Forced To Kneel, I Went All Out

Everyone in New York knew that Don Lorenzo Capone loved his wife dearly.

At the height of our love, he shielded me from a bullet that went straight through his chest.

The hospital issued eleven critical condition notices.

I cried myself hoarse at the door of the emergency room.

"Lorenzo, don't you dare die on me, or I'll instantly find a pretty boy to marry and have children with!"

He survived the ordeal, and the first thing he did when he opened his eyes was to marry me.

After the marriage, he ruled over New York's largest underground empire with an iron fist, but never allowed any woman to get close to him.

On our third wedding anniversary, I went to his private dock to give him a surprise.

There, I saw him holding a pair of twins, teaching them how to shoot. The man who could kill without batting an eye was looking at the children with eyes full of affection.

The children's mother was Elena Tribbiani, the daughter of an arms dealer who was his equal.

"Lorenzo, what if Vivian finds out?"

Lorenzo dismissed it casually. "A fragile porcelain doll like her is only fit to be displayed in a glass case. Only a she-wolf like you is worthy of bearing my family's cubs."

It turned out, what I thought was true love was merely a carefully-woven lie.

I did not confront him. Instead, I sent a text message to an FBI special agent.

"Agent Smith, I have a list of the arms deal you’re investigating."

I put away my phone, and that painful scene came right back into my view.

Lorenzo, who had sworn to stay half a meter away from other women at all times to give me a sense of security, now had his arm wrapped around Elena's waist.

His fingers tightened, creating a flush of desire on his nails.

I shook like a leaf, trying to keep it together as I asked, "Lorenzo, what are you doing?"

Hearing my voice, Lorenzo's body stiffened, but he didn't panic like I expected.

Instead, he subconsciously took a step to his right, shielding Elena and the two kids behind him.

I squeezed the cake box in my hand so hard it crumpled.

Cream overflowed, getting all over my freshly done nails, sticky and gross.

Lorenzo approached with a frown, his tone laced with impatience.

"Vivian, what are you doing here?"

In his eyes, I was merely some delicate ornament that needed to be kept safe and sound, away from all the dirt.

Even when he was caught red-handed, he still acted like he did nothing wrong.

I looked at the woman behind him.

Elena, decked out in camo gear, looked at me defiantly while toying with a Browning gun.

The little girl in her arm bore an uncanny resemblance to Lorenzo.

"So this is why you insist on not having kids? You told me it's because you don't want to see me in pain!" I pointed at the two children, my voice sharp to the point of sounding unfamiliar.

Lorenzo's expression darkened; he did not like it when I disobeyed him.

"Vivian, you’re too delicate. If you get pregnant, the pain might kill you. Elena is different. She’s trained, so she can handle it."

What a load of self-serving crap.

Elena sauntered over. Her finger that had just pulled the trigger contemptuously brushed against my cheek, her nails scraping painfully.

"Lorenzo's right, Vivian. You can’t even handle the recoil of a gun, how can you give birth to the Don’s heir? Go home and tend to your flowers. This is a man’s battlefield; it's no place for you."

She grinned like a Cheshire cat, not even trying to hide the scorn in her eyes.

I looked at Lorenzo, hoping he would say something, anything.

Hoping he would stick up for me.

But all he did was wave over the bodyguard and instruct him coldly, "Take the missus home and keep an eye on her. Don’t let her run off and act crazy again. She's scaring Leo and Mia."

My heart sank.

It turned out that between me and those illegitimate kids, I was the one who needed to be kept away, like I'm some outsider.

The bodyguard shoved me into a car.

Through the window, I saw Lorenzo leaning down to kiss Elena on the forehead, his expression all tender and sweet. I used to think that expression was exclusively mine.

Back in the fancy mansion, I looked around at all the Hermès bags and jewelry.

I used to think this was love, but now it just seemed like a luxurious birdcage, designed specifically to confine me, a pretty little canary who was good for nothing but looking nice.

Lorenzo came home late that night, his clothes heavy with the scent of gunpowder mixed with Elena's favorite strong perfume.

Before, I would have run him a bath and asked if he was tired, but today, I sat in the dark living room. In front of me were the divorce papers I drafted.

The lights came on. When Lorenzo saw me, he frowned again.

"Why aren’t you asleep? What are you doing here, sitting in the dark?"

He casually tossed his coat on the couch and tugged at his tie, looking exhausted.

I did not answer him. Instead, I slid the divorce papers over to him and said, "Lorenzo, let’s get a divorce."