At the family meeting, my mafia Don husband spared his secretary one glance. I turned and walked away, canceled our wedding anniversary celebration, and decided I was done with him.

I signed my name on the divorce papers I had prepared long ago.

When Matteo Santoro saw the agreement, he called me at once, his voice tight with restrained anger.

"What are you trying to pull this time? Is this really because I looked at Elena?"

"Yes," I said. "Because you looked at her."

The family's award ceremony was in full swing.

Matteo Santoro smiled as he picked up where Elena Conti left off, his voice smooth and confident.

"Elena's been the mastermind behind our family's growth and success. Over the past decade, every major deal, each worth millions, was her doing. She's taken our family's reputation to heights we've never seen before, and you've all seen it with your own eyes.

"I'm giving Elena the same power as an Underboss. She'll be right there in the thick of it, making the big calls with us!

"She'll get all the perks of an Underboss. From here on out, she's not just a subordinate. She's family, a sister to us all."

The room went dead quiet as he finished.

Seconds later, the place burst into cheers and applause.

Matteo gave Elena a reassuring pat on the shoulder as her eyes brimmed with tears.

In that moment, I knew Matteo was out of my reach.

With a few simple sentences, he had wiped away my decade of silent dedication to the family.

My hard-earned achievements were just feathers in Elena's cap, her promotion, her raise, her newfound power.

I let out a soft, bitter laugh, barely audible.

I stepped out of the meeting room, pulled out my phone, and dialed a number I had not touched in ages, but knew by heart.

The moment it was picked up, I asked without emotion, "Is the Consigliere spot still open?"

A low chuckle answered, "Always has been, just for you!"

Sensing my quiet, Anthony Greco's voice softened, tinged with concern, "How've you been all these years?

"I remember asking you to join me on this journey, but you turned me down. I invited you into the fold, and again, you said no. After a decade, the wait is over!

"Isabella Moretti, welcome aboard!"

Anthony's voice was tinged with urgency. "When can you make it?"

"Five days from now. I've got some loose ends to tie up, but I'll be there in five days," I replied with conviction.

"Alright. I'll see you in five days."

I hung up and immediately called to cancel the elaborate plans for the anniversary celebration.

I left the house, drove to the attorney's office, drafted the divorce papers, and returned home.

Opening the door, I found Matteo brooding on the couch, his suit jacket carelessly draped over the armrest, a cigar burning down to his fingers, seemingly unnoticed.

I strode past him as he asked with a hint of annoyance, "No dinner? The house is a mess. Where have you been?"

My eyes caught the ash strewn across the coffee table, a stark contrast to the untouched ashtray.

It took me back to our early days when he had said, "Isabella, I prefer a world just for us with no one else around."

So, in our sprawling home, there were no maids, I was the sole keeper of our castle.

He never acknowledged my efforts, his cigar ash never found its way to the ashtray, as if it were merely for show.

I had once reveled in his words, "Isabella, I don't care for restaurant meals, only yours," and would joyfully prepare his favorite dishes.

Back in my family's home, I was the pampered Principessa, cherished without condition, my hands never soiled by work.

I had watched those cooking videos over and over for Matteo, mastering each step until my dishes did not just match the screen. They outdid it. However, Matteo had a sensitive stomach, so every morning, I would whip up a nutritious breakfast, my heart swelling with happiness as I cooked.

By noon, I would race home to make lunch, packing it neatly in a container to drop off at his desk.

If his evenings were free, he would come home to a house filled with the delicious smells of dinner. I was drunk on that homey aroma, convinced it was the scent of love-drawn happiness.

"Go cook, I'm hungry." Matteo's sharp words snapped me out of my reverie. "Throw in a few extra meat dishes today, and don't skimp on the desserts. Elena loves your sweets. I'll take them, we've got some last-minute family meetings tonight."

His words made me laugh. "Sorry, no dinner tonight. I'm beat!"

Matteo's brow creased at my uncharacteristically defiant reply. He stood and approached me with concern.

"Something wrong? Are you feeling okay?

"I got you a gift.

"Here, let me put it on you."

"Knowing you're not one for flashy presents, I had the Underboss hit up all the big luxury brands six months ago to get your anniversary present sorted.

