After I calmed down, the first thing I did was send the diagnosis report to Vincenzo.

If only to give our eight-year relationship some kind of closure.

I knew what Chloe and her brother meant to Vincenzo.

When Vincenzo was a child, his father was killed in a gang war, and his mother had a mental breakdown.

The neighboring Rossi family took Vincenzo in after he was orphaned.

Marco, a few years older, was the big brother he had trusted since childhood.

And Chloe was the little shadow who always trailed behind him.

Everyone assumed the future Don would marry his childhood sweetheart.

But during a firefight in a dark alley ten years ago, it was Marco who threw himself in front of a young Vincenzo.

A bullet meant for Vincenzo's heart had torn through Marco's lung instead.

After that, the Rossi family moved abroad and were gone for eight years.

I didn't know the exact reasons, only that it was for Marco to recover and to escape the violence of our world.

Until three months ago, when Chloe returned to New York with a dying Marco and came to Vincenzo for help.

And that was when Vincenzo started staying out all night.

When I asked, he was always at the hospital with Marco.

At first, out of respect for their brotherhood, and after learning the Rossi family had fallen on hard times, I used the De Luca family's foundation connections to find a lung specialist for Marco in Switzerland.

I truly believed that our eight years together were indestructible, that our relationship wouldn't crumble just because his old friend and childhood sweetheart had returned.

But gradually, I noticed my presence seemed to make both Vincenzo and Chloe uncomfortable.

It got to the point where Chloe would burst into pitiful tears whenever I appeared.

Later, Vincenzo forbade me from visiting. "Stay away from the hospital. Don't provoke them."

I didn't understand what was so wrong about a wife showing concern for her husband's savior.

But my upbringing kept me from making a scene like some girl from the streets.

I thought if I was just proper enough, just tolerant enough, he would come back to me once he had dealt with everything.

But the surgeon's scalpel last night had severed my last illusion.

Pulling myself together, I sent Vincenzo a text, attaching the diagnosis report for the ectopic pregnancy.

Meanwhile, in a private hospital room on the other side of Manhattan.

Vincenzo was staring at his phone screen, his brow furrowed.

I learned later that Chloe was nestled against his side at that moment and leaned in to look.

With just one glance, before Vincenzo could say a word, Chloe's eyes instantly reddened. Tears began to fall, one by one, as she spoke in a choked voice.

"I'm so sorry, Vincenzo… I never should have come back."

Her tears flowed freely. "The Donna must care about you so much… she's afraid I'll take her place. That's why she would make up such a… such a terrible lie. It's my fault. The very sight of me and my brother must offend her."

Vincenzo might have felt a flash of concern.

But then he considered it. Between the recent infighting in the Family and Marco's condition, he hadn't been home in three months, let alone touched me.

Three months apart. Where would a baby have come from?

He prided himself on knowing me, certain I would never betray him. This could only be a desperate play for his attention.

He stroked Chloe's hair, his voice exceptionally gentle.

"Silly girl, this has nothing to do with you."

"I've been too lenient with her. Now she doesn't even know where the line is."

Chloe threw herself into Vincenzo's arms, crying. "Thank you, Vincenzo. If it weren't for you, my brother and I would be dead."

Vincenzo patted her back, giving her his firmest reassurance.

After comforting Chloe for a while, Vincenzo finally found a moment to reply to my message.

[Elara, Marco doesn't have much time left. You know who he took that bullet for. As the Donna of the De Luca family, you should know better.]

[Stop cursing yourself with such vicious lies and stop trying to get sympathy over a child that doesn't exist. Once the funeral is over, I'll buy you that diamond you've always wanted. Stop making a scene.]

Eight years. I had stood by him through firefights and hails of bullets. I thought we were soulmates.

I once said that the only person in the world who truly understood me was Vincenzo.

It turned out that in his heart, I was just a crazy woman who would invent a miscarriage out of jealousy.

It doesn't take an army to break a person.

Just a constant stream of disappointments, until the last one finally extinguishes your hope.

