"Are you sure you want to liquidate everything, Donna?"

My private lawyer, Ethan, stared at the thick file in his hands and pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses, his tone filled with disbelief.

"Once you sign this, your authorization over all shell corporations, trust funds, and overseas accounts linked to the De Luca family will be terminated. This means severing ties with eight years of your hard work."

I nodded calmly, saying nothing more.

Ethan didn't press the matter. He handed me the pen.

The nib scratched across the paper, the sound like a blade cutting through rotting flesh.

"Also, please draft the divorce papers for me. As soon as possible."

"And the Don…"

"I'll handle him. And until this is all settled, please ensure it remains confidential."

Everyone in the underworld knew about Vincenzo and me.

For eight years, his love for me was public and passionate. Everyone spoke of the deep love between the Don and Donna of the De Luca family.

For it to end like this, it was natural for Ethan to have reservations.

But while I may appear quiet and gentle, I have a stubborn streak. Once I decide on something, I don't look back.

I spent the entire day severing my ties to the Family. That evening, the divorce papers were delivered to my office.

After carefully reviewing all the clauses, I signed my name without a second thought.

It was late when I returned to the penthouse apartment.

I opened the door to a dark living room. The only light was the faint, scarlet glow of a cigar smoldering in the blackness.

Vincenzo was sitting in an armchair, a Cuban cigar pinched between his fingers.

The air was thick with the heavy scent of tobacco and whiskey.

Hearing the door, he stubbed out the cigar and stood up, his tall frame instantly casting a long shadow.

"You're back." His voice carried a weariness I had never heard before.

"I know you don't like the smell… I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

I was already giving up on this home. Why would I care if he smoked in the living room?

I changed my shoes and walked straight toward the bedroom.

"Elara, I need to talk to you."

Vincenzo crossed the room in a few large strides, blocking my way.

His embrace was once my most cherished sanctuary, but now it only made me feel suffocated.

"We need to talk."

He looked down at me, a rare anxiety in his eyes.

But I was exhausted from the long day and had no energy to argue. I simply stood my ground, my gaze calm as I met his.

"Okay. Go on."

Vincenzo had been expecting me to be angry after his behavior that morning, to give him the silent treatment. He assumed my late return was a sign of my continued displeasure.

He didn't expect me to be so calm.

Though a faint sense of unease still lingered, he knew he couldn't put this off any longer.

"Marco is fading fast." He avoided my gaze, his brow furrowed. "The doctors have given him his final notice."

"You know what Marco means to me. A man of the De Luca family cannot break his word."

"You know his only dying wish is to see Chloe settled. So I…"

Vincenzo believed he had done nothing wrong, but he couldn't bring himself to say the next words. He didn't know how to tell his wife he had to marry another woman.

"So, you have to give Chloe a title, the name of Mrs. De Luca, and protect her for the rest of her life with the family crest. Is that right?" I finished for him.

I still remembered every word I had heard at the hospital today.

It turned out, even he knew how hurtful those words were.

"You already knew?" Vincenzo looked surprised.

But since we were already on the topic, he had no choice but to reason with me.

"Elara, my parents were killed by our enemies when I was a child. One time, when a rival family ambushed me, it was Marco who saved my life."

"He's not just my brother; he's my savior. If it weren't for him, I'd be in a grave right now. This is a blood debt. I know you can…"

"You don't have to say another word. I agree."

Vincenzo had a whole speech prepared about responsibility and the bigger picture, but I cut him off.

For a long moment, he didn't respond.

"Vincenzo, I said, I agree. Go ahead and make the arrangements."

After saying that, I even curved my lips into a small smile.

That smile instantly cleared much of the gloom from Vincenzo's mind.

He joyfully pulled me into his arms, holding me tight.

"I knew it!" He rested his chin on the top of my head. "I knew you would understand. My Elara is the most sensible of all."

"Don't worry, the marriage to Chloe is a sham. It's just a ceremony to give Marco peace of mind."

"I won't invite many people, but if outsiders start talking or if anyone in the Family questions it, I hope you'll help me explain."

Imprisoned in his embrace, I felt no warmth at all.

I just stood there woodenly, a soulless doll in his arms.

I swallowed the crushing pain in my heart and managed a soft "Mm."

That ought to satisfy him, right?

Vincenzo released me and leaned in to kiss my forehead, but I turned my head just enough to avoid it.

"I'm tired. I'm going to sleep." I pushed him away and walked back into the bedroom.

For the next three days, Vincenzo didn't come back.

I wasn't idle, either.

As a chief financial advisor, I had handled countless complex asset liquidations. This time, it was my own.

I packed all my personal documents and belongings, shipping them secretly through my private channels to a secure vault in Zurich.

Leaning back on the sofa, I stared at the wedding photo of Vincenzo and me on the wall, my eyes filled with cold tears.

My phone buzzed, a text message pulling me back to the present.

I opened it. It was a picture from Chloe.

No words, just a high-definition selfie.

In the photo, Chloe was wearing an ivory Italian gown, made from Vincenzo's favorite fabric.

But what stung my eyes was the emerald necklace resting on her collarbone.

It was the De Luca family heirloom, passed down through generations, to be worn only by the reigning Donna.

When we got married, I had wanted to wear that necklace.

But Vincenzo had locked it away in a UBS vault, whispering in my ear, "Elara, on our tenth anniversary, I will put this on you myself. Don't worry, you are the only woman worthy of its weight."

Now, those heavy green gems rested on another woman's collarbone, their mocking gleam caught in the camera's flash.

I looked back at my wedding photo with Vincenzo and felt that the eight years I had dedicated to our relationship were nothing but a colossal joke.

My phone buzzed again. Another message from Chloe.

[Chloe: Elara, the ceremony is tomorrow. The Don said that considering Marco's dying wish and your feelings, it would be best for everyone's dignity if you didn't attend. We can get together privately after everything has settled.]

What a perfect victim. Using a dying man to pressure the living, cloaking her greed in the name of "dignity."

I laughed coldly and replied with a single word. "Congratulations."

After sending it, I blocked her number and made a call to a professional painting company.

Everything in this apartment was a product of my love and hard work. Since I was leaving, there was no reason for any of it to remain.

The next day, the ceremony at the De Luca estate was grand and solemn.

Of course, I didn't go.

I found out later that the guests were all friends and relatives of the Rossi family.

Vincenzo kept searching for me in the crowd, but from the beginning of the ceremony to the end, I was nowhere to be seen.

After the ceremony, Vincenzo wanted to return to our apartment. Chloe wanted to go with him, saying she wanted to thank me in person for my blessing.

Vincenzo had no reason to refuse. He believed he and Chloe were innocent and had nothing to hide.

But when Vincenzo opened the door, he froze as if struck by lightning.

The luxurious Italian decor of the penthouse was gone.

The walls, the ceiling, the expensive marble floors, even the window frames, were all coated in a thick layer of light-absorbing, industrial matte black paint.

Except for a few boxes in the center of the living room containing Vincenzo's personal belongings, our home was completely empty.

As Chloe let out a fake gasp, Vincenzo walked stiffly into the living room and, with a trembling hand, picked up the file folder from the top of the boxes.

He ripped it open. Two documents slid out.

One was the divorce agreement I had signed. The other was the surgical report for my ectopic pregnancy.