I was on my way back to the De Luca estate for our anniversary dinner, the backseat piled with gifts I had chosen for my husband, when a speeding armored convoy—a transport used by one of the rival clans—swerved off protocol and slammed into my car with enough force to fold the metal like paper.

By the time the first responders from the Syndicate’s emergency corps dragged me from the twisted wreckage, I was bleeding through my clothes and barely conscious. They rushed me into a private ambulance, shouting commands over the wail of sirens and the crackle of radios coordinating security.

When the paramedic asked whether they should notify my husband, the words lodged like glass in my throat. My vision blurred as I whispered a lie—“I’m divorced. There’s no one to call.”

I couldn’t bear to let strangers know the truth:

That my own husband—Don Adrian De Luca, heir to one of the most feared mafia bloodlines in the nation—had ignored every one of my desperate calls.

They brought me in for emergency surgery, fighting to keep me alive. Hours later, when I surfaced from anesthesia, Syndicate-certified doctors stood at my bedside with faces carved from grief.

“Madam… we did everything we could,” one said quietly. “Your baby didn’t survive. The trauma was severe. If extraction teams had reached you sooner, we might have prevented the suffocation. If your… husband had answered your calls, we could’ve intervened earlier.”

Their words sliced deeper than any bullet wound. My chest tightened until breathing felt impossible.

Three days passed—three days of silence, medication, and misery.

Adrian never appeared.

Not even a single message.

When I was finally cleared to go home, I unlocked my phone—intending to tell him what happened—only for a notification from my mother-in-law’s social feed to stop me cold.

The photo froze my blood.

Adrian—my husband—was standing at a gala beside Veronica Santori, the woman he had once sworn he’d cut out of his life. His arm was wrapped around her waist, his gaze warm and tender in ways he had never shown me.

The caption from his mother read:

“They would have been the perfect couple. She should have been my daughter-in-law—if only my son hadn’t been stolen by some gutter-raised nobody.”

The humiliation burned straight through me.

And the event they were attending?

A closed-door gathering at the Syndicate Palace—the headquarters of the nationwide mafia council.

My birthright.

The home of my real parents—the reigning Mafia King and Queen—

a truth Adrian and his entire family had never known.

Before the accident, I had raced home excitedly, eager for the candlelit dinner I prepared. Light dishes, seafood, everything he preferred—even though handling the ingredients alone made my skin blister from allergy.

But the moment my car flipped from the impact, panic seized me. My hands were sliced open as I shielded my stomach, and I dialed Adrian again and again…

twenty-three calls unanswered.

Instead, I received two cold, dismissive messages:

[Adrian: Stop pestering me. I’m not coming home. If you can’t be useful, at least spare me the drama.]

[Adrian: Cancel the anniversary dinner.]

When the rescuers finally reached me, I was drifting in and out of consciousness.

“Massive blood loss,” someone shouted. “Start prepping the OR—now.”

“We can’t—you heard her, she’s pregnant—”

“My… baby…” I tried to speak, choking on blood and pain.

“Ma’am, we need your husband’s consent—”

“Divorced,” I gasped. “Just save my child. Please… save my child…”

The machines, the voices, the lights—everything blurred into a distant storm.

When I woke again, a doctor with weary eyes delivered the news that ripped my soul apart.

“Your child didn’t make it, ma’am. We saw your call logs. You tried to reach your husband over and over… but without getting you out sooner, the baby suffocated.”

The world tilted violently.

“My baby… my baby is gone?”

My sobs tore from me uncontrollably.

Across the three days I stayed in the hospital—three days where I hovered alone between rage and grief—Adrian never checked on me.

Not a single message.

Not even a missed call.

And then—that post.

A photo of Adrian and his mother dining in my favorite Syndicate-protected restaurant.

Another of him holding Veronica close as they posed in front of the Syndicate Palace—my parents’ domain.

His arm around her.

His smile soft.

His betrayal complete.

The comments were vicious:

[Still the hottest pair from the academy! Didn’t think you two were still this close—congrats!]

[Veronica will always be his real partner. Not that useless nobody he ended up with.]

[She’s the only one who belongs beside Adrian.]

[Your future kids would be gorgeous!]

Most commenters were from Adrian and Veronica’s tight-knit circle from their mafia academy days—four men and one woman bonded by blood pacts and shared training. They all knew he was married to me, yet I had never belonged to their circle.

