"What's on your mind? Your coffee's gone cold," Vincenzo asked as he came up from the basement.

The black shirt outlined his broad shoulders and narrow waist, and his sleeves were rolled up to reveal the brutal famiglia tattoo along his forearm.

It was the tattoo I had personally inked on Vincenzo when he took over the famiglia at the age of 23.

I once thought that the tattoo served as his badge of honor and a reminder of the bond between us.

But now, it meant nothing at all.

"Nothing." I looked up and flashed Vincenzo a composed smile. "Your phone rang earlier. It's an encrypted number, and it hung up after one ring. Want to call it back?"

"No need." He picked up the phone and casually tossed it onto the desk before grabbing his coat. "Something came up in Brodlyn. Someone crossed our turf and moved in on our shipment, so I'll need to take care of it. Don't wait up tonight."

"How many men are you taking?" I asked instinctively. Years of habit had trained me to think ahead for Vincenzo.

"Five will do." He paused, then added, "Marco is coming with me. You don't need to worry."

How convincing. Vincenzo had a problem, backup, and even made a point to soothe me.

If I hadn't seen the evidence myself, I would've laid out his bulletproof vest and reminded him to be careful, just like what I always did.

I nodded and got up to fix Vincenzo's collar for him. "Be careful. Don't get hurt."

Something flickered in his eyes. He reached out to hug me, but stopped short the moment his hand brushed past my shoulder.

He eventually withdrew his hand and replied in a muffled tone, "I'll get going now."

I watched as Vincenzo left in a hurry. Then, I picked up the cold coffee and drank it in one shot.

The bitterness that spread across my tongue couldn't compare to what I felt deep down.

…

Vincenzo didn't come home that night.

I sat on the couch in the living room, staring at our wedding photo on the wall for a long time.

Vincenzo had bright eyes and was smiling shyly in the photo. He was holding my hand tightly, like I was his everything.

Meanwhile, I was dressed in a long black gown, my expression cold. But when I looked at him, something in my face softened without me realizing.

I couldn't make sense of the reason Vincenzo would betray me.

Was it because I'd grown older? Or was it because I had weathered through blood and violence, and had lost the innocence Lina still carried?

Or maybe, Vincenzo's "love" for me from the start was nothing more than dependence and convenience.

I leaned back against the couch and closed my eyes. Images flickered through my mind, one after another, until a blurry figure suddenly popped up.

My eyelids flew open at once. I hurriedly pulled out my phone and started scrolling through Lina's photos again.

I had seen this woman before.

About half a year ago, Vincenzo got into a fight with the Irla mafia over a turf dispute. During an ambush, he was shot in the left arm and rushed to the famiglia's private hospital.

I was dealing with some issues with the drug transport route in Myradi back then. The moment I got the call, I flew back overnight.

Vincenzo's face was pale as he lay on the hospital bed. Even with his left arm wrapped in thick bandages, he still tried to brush it off. "It's just a scratch. Nothing serious."

I felt upset and heartbroken at the same time, seeing blood seeping through his bandages.

I snapped, "Can you rein in that spoiled bravado of yours? This isn't some lawless era anymore. You can't solve everything with your fists!"

Vicenzo suddenly grabbed my hand. Grievance filled his gaze when he said, "They called you an old hag, Freya. Said you weren't fit to be the Donna of the Corleone famiglia. I couldn't just do nothing."

Just like that, my anger drained away. All that was left was just tenderness for him.

I thought then that Vincenzo truly cared about me.

When Vincenzo had finally recovered, I took him out to eat at one of the famiglia's restaurants.

We had barely stepped outside the hospital when a young woman in a server's uniform suddenly rushed over. She threw herself in front of Vincenzo with tears streaming down her face.

"Thank you, sir! I don't even know what would've happened to me if you hadn't saved me that day!" she sobbed.

I was stunned for a moment. Then, I turned to look at Vincenzo.

He frowned, looking irritated. "You should find another job. Waiting tables doesn't suit you."

The woman's expression crumpled. "Something came up at home, so I needed the money. Otherwise, I wouldn't have taken the job—"

"That's not my problem," Vincenzo cut her off sharply, already pulling me to leave.

But the woman refused to give up. She trailed behind us for a bit, her voice pleading. "My name is Lina. Could you leave me a way to contact you? I want to repay you someday!"

Vincenzo's face darkened. Just as he was about to lose his temper, I pressed my hand over his.

I said to Lina, "He doesn't need you to repay him. Just take care of yourself."

Marco was with us that day. After we got into the car, he blurted out, "Don't you think that young woman—Lina—looks a bit like you? Especially her eyes."

Back then, I laughed it off with a shake of my head, finding it ridiculous.

But now, as I stared at Lina's photo on my phone, the memory slid neatly into place.

It was really her.

It turned out that everything was pre-planned after all.

…

Vincenzo only returned during noon the next day.

He brought me a tiramisu that I used to love. It was the signature dessert from a century-old bakery in Brodlyn.

"I waited in line for half an hour." Vincenzo set the cake in front of me. He sounded a little apologetic when he said, "Try it. See if it still tastes the same."

I didn't touch it. Instead, I looked at him. "How did things go last night? You didn't get hurt, did you?"

"I'm fine." Vincenzo let out a breath, clearly relieved that I was still concerned about him. "We've already handled those idiots who didn't know their place. Brodlyn still belongs to us."

As he spoke, he shrugged off his coat, revealing a shirt speckled with dried blood. He tossed it into the laundry without a second glance. "I'm taking a bath."

