I watched as Matteo walked into the convenience store and began picking out tampons with practiced ease.

Sofia suddenly stepped closer to me and said in a tone laced with provocation, "Ms. Russo, you'll never understand the bond between Matteo and me. He understands what my dancing truly means, and I understand the burdens he carries.

"All you have is money, whereas what Matteo and I share on a spiritual level is something you could never reach."

She held her head high smugly. "We started from different places. I don't have a mafia father as you do, nor a powerful family to back me up. But my heart is sincere and burning with passion. When Matteo married you back then, it was only because you forced and manipulated him into it.

"The person he truly loves has never been you. If we had met just a few years earlier, there would've been no place for you in his life. And he wouldn't be like he is now—seemingly radiant on the outside, yet lonely and hopeless within."

Matteo lonely and hopeless?

When I first met Matteo at 18, he was working five different jobs and perpetually run-down from the grueling hours.

But he would barely get his hands on his earnings before his gambler of a father would snatch them away. The staggering gambling debts also fell, one after another, onto his shoulders.

It was precisely at this time that I first met Matteo.

Dressed in rags and gaunt to the bone, he was begging a restaurant owner for work in the bitter cold of winter. For some reason, I followed him after he was turned away, all the way to the shelter under the bridge.

As I watched him sit in the corner and at his beautiful but hollow, lifeless eyes, I felt a pang of heartache for the first time. I didn't understand what pity was. I only knew how much I loved those eyes of his, and that everything he lacked, I happened to have in abundance.

And so, just like that, I pulled him out of the gutter.

I forced him to accept my kindness, to look up and meet my gaze, and to return to school and finish the education he had been compelled to abandon.

Later, everyone in the Verdian mafia circles knew I had coerced a down-and-out man from the lowest rungs of society to marry me.

It wasn't until I personally molded Matteo into a formidable legend within those same circles that the narrative shifted, and people began to envy my good fortune once more.

Yet, no one knew that every bit of feeling I invested had nothing to do with luck.

"He's his own person, a man who stands tall in his own right—not your accessory."

Soffia's incessant chatter kept buzzing in my ears, and my hand began to itch uncontrollably again.

But when I saw Matteo hurrying back and Sofia deliberately trying to provoke me, I changed my mind in an instant.

"Yeah, you're right. He's indeed a man, but he is my man—not yours. If you want him to be yours, you'll have to ask for my permission first. And more importantly, you'll have to ask him whether he's willing to betray his family and become an outcast all for your sake."

My voice was steady and firm, just loud enough for Matteo to hear as he approached. His steps didn't falter in the slightest.

"Elena, you've misunderstood. I only see Sofia as a sister. You shouldn't spout nonsense like this, as it could harm her reputation. And you also shouldn't believe every rumor you hear."

Sofia's eyes dimmed instantly, her reddened rim highlighting the resentment she felt inside.

I should have felt a rush of satisfaction, yet I couldn't summon any joy.

"Go ahead to the auction first. I'll take Sofia home and join you later," Matteo added.

Sofia leaned into Matteo, and he didn't pull away. Instead, he caught her as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

I watched silently as Matteo scooped Sofia up in his arms and settled her into the car seat. Then, he got ready to leave.

Just as the car was about to pull away, Matteo said, "Since you think the car is dirty, take a cab there yourself. I'll go with you to pick out a new car another time."

I couldn't help but recall that when I was 18, Matteo had looked at me with the same hollow, unresponsive gaze, never once saying no.

My love breathed life into him and, more than that, endowed him with the formidable bearing of a mafia man.

He always indulged my whims. Even after rising in the family ranks, he still placed my needs above all else.

Yet now, he had placed Sofia's needs before mine.

I watched calmly as the car carrying them slowly drove away from me, leaving me with nothing more to say. Refusing to let them disrupt my plans, I attended the auction as scheduled.

To be honest, I never cared much for auctions. If I wanted something, it would be brought to me without effort.

But Matteo loved them. He loved the thrill of bidding extravagantly, the admiration and praise others showered on him. Thus, choosing the auction for our anniversary was all an attempt to please him.

I never expected him to feel indebted or grateful, for I just wanted to give him a better life.

But by the time the auction ended, Matteo still hadn't shown up.

Distracted and unsettled, I wrapped up the event and arranged for the items to be sent directly back to the villa.

When I saw the family car parked outside the villa, my heart sank.

I hurried inside and found Matteo sitting on the sofa, watching the financial news as he often did.