Veronica and Adrian had been inseparable once—the golden couple of their generation—before she left him for a more influential foreign syndicate boss. When that man turned out to be a violent brute who later discarded her, the entire community pitied her.

Everyone except me.

I became the villain.

The nobody who “stole” Adrian.

The intruder who ruined their fairy tale.

When I married Adrian, I worked hard to be accepted. My father—the Mafia King—hated letting me lift a finger, but I secretly learned to cook because Adrian couldn’t handle heavy meals.

I burned myself repeatedly.

Handled ingredients I was allergic to until rashes crawled up my arms.

Pushed myself to exhaustion because he insisted I prove my worth to his friends.

They mocked me behind my back anyway.

Called me a leech.

An orphan trying to claw her way up the syndicate ladder.

Their favorite nickname: “the witch.”

Whenever they visited, they thrust lists of dishes at me like I was their servant. I refused at first—until Adrian pressured me to obey, insisting it was only right that I “pull my weight” in the household.

So I cooked.

Every. Single. Time.

And now, after everything I had done…

after losing our child alone in a wrecked car…

Adrian still chose them.

Chose her.

Maybe it was better this way.

Maybe now I wouldn’t feel tempted to forgive him ever again.

With trembling fingers, I tapped on my mother-in-law’s cruel post and left one comment—one meant for Adrian to see the moment he glanced at his phone:

[They look perfect together.]

The comment section froze the moment my notification chimed—Adrian was calling.

His voice came through irritated, but kept under tight control, the way mafia heirs were trained to sound even when angry.

“Bella, you shouldn’t take my friends’ banter seriously. They were only teasing when they joked around with Veronica and me. Your remark embarrassed them. I get that you’re upset after seeing that post, but please understand—you’ve disappointed my mother again. She expected us to show up together at the Syndicate Gala, and you vanished without explanation. And yes, I missed our anniversary dinner, but unlike you, I actually have operations to oversee. You can’t keep acting out every time you get emotional.”

I stayed silent.

My silence unsettled him—Adrian wasn’t used to being ignored.

“Bella? Why aren’t you saying anything? When you get home, we need to settle this. You should apologize to my mother as soon as possible.”

“…Alright.”

The word scraped out of me like broken glass. I swallowed down the storm of emotions clawing up my throat.

The man whose neglect cost me my child was demanding that I apologize.

“Bella… why aren’t you asking about me? About how I’m doing?”

“There’s no need,” I murmured. “I already know everything I need to know.”

Before he could respond, I hung up, and the dam finally broke—sobs shaking me so hard it felt like grief itself was tearing through my ribs.

My parents—the Mafia King and Queen—had never trusted Adrian. But when they realized how deeply I loved him, they let me choose my own fate.

What a catastrophic choice it turned out to be.

I hailed a taxi and returned to the De Luca estate. Dawn was just breaking when Adrian finally stumbled in, reeking of expensive liquor and smoke from Syndicate lounges. The sound of his uneven steps woke me. He froze when he saw I was awake, scrambling for an excuse he hoped I’d accept.

Wary I might scold him for coming home drunk, he attempted to turn the blame on me.

“Bella… why weren’t you home these past three days?”

I turned my back to him.

“Oh, so now you’re pretending to be angry with me?” he asked, his voice softer, almost cajoling. “No warm soup tonight?”

“I’m exhausted,” I replied coolly.

Startled by my indifference, he sighed and tugged the duvet over me, as if that could erase the widening gulf between us.

“You should take better care of yourself. The baby will inherit my position one day. You need to rest.”

But as he sat beside me, a strong fruity perfume clung to him—Veronica’s signature scent, something every mafia socialite recognized instantly.

My stomach twisted.

Unable to bear it, I stood up, grabbed a pillow and blanket, and headed for the door, tears slipping silently down my cheeks.

“Bella?”

“I can’t sleep here,” I whispered.

I shut the door behind me, leaving him staring at the empty space beside him—confused, but not enough to chase after me.

The next morning, I left for work before he even woke.

During the staff meeting at the syndicate-affiliated corporation I worked for, my boss reviewed assignments.

“This next project is demanding. It’ll require overtime. Comes with a larger budget and a significant bonus. Anyone interested?”

“I’ll take it.”

Several colleagues stared at me, stunned.

My boss hesitated.