"Do you like it?"

At a glance, I recognized the mini ear studs from the jewelry store, the ones thrown in with the purchase of that fancy green jade necklace.

I nearly burst into laughter from sheer frustration, dodging his attempt to adorn me with the studs.

I settled onto the armchair, responding to my family's messages in our group chat.

Then, my phone pinged with bank notifications, one after another.

The first was a whopping 200 million dollars from my parents' joint account, a generous token of their love.

The day's gloom lifted in an instant with a flurry of texts.

80 million dollars from my eldest brother, another 80 million dollars from the second, and 50 million dollars from the youngest. My eyes brimmed with tears, the weight of the day's worries washed away by my family's barrage of good news.

Then, came that voice, tinged with irritation and command.

"Why are you just sitting there? The laundry's piling up, and there's no dinner on the table. What's gotten into you now?

"I've been slaving away for the family all day, and I come home to no hot meal and your sour face."

I could not help but snort. "You've already eaten, haven't you? I'm not just talking about food."

Matteo frowned, puzzled. "What are you on about? I'm out there busting my back for us, to give you a better life.

"You don't care about me, always on edge," he continued, his words hitting me like a ton of bricks.

For a decade, I was the first up and the last to bed. While Matteo was lost in dreams, I was up at dawn, whipping up a hearty breakfast.

By day, I was the 'assistant' at the family firm, doing the grunt work of a Soldato. Every multimillion-dollar deal was the product of my sleepless nights and strategic thinking.

At night, as Matteo drifted off, I was still at work, laundering his shirts, ironing, cleaning up, laying out his suits and ties along with his matching cufflinks for the next day.

Ten years of that routine had truly worn me down. Had it not been for love, I would have thrown in the towel long ago.

I grabbed the Antinori Grappa from the table and took a hefty swig.

Matteo's expression darkened as he grabbed the glass from my hand and questioned, "What are you doing? You know you can't drink if we're trying for a baby, right?"

He noticed my flushed cheeks and realized something was off.

He came over and sat down next to me, gently taking my hand that felt like it was on fire.

Matteo's voice was soft as he asked, "What's going on with you? Why are you hitting the bottle so hard? Did you forget we're trying to start a family?"

I could not focus, my head was spinning, and I stayed silent.

Matteo watched me, his face a mix of frustration and forced patience. "I get that trying for a baby is stressful, but you can't just trash your health."

I did not say anything. Instead, I slid the divorce papers I had drawn up across the table to him.

"I know you're swamped, so I spared you the hassle of drafting these. Just sign at the bottom."

Matteo's face fell. "Divorce? Why? Is this because I gave Elena an extra glance at the meeting?"

I kept my voice steady.

"Yeah, because of that glance. Isn't that enough?"

"Just sign it, okay? I'm not going to squabble with your secretary over who gets what. I'm walking away empty-handed. Just sign it.

"You're worried about your secretary going hungry? Get her a nanny. Problem solved."

Matteo's hands balled into fists, and he glared at me, his voice booming.

"There's nothing going on with her! You're the one who brought her in, remember? You said she was good at her job, that she'd help me out."

"Sure, I said she'd help with the work," I replied.

"I didn't say she should help you in bed. You told me you needed to secure your spot at the helm before we could go public with us. For that, I waited in the wings for ten years. I took peanuts for pay, did the grunt work, and made you a fortune.

"How did you repay me when you finally made it? The moment you had the chance, you gave your secretary way too much power. I told you right from the start, I won't stand for any lies or deceit.

"If I'm not in your eyes, then I'd rather not be at all!"

Matteo's face darkened. "She's just my secretary. If there was anything going on, don't you think it would've happened by now? Stop causing a scene."

I massaged my aching eyes and said to him with a steady voice. "This isn't a scene. I'm calmly telling you that I'm done with you!

"Sign the divorce papers when you get a chance, and then get the family's Underboss to give me a call. I'll have someone pick them up."

I watched him crush his cigar against the marble table in a fit of rage, almost reminding him out of habit.

However, it hit me that we were getting divorced.

Why bother with his indifference to all my efforts and sacrifices, as if they were invisible to him?

Then, it all made sense. His neglect was just his way of showing I was never really in his heart.

