At another Sunday dinner at the Bellandi estate, Luca Bellandi's assistant, Ava Marino, was sitting in my seat.

It was the first chair to Luca's right at the long walnut table, the seat everyone in Chicago's underworld knew belonged to Mrs. Bellandi. Ava sat there as if she had been born into it, her pale wrist brushing Luca's sleeve while she poured his wine.

I stood in the doorway and looked at him. "She's in my seat. You don't have anything to say?"

Luca raised his eyes. "You were late. Don't blame someone else for sitting down first. There are empty chairs over there. Sit if you want. If not, get out."

The dining room went dead quiet, and before I could answer, his thoughts slipped into my ears.

[Vivi, don't go. Come sit beside me. Tell them it's your seat. Tell me you still want to be my wife.]

[Please get mad. Please care. Say you need me, and I'll give you the whole world.]

In the past, those soft, trembling thoughts would have been enough. I would've swallowed the insult and stayed beside him like a loyal dog that didn't know when to leave.

This time, I didn't. I slipped the wedding ring off my finger and laid it on the table.

"If the Bellandi family can't even keep a wife's seat for me, then I guess this family doesn't need a wife anymore. Luca, let's get divorced."

At another Sunday dinner at the Bellandi estate, Luca Bellandi's assistant, Ava Marino, was sitting in my seat.

It was the first chair to Luca's right at the long walnut table, the seat everyone in Chicago's underworld knew belonged to Mrs. Bellandi. Ava sat there as if she had been born into it, her pale wrist brushing Luca's sleeve while she poured his wine.

I stood in the doorway and looked at him. "She's in my seat. You don't have anything to say?"

Luca raised his eyes. "You were late. Don't blame someone else for sitting down first. There are empty chairs over there. Sit if you want. If not, get out."

The dining room went dead quiet, and before I could answer, his thoughts slipped into my ears.

[Vivi, don't go. Come sit beside me. Tell them it's your seat. Tell me you still want to be my wife.]

[Please get mad. Please care. Say you need me, and I'll give you the whole world.]

In the past, those soft, trembling thoughts would have been enough. I would've swallowed the insult and stayed beside him like a loyal dog that didn't know when to leave.

This time, I didn't. I slipped the wedding ring off my finger and laid it on the table.

"If the Bellandi family can't even keep a wife's seat for me, then I guess this family doesn't need a wife anymore. Luca, let's get divorced."

...

Luca's face went white. Old Mr. Bellandi set down his cigar, Mrs. Bellandi froze, and even Ava raised a brow as if I had just told a bad joke.

Six years. I had been Luca Bellandi's wife for six years, and everyone knew I was the only one who could calm the ruthless, sharp-tongued Don of Chicago. When he mocked me in public, I heard him think, [Vivi, I don't mean it. I'm just scared you'll ignore me.] When he told me to leave, I heard, [Don't go. I need you.] When he slammed doors, I heard my name behind them, soft and helpless.

So I softened. Again and again, I turned back. After a while, the Bellandis got used to it. Mrs. Bellandi even laughed once and said, "A difficult man needs a wife who can't be chased away."

They forgot that even a woman who couldn't be chased away could get tired.

"Vivian." Mrs. Bellandi came over and took my hand, her voice careful. "Are you in a bad mood? You know Luca. He has a hard mouth and a soft heart."

Old Mr. Bellandi frowned. "This is a family dinner. The Capos are here. Divorce isn't something you throw around because you're upset. Put the ring back on."

I laughed under my breath. "So you do know this is a family dinner." I looked at Ava. "Then when did she become family?"

Ava stood in a black satin dress with the Bellandi silver rose pinned to her neckline. That pin belonged to blood relatives, core members, and the Don's wife.

"Vivian, I only came because Luca needed me to explain the South Harbor ledgers," she said. "I didn't know the chair mattered that much."

Luca shot to his feet, his chair scraping the floor. "Enough. How long are you going to embarrass yourself? You want a divorce? Fine. Get out. The Bellandi family doesn't need a woman who only knows how to make trouble."

His words cut like a blade, but his thoughts slammed into my chest with a different kind of pain.