“Bella… what about your husband? And… you’re pregnant. We assumed—”

“I’m not expecting anymore,” I said calmly. “I had a miscarriage. So there’s no need for leave.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. The meeting ended almost immediately afterward.

My boss dismissed the others but asked me to stay.

“Bella… I hope I’m not overstepping, but is everything okay at home?”

She folded her hands, choosing her words with care—as one does when speaking about mafia families.

“You’re one of my best. I’ve been wanting to recommend you for promotion for months, but I thought you wouldn’t want to be assigned far from the De Luca territory. But… if it’s something you’d consider, I can transfer you to headquarters in the capital.”

I gave her a gentle, polite smile.

“Thank you. I’d be happy to move.”

She blinked, surprised at my swift decision.

Then her expression turned hesitant again.

“Actually… my husband was at Southwest Bar last night. He overheard Don Adrian talking with his friends.”

My breath stilled. “What did he say?”

“He… talked about the baby. He said that since you’re an orphan, you probably don’t know how to raise a child properly. He asked one of his friends—Veronica—to help him raise the baby.”

Her voice softened. “I’m sorry, Bella. But I would want to know.”

Ice water poured through my veins.

So that’s what he really thought of me.

I forced a trembling smile. “Thank you.”

Just then my phone rang—Adrian again.

“Bella, did you leave early? You shouldn’t push yourself. You’re already well into your second trimester. Didn’t I tell you to quit your job? Also… when I woke up, breakfast wasn’t prepared. Are you eating at all?”

There was concern in his tone, yes—

but it was smothered under irritation, entitlement, and expectation.

I made a noncommittal sound.

He continued, barely pausing:

“Even though I missed our dinner, I got you something.”

“Did you?” I asked flatly.

“You like heart-shaped diamond jewelry, right? I bought a pendant for you. Strange… I can’t seem to find it.”

I heard shuffling, a quiet curse, more fumbling.

“It’s not here…”

Then silence.

Then realization.

I didn’t need to say anything—he already knew I had seen the photo.

Veronica wearing a heart-shaped diamond pendant.

The same pendant he claimed he bought for me.

He cleared his throat.

“I must’ve misplaced it.”

“No need,” I replied. “I didn’t get you anything either.”

“Bella, this attitude… since you can’t do much around the estate, I at least expect you to manage the house, cook properly, and look presentable. Stop acting like this is something huge.”

“You’re right. It was never important,” I whispered, tears sliding down my cheeks.

He had bought me a gift.

He just let his childhood sweetheart wear it first.

“I guess I can’t ever meet your expectations,” I said quietly. “And Adrian? My favorite stones have always been sapphires. I’ve never worn diamonds in my life.”

I ended the call before he could speak.

After that day, I drowned myself in work so thoroughly that I barely set foot inside the De Luca estate. My absence dragged on long enough for Adrian to finally sense that something was off.

Then one afternoon, my phone lit up with a call from my mother-in-law—

a woman who had always viewed me as gutter trash, an orphan far below their Syndicate rank.

“Bella,” she snapped immediately, skipping greetings as usual. “Adrian told me you picked a fight with him. And from what I heard, you’re the one who ruined our schedule at the Royal Syndicate Banquet. Yes, you grew up without refinement or proper upbringing, but the least you can do is avoid dragging my family’s name through the mud.”

She didn’t pause before continuing sharply,

“You’ll soon be giving birth to the future Don of this family, so stop acting irrationally. People are already whispering that you and Adrian are falling apart. I have arranged a dinner tonight with Adrian’s closest associates. You will arrive with him. On time. And you better not embarrass us.”

She hung up like a general dismissing an underling.

I stared at the blank screen.

If I was leaving for the Syndicate’s capital branch soon, I wanted to look these people in the eye one last time—the ones who betrayed me, humiliated me, and treated me worse than a stray brought in from the street.

I took a taxi to the family residence.

Inside the dining hall, Adrian’s mother sat at the head of the long table, radiating the cold authority of a matriarch who believed she controlled everyone in the room.

The moment I entered, the low chatter died. Adrian’s friends exchanged disdainful looks.

“Aunt, why even invite her?” one of them muttered loudly. “She’ll just ruin the atmosphere again.”

“The witch shows up uninvited to break up the happy couple,” another added with a smirk, ensuring I heard every word.