"Okay," I replied.

The moment Vincenzo stepped into the bathroom, I picked up the box of tiramisu and tossed it into the trash.

A flavor I once craved now made my stomach turn.

I grabbed the spare key and headed for the underground garage.

Vincenzo's black Bentley had been cleaned spotless. The passenger seat was reclined low. A faint trace of perfume lingered in the air, cloying and clearly not mine.

I opened the door, slid into the driver's seat, and connected to the dashcam. Footage from last night through this morning played back, clear and uninterrupted.

Vincenzo hadn't gone to Brodlyn at all.

After leaving the villa, his car headed straight for an art academy.

Vincenzo called Lina, speaking in a gentle tone unfamiliar to me. "Come down. I'm waiting at the gate."

She came skipping out a few minutes later. She was dressed in a white dress, looking like a college student.

Lina slipped into the passenger seat and immediately threw herself into Vincenzo's arms. The sounds of them kissing and panting were caught clearly in the dashcam,

"Did you touch that old hag?" she asked, voice thick with possessiveness.

Vincenzo did not answer her.

"Did you or did you not?" Lina pressed.

Vincenzo's voice was hoarse and dripping with lust when he answered, "What do you think?"

Lina smiled, pleased. "I knew it! You only want me. That old hag is old and boring. How could she ever be worthy of you?"

"Shut up." Vincenzo's tone cooled down, but there was no real reprimand in it.

"Am I wrong?" Lina said sweetly. "She's in her 30s already. Her skin must be sagging by now. Unlike me—young and full of vigor. By the way, when are you divorcing her? I want to be the real Madre Corleone."

Vincenzo fell silent for a while before answering vaguely, "Give it some time."

The car sped through the journey and eventually pulled up beneath a luxury apartment building.

The dashcam footage cut out at the moment they got out of the car, wrapped around each other.

It was already 8:00 am the next morning when the recording resumed.

This time, Vincenzo returned to the car alone.

He lit a cigarette and stared at the passenger seat for a long while, his expression unreadable.

Just then, Marco's call came through. "When are you coming over, Don Corleone? Everything in Brodlyn's set. We're just waiting on you."

"Be right there." Vincenzo crushed his cigarette and started the engine.

Marco clicked his tongue and teased, "Don't tell me you're with Ms. Lina again last night? That's a bit much, even for you. You're not actually serious about her, are you?"

Vincenzo chuckled softly. His tone was tinged with impatience, and even a hint of disdain that he didn't seem aware of himself. "Serious about what? She's just for fun."

"What about Freya then?" Marco carefully asked. "You fought the famiglia elders for her back then. The former Don Corleone even broke your arm over it."

The question seemed to catch Vincenzo off guard.

After a long while, he spoke up, his tone icy. "Freya's 38 now."

"What's wrong with that? She's still sharp as ever. She'd even helped us clean up that mess with the FBI last week," Marco replied.

"I don't know why," Vincenzo started, his tone edged with something cruel. "But once she passed 33, she started to feel dirty to me. The fine lines on her face, the smell of gunpowder that never leaves her, and those eyes that see through everything—they made me sick."

It hit me all at once, and my mind went blank. My blood ran cold, my fingertips numb, and even my breath seemed to catch.

Dirty? Sick?

I had put my life on the line for Vincenzo. I held the famiglia together and cooked for him. I gave up my freedom and dreams for him.

And in the end, those were the two words he chose to describe me.

How long has it been since Vincenzo last touched me?

I sat in the car, lighting a cigarette.

It was the brand I used to smoke when I was younger. Later, I quit because Vincenzo didn't like it.

But now, I picked it up again.

I started pondering as smoke curled around me.

It had probably started half a year ago, after Vincenzo saved Lina.

Back then, the famiglia was under FBI investigation. I was stretched thin, sleeping only three or four hours every night. All I wanted was to collapse whenever I got home.

Once, Vincenzo came back drunk and tried to pull me into his arms.

Exhausted, I pushed him away. "Don't do this. I really don't have the energy. Next time."

Vincenzo was stunned. His gaze dimmed, yet he said nothing and went to the guest room instead.

The second time was the night I finally resolved the investigation crisis. I thought we could finally return to how things used to be.

Vincenzo wanted me, but I was slow to respond after days of exhaustion.

He halted halfway through, expression hardening when he asked, "Are you really that unwilling?"

I tried to explain, but he slammed the door and went out drinking until the next morning.

The third time, Vincenzo suggested we sleep separately. "You've been too tired recently. Get some rest. We'll sleep apart for now."

I was so moved by his act that I actually teared up, thinking he was being considerate then. But now I only realized that he wasn't being kind. Instead, he was repulsed by me.

Vincenzo found someone younger and full of energy. He found a woman who fed his vanity to replace a wife who was "old" and "dirty".

The cigarette burned down to the filter, searing my fingertips.

I snapped out of the pain and stubbed it out. However, a small blister had already formed on my fingertip.

This pain was nothing compared to what Vincenzo had said.

I opened the car door and stepped out. As I entered the house, I ran into Vincenzo fresh out of the bathroom, dressed only in his bathrobe with his hair still dripping.

He frowned when he saw me coming in. "Where did you go?"

"I took the trash out," I said evenly. "And went to get some air."

Vincenzo didn't question it. Instead, he nodded and said, "I'm hungry. Have the cooks make something."

"Alright." I turned and headed toward the kitchen, my back straight and my steps steady.

Only I knew that my heart had completely shattered the moment I heard Vincenzo call me dirty.