I couldn't even feel anger anymore. Wiping my tears, I sent Vincenzo a one-word reply.

[Okay.]

Five days later, I checked myself out of the hospital.

I didn't contact Vincenzo. I just carried my small bag and, enduring the dull ache from my surgery, walked slowly out of the hospital building.

Just as I was about to call a car, a familiar black sedan pulled up in front of me.

The window rolled down, revealing Vincenzo's trusted driver. "The Don sent me as soon as he got the message from the capo. He said he'll be home after he takes care of some business and told me to take you back first."

I leaned against the bulletproof glass, watching the Manhattan streetscape recede.

His "business," I figured, still had to do with Marco and Chloe.

Back at the penthouse, I got a call from my lawyer.

"Good. Draft the agreement and send it over. Yes, the sooner the better."

Just as I said that and was about to hang up, the door's security system beeped.

Vincenzo walked in, wearing a black overcoat handmade by his Italian tailor. In his hand, he held a bouquet of my favorite lilies of the valley, a stark contrast to his usual demeanor.

"What agreement?"

Vincenzo tried to sound casual, as if the coldness on the phone days ago had never happened.

"It's about my finances," I said without looking at him, and started to walk away.

Vincenzo strode forward, loosening his tie and wrapping his arms around me from behind.

"Baby, I'm home."

In the past, I would have turned around, gently caressed his face, and given him a smiling kiss.

But now, as his familiar scent filled my nostrils, a wave of nausea washed over me.

I didn't want to say another word to him.

I shoved his arms away and walked straight into the bedroom, slamming the door shut.

The click of the lock echoed in the silence. Vincenzo stood frozen, at a complete loss.

He couldn't understand why I was still throwing a tantrum. He was home now, so why was I still giving him the cold shoulder?

Vincenzo was angry. He took several deep breaths in the living room before composing himself.

"Forget it," he muttered to himself. "No matter how educated she is, she's still just a woman in the end. It's normal for women to be petty and jealous."

"She loves me to death anyway. A little coaxing is all it will take…"

With that thought, Vincenzo let out a soft snort and headed for the bathroom.

I had slept terribly in the hospital, haunted by images of Vincenzo defending the Rossi siblings every time I closed my eyes.

Even though I had decided on a divorce, letting go of so many years felt like tearing my soul from my body.

Wiping my tears, all I wanted was to sleep.

Just then, Vincenzo, trailing steam from his shower, pushed open the bedroom door, lifted the covers, and lay down beside me.

Before I could push him away, his long arms were already wrapped tightly around me from behind.

His searing chest pressed against my back. He leaned in, his calloused fingertips tracing my waist, his touch meant to ignite a familiar spark.

"It's been three months, Elara."

His lips brushed against my carotid artery, his voice hoarse. "Stop sulking. I know you want this."

Before, I would have melted in his arms. But now, the unhealed incision on my abdomen throbbed with a dull, insistent pain.

His touch at this moment felt utterly revolting.

"Don't touch me!"

Using all my strength, I shoved him away.

Vincenzo felt he had already humbled himself enough. He couldn't understand what I was still so angry about.

With an impatient sigh, Vincenzo sat up in bed.

"Elara, what more do you want from me? I saw those vicious texts you sent Chloe."

"Yes, Chloe and I grew up together, but I only see her as a sister. Why do you have to make us sound so sordid?"

"And Marco, he's like a blood brother to me. We've been through life and death together!"

"You lied about an ectopic pregnancy, and I let it go. You call to check up on me constantly, and I can forgive that. But can you just stop being so unreasonable?"

If I had any lingering reluctance about the divorce, it all turned to ash in that moment.

I looked at the man I had loved for eight years and felt like I was staring at a stranger.

"Vincenzo, I'm tired."

I pointed to the door. "Get out."

Vincenzo froze.

In this home, in all of New York, no one dared to tell him to "get out."

"You're telling me to get out?" he asked, his voice laced with disbelief.

This was our home, our sanctuary. Where did I expect him to go?

