In fact, I had been diagnosed with PTSD and had even considered ending my life. It was only with Cassandra's help that I slowly began to heal.

The baby was the only light in my dark marriage. But now, that light was gone.

As the child's father, as the Grimaldi family's Underboss, even if Donovan didn't care about me, he should have at least called to check on his heir. Yet, all he did was blame me.

Perhaps, in his heart, I was no longer the wife who could secure his position.

Lying in my clinic bed, I scrolled through Seraphina's social media feed. Her latest post was a picture of her and Donovan, cheek to cheek.

A delicate, decorative band-aid was on one of her fingers. Donovan and Julian had claimed her self-inflicted wound was so minor it didn't even need a bandage. If it weren't for the high-resolution photo, no one would have noticed the nearly invisible mark.

In the background, Julian was in the kitchen, preparing a late-night snack for her.

Seraphina's caption read: "Thank you, Donovan and Julian. You always drop everything to be with me when I'm at my lowest."

The comments section was filled with praise for the Grimaldi family and envy for her.

Someone wrote, "I'm so jealous! To be protected by the Grimaldi brothers like that!"

Another comment read, "I heard you went through something terrible. Stay strong and get well soon, future Donna Grimaldi!"

Beside me, Cassandra scoffed. "Well, trash belongs with trash. They're a perfect match."

"Evelyn, stop looking. This has nothing to do with us anymore. I've already contacted the family's Consigliere to draft the separation agreement. Want to do it together?"

I tore my gaze from the screen and nodded.

…

Before long, the family separation agreements were ready. When I received mine, Seraphina had already made another post.

This time, the photo was of a lavish meal. The caption read: "My personal chef, Julian, is an amazing cook. Everything he makes is delicious!"

Next to Seraphina, a man's hand reached over to put food on her plate. The hand belonged to my husband. The finger that once wore his Grimaldi family wedding ring was now bare, with only a faint indent to mark where it had been.

I pressed my lips into a thin, white line, blinking hard against the sting of tears.

After signing the agreement, I had someone deliver the document to Donovan's office.

I wanted a clean break. So, when I saw the document had been delivered, I called him.

Donovan was clearly busy; I had to call several times before he finally picked up.

Before I could utter a word, he exploded. "Evelyn Monroe! Are you out of your goddamn mind? What the hell is this separation agreement?"

"You want to leave the family? And you sent it to my office! Do you want all the family elders to see how jealous and tactless you are?"

My eyes stung with unshed tears. I had specifically written our private clinic's address on the envelope. A single glance would have told him I was still there. Yet, he hadn't asked a single question about my well-being.

I held back my tears and was about to speak when Seraphina's sweet voice cooed through the phone. "Donny, I absolutely love this necklace. But you really didn't have to spend so much money on me."

Donovan clearly hadn't expected her to speak.

After a slight rustle, he explained sharply, "Seraphina liked this diamond necklace, so I bought it for her. Don't get the wrong idea.

"Where are you now? Come over and apologize to Seraphina. She's not well, yet she's still worried about you. She's such a kind woman. Stop being so domineering and learn some manners."

Donovan's tone held a hint of smugness, as if my world would crumble if he didn't forgive me.