“Bella, sit here,” Adrian’s mother ordered, pointing to the seat beside her.

I ignored her completely and sat at the far end.

Theodore, Adrian’s closest friend, immediately smirked—he had been waiting for a chance to strike.

“Bella, what was your surname again? Oh, right. My mistake. You don’t have one. Hard to remember something that never existed.”

I lifted my gaze, face expressionless, voice colder than steel.

“And remind me—who exactly are you supposed to be?”

My stare made him recoil as if slapped. The room fell silent.

A few minutes later, Adrian walked in with Veronica by his side.

He startled when he saw me sitting there early. His posture stiffened, and he subtly stepped away from her, pretending nothing was wrong.

I noticed Veronica had removed the diamond pendant—the one Adrian pretended he bought for me.

Adrian’s mother beckoned me to the kitchen. I followed without a word.

When I returned, Adrian hurried over to me, pasting on the kind of fake smile used to placate the Syndicate elders. He brushed my hair aside and—making sure everyone was watching—fastened a diamond pendant around my neck with exaggerated gentleness.

“This must be your first diamond,” he murmured loudly. “Next time, I’ll get you sapphires. I know they’re your favorite.”

He continued smoothly, still lying,

“I must’ve dropped the pendant back at the estate. The moment I realized it was missing, I rushed everywhere looking for it.”

The pendant felt suffocating.

I removed it silently and placed it on the table.

Adrian’s expression darkened instantly.

“Bella, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I knew it,” one woman whispered loudly. “She’s so ungrateful she can’t even accept a simple gift.”

Adrian’s mother glared at me. “Why did you take it off?”

“It was too tight,” I said flatly, ignoring the snickers and murmurs.

None of them knew—or cared enough to remember—that diamonds in our Syndicate tradition were symbols of disgrace.

They were given to exiled members stripped of their rank before being cast out.

I wasn’t exiled.

I was simply preparing to walk away.

From the kitchen doorway, I heard my mother-in-law’s sweetened voice as she laughed with Veronica, who clung to her arm like a perfect goddaughter.

“Auntie, you shouldn’t be working alone,” Veronica cooed. “If I had been here, I’d never have let you handle everything yourself.”

“This girl!” the matriarch chuckled. “Of course things would’ve been different if it were you.”

Then her voice sharpened.

“Oh—Veronica, let Bella help the staff with the dishes. You mustn’t get your hands dirty. Bella grew up doing manual labor. Scrubbing floors and washing plates is normal for her. Don’t you dare ruin those pretty hands of yours.”

My nails dug into my palm.

Adrian said nothing—worse, he looked approving—as if ordering his wife to scrub dishes in front of guests was perfectly reasonable.

When they returned to the dining hall, Veronica slipped neatly between Adrian and his mother, claiming her place as if she belonged there.

“Auntie, I’ve missed you these past years. Not a day went by that I didn’t miss Adrian,” she said theatrically.

Not one person flinched.

Not one questioned why a woman engaged to another man was openly professing her longing for Adrian in front of his wife.

“If things hadn’t gone wrong,” Adrian’s mother said lightly, “you’d already be my daughter-in-law.”

She glanced at me, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes, before pulling Veronica closer.

Adrian stayed silent—still angry I had rejected the pendant.

Then the matriarch turned to me with fake innocence.

“Oh dear, I must be rambling. Bella, this is Veronica—my goddaughter. I heard you’ve been making trouble at home because of her, but really, Veronica is like a sister to Adrian. You mustn’t be jealous. These two have always been close.”

“Auntie’s right,” Colin chimed in smugly. If anyone pushed the idea of a perfect match between Adrian and Veronica, it was him. He was also the one who started calling me the ‘homewrecker.’

“Bella, you keep guarding Adrian like he’s going to run away. Do you really think any of us would sabotage him? Veronica and Adrian are practically inseparable. If he wanted to dump you, he would’ve done it already.”

He leaned back confidently.

“Besides, Adrian already promised Veronica that our syndicates would unite and expand our territories. You should learn to cooperate. It’s the least you can do as the Don’s wife.”

My breath caught.

Unifying our Onyx Serpent Syndicate with another clan?

A massive political move.

And as the Don’s wife, I was kept in the dark.

Colin realized too late that he had said the quiet part out loud.

Silence swept through the room, tension crackling as uneasy glances flickered among them.