I never thought my husband would cheat on me.

And I never imagined the man who once took a bullet for me would one day be the one to put a knife in my back.

We were supposed to be everything to each other.

I met Antonia at a charity gala when I was twenty. I was a well-bred lady, always poised and elegant, while he was the notoriously cold and ruthless heir to a powerful crime family.

During a revenge hit by a rival family, I was taken hostage. He stormed in alone to save me.

At first, I was terrified of him.

His methods were brutal, and he always watched me with the intensity of a predator.

Every time we met, he showered me with lavish gifts.

At galas, whenever sons from other families tried to corner me, he would materialize by my side, a single murderous glare sending them scattering.

When a rival family sent men to threaten me for refusing a marriage alliance, he and his soldati fought them off. He took a bullet to the chest protecting me, nearly dying on the operating table.

From that day on, everything I thought I knew about him changed.

He became gentle, but only for me.

To win my heart, he promised me a safe harbor from the world.

During my sophomore year, on Thanksgiving, his father was assassinated at a family gathering, betrayed by his most trusted man.

Antonia locked himself in the family chapel for three days and nights.

When I finally saw him, he clung to me and sobbed.

He told me he hated betrayal more than anything in the world.

He said, "Elena, you are the only precious thing in my life. I, Antonia, swear on my blood to be loyal only to you and to the family. My heart, my body, my soul—it all belongs to you. If I ever break this vow, may I lose everything."

After I graduated, he introduced me to the family elders.

They were all charmed by me.

A grand wedding followed.

In our second year of marriage, after a difficult labor, I gave birth to our daughter.

Antonia named her Alyssa.

A symbol of how he treasured me.

We became an enviable family of three.

With a child, Antonia became even more driven.

In just three years, he became the family's Underboss.

Meanwhile, I built my art gallery into a resounding success.

Our life grew more opulent, but Antonia came home later and later.

He would always slip into bed late at night.

And every time, he would hold me tight and whisper, "Baby, I missed you so much. We have to be together forever."

Each time, a wave of warmth would wash over me.

My friends and colleagues all envied me, certain I had the most devoted husband in the world.

But now, that beautiful facade had been ripped away, revealing the filth underneath.

I didn't bother scrolling through more of Evelyn's feed. With a woman's intuition, I knew she was posting all of this for me.

One photo was all it took to confirm Antonia's betrayal.

There was no need to torture myself further.

I stayed up all night drafting a separation agreement, and then I signed it.

When we stepped off the private jet, Antonia was already on the tarmac, waving from a distance.

The moment Alyssa saw him, she sprinted into his arms.

Antonia scooped her up, then pulled me into their embrace.

His voice was a low, possessive rumble. "Baby, why were you gone so long? Did you forget you have a husband waiting for you? I was going crazy missing you."

With that, he leaned in to kiss me.

The thought of that mouth having kissed another woman made my stomach turn.

I subtly angled my head away. "Don't. There are people watching."

A shadow crossed Antonia's face.

Our daughter giggled. "Papa, you only missed Mama? You didn't miss me?"

"Of course I miss my little principessa! Let's go home and see what Papa has for you!"

I watched them walk ahead of me, a perfect picture of a father and daughter.

If I hadn't overheard that phone call, would I have gone my whole life without knowing?

Back at the penthouse, the apartment was immaculate.

My eyes immediately snagged on the empty space in the living room where my favorite Impressionist painting used to hang.

"Where is my painting?"

Antonia froze for a second before his expression smoothed over. "The cleaner accidentally damaged it, so I bought you a new one. What do you think? Not bad for my taste, huh?"

I said nothing.

This wasn't his taste.

After all our years together, I knew Antonia couldn't tell a Monet from a placemat.

Another woman had been in our home. I could only imagine what they'd done in the living room to "damage" my painting.

I refused to let my mind linger on it, afraid I would lose control right then and there.

Standing at the bedroom door with my suitcase, I hesitated.

"What's wrong?" Antonia asked, walking over.

I shook my head and stepped inside.

The bedroom was different. The sheets and duvet cover were brand new.

If I hadn't seen that social media post, I might have convinced myself I was imagining things.

Antonia wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. "Baby, I missed you like crazy. Don't leave for that long again, not even for our daughter. I can't sleep without you. Look at the dark circles under my eyes."