But before he could demand an answer, the phone on the nightstand rang.

Vincenzo glanced at the screen, and the anger on his face vanished instantly.

"Vincenzo! Blood… so much blood!"

Chloe's terrified voice pierced through the speaker. "Marco's coughing up blood! The doctors are just shaking their heads. I'm so scared, you have to come!"

The color drained from Vincenzo's face. He was off the bed in a flash, grabbing his coat and rushing for the door while speaking into the phone.

"Don't panic. I'm on my way."

As I heard the front door slam shut, I finally closed my eyes.

But I didn't sleep. The thorn in my heart wouldn't let me rest.

On some strange impulse, I got up and dressed.

I was going to the hospital.

Not to win him back or to pick a fight.

I was going to serve him the divorce papers in person and make a clean break, once and for all.

When I arrived at the private hospital controlled by the De Luca family, the door to the top-floor VIP suite was slightly ajar.

Inside the somber room, Marco lay ashen-faced, an oxygen tube in his nose.

He opened his cloudy eyes and looked at Vincenzo with a pleading gaze.

"Vincenzo, I'm not going to make it…"

"The only person I can't bear to leave behind is Chloe… She's too innocent. This world will eat her alive."

"Brother, I'm asking you for one last thing…"

Marco was gasping for air, but every word he spoke was a dagger in my heart.

"Swear on the Family's name… marry Chloe. Give her the De Luca name, and protect her for the rest of her life."

Vincenzo froze.

I stood just outside the bulletproof glass of the ICU, every word a dagger in my heart.

He could support Chloe for the rest of her life, give her a status in the underworld no one would dare challenge, but how could he give her the De Luca name?

He had sworn before a priest that I was his one and only Donna, his one and only wife.

Seeing Vincenzo's hesitation, Marco's body on the bed suddenly began to convulse violently.

The heart monitor shrieked, its alarm like a countdown to death.

Blood gushed from Marco's mouth, staining Vincenzo's expensive white shirt.

Chloe, sobbing and trembling, tried to wipe the blood away while pleading with her brother.

"Brother, Vincenzo is already married. Don't make things difficult for him."

"No… It was my fault. It was because of me that you had to leave New York. I'm the one who let you lose your protection…"

Marco's hand gripped Vincenzo's arm tightly. "Vincenzo, cough… You know what this world does to women without the protection of a Family. Please, give her your name. Only the title of Mrs. De Luca can keep her safe…"

Seeing the brother who had taken a bullet for him gasping for air, his emotions spiraling, Vincenzo didn't hesitate any longer. He immediately clasped Chloe's hand.

"Marco, I promise you."

"I will marry Chloe. I will give her the highest honor and protection of the De Luca family."

"You… swear on the family crest…" Marco's eyes widened in a final burst of energy.

Vincenzo had no choice. He closed his eyes, then slowly raised his right hand.

"I swear on the name of the De Luca family, I will marry Chloe. If I break this vow, may I be cast into hell, never to find peace."

Hearing those words, Marco's tense body finally went limp, a look of relief spreading across his gaunt face.

"I don't have long. You must hold the ceremony before I die."

As if the effort of speaking was too much, Marco lapsed back into unconsciousness.

After hearing everything, I didn't storm in. Instead, I turned and walked to a bench outside, my body going cold.

A few minutes later, Vincenzo came out.

He ripped off his tie and lit a cigar, his movements sharp with agitation.

After a moment, Chloe appeared with two cups of espresso and pressed herself against his side.

"Vincenzo, I know my brother's request is too much… but he's dying, and I don't want him to go with regrets. Don't worry, it'll just be a formality. I'll go and explain everything to Elara."

"Don't." Vincenzo blew out a puff of smoke, his eyes dark. "I am the Don. This isn't just a marriage; it's a responsibility. Elara understands the bigger picture. She won't make a fuss over something like this."

"Will she really not mind? But she…"

Chloe trailed off, biting her lip, her eyes darting nervously.

"What about her? Did she send you more of those texts?"