I let out a bitter chuckle and headed for the bedroom.

Matteo's angry voice followed me. "Isabella, I've let you get away with too much over the years. Just stay home and think things through."

He stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

My head was spinning, my body alternating between burning up and chilling to the bone. I was running a high fever.

I fumbled for some painkillers in the drawer, took it, and buried myself under the covers to sleep it off.

Waking up the next afternoon, I checked my phone and did not receive a single call. Matteo had not come back last night, nor had he bothered to call.

I collected my papers and returned to the closet, my eyes resting on the few lonely items of clothing that were mine, tucked away in a corner.

I could not suppress a chuckle as I firmly grabbed my purse and left behind the place that had been my cage for a decade.

Telling people I divorced Matteo because he looked too long at his secretary could seem a bit far-fetched.

However, I was the only one who knew the depth of love hidden in that fleeting glance.

It was a secret that only Matteo and I shared.

We met when he was having a rough time at school.

His family had cut him off, and he ended up as the new kid at our school.

Caught in the middle of family feuds, he became a target for bullies, all aiming to crush him.

His deep eyes caught mine the moment he stood up to introduce himself in class.

He got stuck with a desk in the back corner.

On his way there, he tripped at least seven times.

One evening, as I got to school, I saw a bunch of kids rushing toward the alley out back.

Lucy Thompson, my classmate, out of breath, stopped me and said, "Isabella, they're saying the new guy is getting the tar beaten out of him in the alley. Let's go check it out."

She pulled me along to the alley, and right as we got there, I heard someone shout, "You think you can steal my girl, you bastard?"

Then I saw Matteo on the ground, getting whaled on by a gang with sticks.

He was a mess, sprawled out and barely hanging on.

"I didn't," he managed to force out the words, his voice a mix of pain and defiance.

He was so new, he did not even know who was who, let alone steal someone's girl.

David Gerome, as if on cue, gave him a couple more kicks.

Matteo's muffled groans filled the air again.

The crowd of students watched, but no one dared cross the bullies or step in.

They were not showing any signs of stopping.

If that kept up, Matteo was going to be destroyed.

"Police! They're here!"

I ducked behind my classmates and yelled out in the commotion. "Move!"

The gang was cursing up a storm, but they scattered in an instant.

I called my driver and bodyguard over, and we lifted Matteo into my car and rushed to the hospital.

Once the doctors had him stabilized and I had settled the bill, I headed home.

The next day back at school, I found a blue orchid, my favorite, waiting on my desk.

When I looked up, I saw his eyes. They had lost their dullness, replaced by a glimmer of something new.

I saw him again in the hallway on my way to the restroom.

He emerged, soaked to the skin, and upon spotting me, he bashfully looked down and scurried by.

A week later, I was walking off lunch in the campus grove when a chilling voice said, "Break his legs, then he won't dare challenge me again!"

I spotted a guy flipping a dagger with a nasty grin, grabbing a thigh-thick stick, and heading straight for Matteo.

Realizing it was Matteo in danger, I texted my bodyguard to hurry over.

The stick was poised to crash down on Matteo's knee.

"What the hell are you doing?" I yelled with all my strength.

They turned around, saw a young girl, and laughed mockingly.

"What, you want to get in on this?"

"This is a school, and what you're doing is wrong. It's bullying, and I'm telling a teacher."

I was stalling for time, waiting for my bodyguard.

Telling a teacher about such things on campus was pointless. They stayed out of our family's mafia business.

Then, someone recognized me as the Moretti family's Principessa and whispered it to the others.

The guy gave me a hard look, gestured, and the whole group scattered.

I rushed to Matteo's side and found him crumpled on the ground, his arm grotesquely twisted at his side. It was obviously broken.

His face was so swollen and bruised that it was almost unrecognizable, and a sharp twinge of sympathy stabbed at my heart.

Together, the bodyguard and driver helped me carry Matteo back to the villa I called home for the time being.

Our family doctor arrived in no time, gave Matteo a thorough examination, and fixed his broken arm.

Matteo was out cold the whole time.

The doctor assured us that, with plenty of rest, Matteo would be out of danger.

I knew he had no one else to care for him, so I did not opt for the hospital.