On the seat beside him lay the tailored suit jacket he had wrapped around Sofia's waist earlier to hide the stain. His exposed forearms were still dotted with tiny droplets of water.

My intuition told me something had slipped beyond my control.

"Why is the car at home?" I demanded.

Before Matteo could answer, a woman's startled cry came from the master bedroom. My mind instantly went blank for a second, then I saw Matteo rise and stride swiftly toward the door, his knocking unmistakably urgent and panicked.

"Sofia, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"Mrs. Romano's dress didn't quite fit me. While changing, I bumped into the wedding photo on the headboard, and it accidentally fell and broke."

I shoved Matteo aside hysterically and stormed into the room. Once inside, I slapped Sofia hard across the face while she was still partially undressed. Watching her clutch her cheek and collapse to the floor in stunned disbelief only fueled the fire inside me.

But when I noticed her wearing the 1.8-billion-dollar diamond necklace Papa gave me for my sweet 16, the rage in me blazed beyond control.

Clothes were strewn all over the walk-in closet, and the dirty, unchanged water in the bathtub sat there like a murky mirror, jeering back at me.

The air was thick with the scent of men's cologne and a faint, foul odor. Wave after wave of nausea washed over me, threatening to make me sick.

Matteo rushed over and wrapped Sofia in a bedsheet before demanding sharply, "Elena Russo, have you lost your mind? Sofia just came to take a shower and borrow some of your clothes. Who are you putting on this crazy act for?"

He thought I was being unreasonable. But he had forgotten that this was our marital bedroom, not a place anyone could enter and trample over as they pleased.

Scattered across the floor of the walk-in closet were the lingerie I had carefully chosen to please Matteo. They represented intimate moments between husband and wife, yet now they had been carelessly tossed aside and soiled by Sofia.

"Apologize to Sofia right now," Matteo commanded, his voice cold and low as he held Sofia in his arms.

I forced down the metallic taste rising in my throat and looked at him with disappointment. "No way."

We stared at each other—neither of us showing any sign of softening—until my vision blurred with tears.

Finally, Matteo said with a sigh, "After all these years by my side, I thought you'd have learned some empathy. Elena, you've truly disappointed me."

His words struck like a sharp blade, plunging straight into my heart. The pain made my lashes tremble, and tears began to fall instantly.

For Matteo, I had defied my Papa, Giovanni Russo, and the perfect match he had chosen for me. I gave up the chance to become the Don's wife of the Caruso family, the most powerful mafia clan in Solmark.

Though I was born the Principessa of a mafia family, I learned to cook zuppa and run a household for Matteo, all while supporting his climb to the top.

The most determined thing I had ever done in this life was choosing him without hesitation and reshaping my bold and fiery nature into the version that best suited him.

Yet in the end, all I earned was his icy, heart-gutting disappointment.

I refused to allow myself to wallow in sorrow. Wiping away my tears, I walked to the study and retrieved the document from years ago. Then, I placed it before them.

"Then sign the divorce papers," I said calmly.

Matteo's sharp, mocking laugh cut through the room's silence. "Why don't you continue to keep the papers safe? You'll have plenty more chances to use it in the future."

The scorn in his tone was so palpable it felt like the sharpest arrow piercing straight through my heart.

A sudden, ill-timed chuckle rang out.

Sofia seemed to forget the sting of her swollen cheek. His words broke through her defenses in an instant, pulling a laugh so pained it twisted her expression into something raw and distorted.

My hands clenched into fists, and the last flicker of hope within me vanished completely.

Matteo was the one who had drawn up the divorce papers the year we got married. The day he brought up divorce, my world nearly crumbled.

Back then, I spent every day in restless anxiety, questioning how the man I had nurtured and poured all my love into could still slip through my fingers.

I cried until I could barely breathe. Tears streamed down my face as I begged, threatened, and pleaded with him not to leave.

In the end, he relented.

Later, I gave him money, status, the finest resources, and brought him smoothly into my family. Slowly, I learned to rein in my sharp edges and tread carefully until my entire world revolved around him.

In time, the indifference in his gaze softened, warmed even.

But my own sense of security faded faster and faster. Thus, I began using the unused divorce papers as a tool to test Matteo's love for me time and again.

In the beginning, when he still needed me, he would at least try to cajole me. But as he grew stronger, he would only say I was making a scene again whenever he saw the divorce papers.

Even now, he still believed I was merely pulling them out like before to scare him, to test him, and turn it into some petty game for attention.

I looked him calmly in the eyes and said, "There won't be a next time."

At the same time, I removed my wedding ring and tossed it into the trash. "Let's get a divorce."