft hum in response.

As they walked off, Joanna glanced back at me. Her eyes were openly taunting, like the look a victor gave the loser.

My hands started trembling. The champagne flute shook violently between my fingers. I needed to find somewhere to sit.

"Nina, your hand!" Joanna suddenly cried out, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Mamma mia! Are you having a seizure or something?"

All eyes turned toward me. The glass slipped from my shaking hand and shattered on the marble floor, causing shards and liquid to spray everywhere. I also bumped into the dessert table next to me, and delicate cakes and the chocolate tower all came crashing to the floor.

Laughter and whispers erupted around the room.

"The Livignis' daughter… Poor thing…"

"Ever since that massacre, she's been…"

"Erico's really been very generous, taking care of her all these years…"

Erico's face darkened. He strode over, but not to me. Instead, he told a nearby server, "Take her to the private room to change."

"Erico," I called.

He stopped, but he didn't turn to look at me. "Go change, Nina. Don't make this any worse."

Joanna slipped her arm through his, leaned in, and whispered something in his ear. Both of them laughed.

I was the only one in the entire hall not smiling.

…

On the ninth day, I texted Erico.

"Tonight, 8:00 pm at the old apartment. We need to talk."

"Okay," he replied.

At 7:30 pm, I got a simple dinner ready. 8:00 pm came, but no Erico. At 8:30 pm, my phone lit up. It was a photo from Joanna, showing Erico drunkenly passed out on a hotel bed, shirt half undone.

"He's tired, and we're about to rest. Know your place, and go somewhere where we don't have to see you, okay?"

I stared at Erico's sleeping profile in the photo, at Joanna's lipstick print on the pillow, and at the trail of discarded clothes on the floor.

My hands didn't shake. In fact, I was unnervingly calm. I deleted the photo and blocked Joanna's number.

She was right. I should know my place and stop bothering them.

At 11:00 pm, the doorknob turned. Erico walked in, tie loose and eyes glossy.

"Nina?"

He spotted my suitcase and frowned. "Where are you going?"

"Away," I said.

He chuckled, staggering forward to pull me into a hug.

"Don't make a fuss… I had too much to drink tonight. Joanna's father finally relented, and the docks will be mine soon…" he said, his breath warm against my neck. "Just hold on a little longer, honey. Everything will go back to normal soon."

"It won't," I replied, pushing him away. "Erico, we're done."

He arched an eyebrow. "Because of Joanna? I told you. She's just—"

"Because you don't respect me," I cut him off. "Because you think I can be shelved indefinitely, used, and humiliated, just because the Livignis are gone, and I have no one else to depend on but you. Because when my hands shake, you ignore it. And when I'm mocked, you stand with the people laughing at me."

He stared at me. The drunken haze in his eyes cleared slowly, replaced by something cold and hard.

"So, you're really going to leave the Vitale family?" he asked. "Do you know what that means? Without my protection, those who want the Livigni line wiped out for good—"

"Let them come," I cut in, zipping my suitcase. "At least I'll die standing. At least I won't be living on my knees."

We stared at each other in silence.

Finally, Erico laughed—mocking and indignant. "You won't get far, Nina. Without me, you have nothing."

"Alright," I said, dragging the suitcase. "We'll just see, then."