Before Chloe could answer, Vincenzo took her phone and opened her texts.

On the screen was a message from a contact named "Elara."

[Elara: You bitch, Chloe, why isn't your brother's worthless life over yet? How much longer is he going to drag Vincenzo down?]

Seeing the message "I" had supposedly sent, Vincenzo nearly dropped the phone.

He probably never imagined that his elegant, proper, Ivy-league-educated wife could be so vicious in private.

After all, he had never seen this side of me since the day we met.

"Vincenzo, don't be angry. Donna was just upset because she loves you so much. It's my fault. I'm the one who shouldn't be here."

Chloe's crying was heartbreaking. She fell into Vincenzo's broad embrace.

Vincenzo crushed his cigar and wrapped a large arm around her.

"She's gone too far. Even as my wife, she has no right to insult my brother like that. I'll make her apologize to you."

Chloe nodded through her sobs, but in her eyes, unseen by Vincenzo, was the glint of triumph.

Just then, I stepped out from the shadows and stood before them.

Vincenzo started, his expression instantly becoming complicated.

He had always considered me the perfect Donna. Calm, elegant, a brilliant financial advisor, and most importantly, someone who would support him unconditionally no matter what.

Even if I had been throwing a bit of a fit lately, it was just jealousy. But those vicious curses were far too much.

The sun was bright, but its light couldn't hide the deathly pallor of my face.

Looking at Vincenzo's disappointed and accusatory gaze, I curled my lips into a smile, finding the whole situation absurdly funny.

"What did I say? Is it something worthy of the great Don putting on such a dramatic, heartfelt performance?"

"Are you still going to stand there and be sarcastic?"

"Chloe, show her the messages."

Chloe shook her head pitifully, then walked over and gripped my arm tightly.

"Donna, you can say whatever you want to me, I don't mind. But my brother is dying. He wants to see me and Vincenzo get married before he passes..."

"Wait." I shook off Chloe's hand, cutting her off. "What did I say to you? Be specific."

"I..." At my question, Chloe immediately recoiled like a frightened deer, hiding behind Vincenzo.

Seeing Chloe so aggrieved, Vincenzo took a large step forward, shielding her with his body.

"Elara, I am so disappointed in you. Chloe has been trying to spare your dignity, and what do you do? Curse her brother's life, call her a slut. All those years at an Ivy League school, and this is what you've learned? Cheap tricks?"

A sharp crack echoed through the air as I slapped Vincenzo across the face with all my strength.

Every word he had just spoken was a complete and utter humiliation of my pride.

Vincenzo clearly hadn't expected me to hit him. His eyes filled with shock.

"You hit me?"

The slap was so hard it snapped his head to the side, and a trickle of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth.

"Yes. Does it hurt?" I shook my stinging palm and let out a soft laugh, though the mirth didn't reach my eyes.

"So, you can feel pain too, Vincenzo?"

I took a deep breath. "That's right. I called her a bitch. A homewrecker. I wished her brother would die sooner. So what? He's not my brother. It has nothing to do with me."

"She just said she wanted my blessing? No problem."

"As for the family lawyers, I'm free anytime."

With that, I didn't give Vincenzo another glance. I just turned and walked away.

Vincenzo clutched his cheek, watching my slender figure retreat into the distance. For some reason, a wave of panic washed over him.

He couldn't understand why I looked so unfazed.

Why, when he told me he was going to marry Chloe, had I not cried or begged, but simply agreed?

Was this still the Elara who couldn't fall asleep outside his arms, who came to him for comfort over the smallest grievance?

Chloe gently touched Vincenzo's cheek, her face a mask of concern.

"Vincenzo, does it hurt? Elara didn't mean it. She was just angry. I'll go to her later and explain everything. I'll get on my knees and beg for her forgiveness. I'm sure you two will make up."

Chloe's voice was soft and docile, like an anesthetic that slowly eased Vincenzo's taut nerves.

Vincenzo nodded, accepting her explanation.

No matter what, he was certain I could never truly leave him.

Not for three days, let alone for good.