[No. Vivi, don't say divorce. You promised you'd stay with me. You're only trying to scare me, right? If I get angry, you'll come hug me like before.]

I had lived with that split for ten years. When I met Luca, he had just survived seven days in a rival family’s basement. After he came back, Luca stopped believing anyone would stay for him.

He couldn’t say what he felt, couldn’t let people touch him, and used cruel words to push away anyone who came close. Everyone feared him. I was the only one who could hear him.

When he said, "Stay away," I heard, [Please don't be scared of me.] When he threw away the cake I baked, I heard, [I want it. I just don't know how to say thank you.] I pitied him and thought that made me special.

Four years knowing him, six years married to him. I watched him become Chicago's youngest and coldest Don. He learned to smile at enemies and treat outsiders with patience, but with me, he stayed cruel.

I used to bear it because I could hear his heart. Then Ava came.

Ava Marino was the younger sister of his dead underboss, pretty, clever, and good with the Bellandi harbor books. Luca personally brought her into the South Harbor office. He never spent my birthday with me, yet he booked a rooftop restaurant for Ava's. I had liked an emerald brooch for half a year; he bought it at auction and pinned it on her gown. When I had a fever, he sent medicine through a driver. When Ava said her wrist hurt, he drove across half the city himself.

Every time, his thoughts still said he loved me. [Vivi, get jealous. Tell me you don't like me being with her. Say one word, and I'll stop seeing her.] But he never once left Ava on his own.

Tenderness trapped inside a man's head wasn't tenderness. Love that never became action wasn't love.

I looked at Luca's pale lips and nodded. "Fine. I'll get out."

I turned for the door. Mrs. Bellandi called after me, and Old Mr. Bellandi ordered someone to stop me, but no one dared touch me. Only Luca caught my wrist in a few long strides. His palm was ice-cold, his grip hard enough to bruise.

[Vivi, are you really angry? I was wrong. I shouldn't have let Ava sit there. Look at me, please. Don't leave me. If you leave, I won't know how to breathe.]

My heart trembled. For ten years, every time his heart cried out, I forgot I was bleeding too. Then his mouth dragged me back to reality.

"You want to leave?" Luca glanced at my heels and sneered. "Take off the shoes. I bought them."

I went still. The ivory heels on my feet were old now, the soles worn and the heels repaired twice. I still couldn't throw them away. On our wedding day, Luca never told me I looked beautiful. After the reception, he left those shoes outside our bedroom and acted as if he didn't care whether I noticed.

Back then, I heard him think, [Vivi, do you see them? I had them made in Italy. My bride should wear the prettiest shoes and walk wherever she wants. I hope you're loved well for the rest of your life. I hope I'm the one who gets to love you.]

Because of those words, I treasured them for six years. Now he wanted them back.

I crouched, unbuckled the straps, and set the shoes in front of him. The floor was cold under my bare feet. "Fine. They're yours."

Luca's face darkened, but his eyes slowly turned red.

Mrs. Bellandi hurried forward. "Vivian, don't take him seriously. He'd never make you leave barefoot. He just doesn't know how to ask you to stay."

Before she finished, Luca picked up the heels and threw them into the fireplace. Flames swallowed the pearl buckles.

"You wore them for six years and only returned them now," he said softly. "They're dirty."

Something heavy hit my chest. For six years, I had cleaned, repaired, and protected those shoes. To him, they were old things he could burn on a whim.

His thoughts panicked. [Vivi, you're crying. You still care, right? Say you didn't mean it. Tomorrow I'll fill your closet with every pair you want. Anything you want, I'll give you.]

I looked into the fire and suddenly felt tired. No matter how many beautiful shoes he bought, none of them would be that first pair. No matter how soft his thoughts were, they couldn't undo the fire he had lit.

I walked out of the Bellandi estate barefoot. Wet gravel cut into my feet, the guards lowered their eyes, and no one followed. Behind me, Ava's fake concern drifted out.

"Luca, are you really not going after her? She looks heartbroken."

Luca scoffed. "Why would I? Give her half an hour. She'll come crawling back for forgiveness."

