Never Forgiven

One week before our wedding, my fiancé, my father’s own consigliere, sold him out.He set him up for a FBI raid.

My father died in a pool of blood, his eyes wide open, and the once-great Moretti family collapsed overnight.

In my darkest hour, Dominic, the Don of the New York Luciani family, showed up with a crew of mercenaries.

He didn't just take care of the rat; he gave me total protection. He obsessed over me for three years, even tattooing my name over his heart.

I fell for it. I believed he loved me.

I let my guard down and stayed by his side, serving as the lead perfumer for the coldest man in the city.

Until today. Outside the wine cellar, I overheard him talking to his rival.

"Old man Moretti died never knowing who had leaked his location," Dominic said.

"But imagine if that stupid woman, Elena, found out," the rival mocked. "If she knew the man who killed her father was the same husband kissing her forehead every night... would she lose her mind?"

My hand froze on the cellar door.

The rival’s laughter came through the cracks: "You’re cold-blooded, Dominic! Elena thinks you’re her savior. She even wants to give you an heir. She’d never dream the raid that destroyed her life was actually your offering to Sienna."

The wine cellar held the scent of oak barrels and aged red wine.

I pressed myself against the cold stone wall, trying to keep my breathing even.

Dominic's voice cut through from the other side, "Bold of you, coming onto my territory alone."

A gruff laugh answered him.

Through the crack in the hidden door, I recognized Carmine Lucchese, the East Side boss.

"I'm just curious, Luciani, how do you sleep at night? Does your wife know Old Man Moretti dying at the hands of the cops wasn't an accident?"

"The man by your side for three years, the one who killed your father. Heh, I'd love to see her face when she learns the truth."

My heart stopped at his words.

"Watch your mouth," Dominic's voice grew cold.

"Don't pretend," Lucchese sneered. "The whole New York underworld knows. How else would the FBI have known Moretti's shipping route so precisely three years ago?"

"I also know that to cover up Sienna’s smuggling mistake back then, you turned Moretti’s consigliere and personally pushed Old Man Moretti to his death. The most ironic part is, his daughter thought you were her savior."

"To do all this for a woman, I never thought a Don would be so sentimental. Too bad the entire Moretti family became the casualties of your schemes."

With a sharp crack, a glass shattered.

"Say one more word, and I’ll have you at the bottom of the Hudson tonight."

"The truth is the truth, Dominic," Lucchese’s footsteps receded. "Your fairy tale can fool Elena, but it won't fool me."

After a suffocating silence.

Dominic’s deep voice broke the quiet. "Clean it up. He's not leaving New York alive tonight."

"Understood, Don."

Footsteps faded away. I covered my mouth, my fingernails digging into my palm.

We had been married for three years.

Three years ago, my father’s empire collapsed overnight.

Everyone avoided me like the plague. Only Dominic showed up, his deep eyes on me, and said, "Marry me. I'll protect you."

I thought he was the light in my darkness.

But the truth was, he had driven my father into the abyss for another woman.

Three years of devotion, it turned out, was just his price.

A wave of disgust washed over me, my stomach churning.

Unable to make a sound, I bit down hard on my lower lip, letting the salty taste of blood fill my mouth.

After a long time, I slowly sat up from the floor.

My mind was a mess. All I knew was that I had to leave.

As I walked out of the estate, a torrential rain began. The cold drops hit my face, but I felt nothing.

I didn't know how long I had walked when a blinding light flashed before me.

Headlights pierced the darkness. A familiar Maybach stopped in front of me.

The door opened.

Dominic stepped out. He looked at me, surprise flickering in his eyes.

"Elena, darling, what are you doing out here?"

I took a step back, shaking.

He thought I was cold. His long fingers brushed my soaked hair, his touch unbelievably gentle.

Then he lowered his head and pressed his warm lips against my icy forehead.

"See, you're freezing," he murmured.

"Let's go home," he scooped me up in his arms, just like he had countless times before.

Back at the estate, Dominic dismissed the maids and dried my hair, his movements gentle and practiced, just like every night for the past three years.

"Next week is our third wedding anniversary. I'll throw a grand celebration, let all of New York see how much I love you."

He kissed me, then moved down my collarbone, and further.

My body reacted to his familiar touch, trembling.

We were entwined until late into the night. He held me tightly, his hot breath on my ear.

"Darling, promise me," his voice was deep and dangerous. "Don't leave me."

He let out a barely audible sigh.

Then I heard his mumbled name: Sienna.

So, every night during intimacy, he was calling out someone else's name to me.