I didn't look back.

He didn't know I was truly leaving. Aurelia Shipping had offered me a transfer to New York, and I had planned to tell him tonight, maybe ask if he wanted to start over with me somewhere else. Now there was nothing to discuss.

My flight was tomorrow. This time, I wouldn't come back begging.

By the time I returned to our lakeside apartment, my feet were full of tiny cuts. I sat on the bathroom tiles and washed them with alcohol. The sting burst under my skin, but after enough pain, a person learned not to flinch.

When I finished bandaging my feet, I looked around the home I had lived in for six years. There had once been my curtains, my white roses, and the floor lamp Luca and I found at a flea market. Now Ava's rabbit statue sat in the living room, her chosen ties hung in the closet, and the bedroom smelled like her cedar diffuser.

Every time I said it made me uncomfortable, Luca would lean back and say, "Vivian, don't be petty. She's just my assistant." Yet whenever I got jealous, satisfaction flickered in his eyes, as if my pain fed his fear.

As he wished, I finally stopped being petty. I was giving away the title of Mrs. Bellandi too.

I opened my suitcase and packed the few things that were truly mine: my passport, my documents, a few plain outfits, and my mother's emerald bracelet.

It was the only thing she had left me. After my family went bankrupt, my mother sold every last symbol of dignity to pay off our debts. The bracelet had come from my grandmother, and on her deathbed my mother still wanted it back. Later, Luca found the buyer and spent thirty million dollars at a private auction to bring it home.

He fastened it around my wrist himself and said, "Stop crying. You look awful." But what I heard was, [Vivi, I brought back what your mother left you. From now on, I'll protect you in her place.]

So even if I took nothing else from this marriage, I had to take that bracelet.

Just as I closed the suitcase, the door opened. Luca came in smelling of whiskey, his black shirt open at the throat, half his weight leaning on Ava's shoulder. Ava held him like a hostess bringing her husband home.

When he saw my suitcase, he let go of her at once. His pupils tightened.

[Vivi, you're packing? You're really leaving? I was wrong. I shouldn't have taken Ava to dinner. I only wanted you jealous. I only wanted to know you still loved me. Don't go. Please don't go.]

Panic filled his eyes, but his voice came out cold. "Think carefully, Vivian. If you leave me, plenty of women would kill to be Mrs. Bellandi. But once you leave me, who the hell is going to want a woman like you?"

I looked at him and laughed softly. "Then go find one of those women."

Luca's fists tightened. The next second, as if I had shoved him past reason, he put an arm around Ava's waist.

"Fine. I'll marry Ava. She's smart, sweet, and useful. She can handle the South Harbor books. Most importantly, she won't be like you, six years as Mrs. Bellandi and still unable to give me a child."

My breath stopped.

Everyone knew children were the wound no one should touch. Six years ago, Luca had a trauma episode and ran into the rain. I went after him and fell into the freezing lake by the docks. I survived, but pregnancy became almost impossible. I drank endless medicine, went through five rounds of IVF, and cried through too many nights. Luca knew better than anyone.

Still, he aimed the sharpest knife at the place that hurt most.

My eyes burned. "Luca, you're a bastard."

Panic crossed his face, and he almost stepped toward me, but Ava slid her arm through his and sighed. "Vivian, Luca isn't exactly wrong. The Bellandi family needs an heir. Any other man would've given up on this marriage years ago, but Luca endured it for six years. Now you're asking for divorce and moving out? That's a little selfish, don't you think?"

Luca stopped. I watched the panic in his eyes sink under familiar coldness. He believed Ava again, or maybe in that moment, Ava simply mattered more. She could steady the South Harbor books and a room full of Capos. If she got scratched, he worried about the family. If my heart was ripped open, he called me difficult.

"Looks like I've spoiled you too much," Luca said.

He seized my suitcase and ripped the zipper apart. Clothes, documents, and medicine bottles spilled across the floor, and his gaze landed on the emerald bracelet at the bottom.

My face went cold. "Don't touch it."

Luca picked up the bracelet and looked down at me. "Need me to remind you? I paid thirty million dollars for this."