I was once the most respected intelligence officer in the underworld.

I controlled black market trade, port lockdowns, and risk assessments for every smuggling route.

These were the basics every new recruit learned on their first day in the Mafia.

But my intel was never reliable.

As time went by, everyone caught on.

In this city, whether the ports were locked down or open for business didn't depend on intel.

It depended on whether Vincenzo's childhood friend was in a bad mood.

I had just sent an order over the family's secure channel:

"Level-one lockdown. All shipping routes are closed."

A moment later, the ports were thrown wide open.

My rival mocked me in front of everyone.

"Isabella's supposed to be the queen of underworld intelligence, isn't she? What happened, did she lose her touch?"

Other family members twisted the knife without a second thought.

"Her husband changes the rules at a word from his precious Amelia. Who's going to listen to her anymore?"

"She's on the hook for any losses from this. That route reopening is going to bankrupt her!"

I clutched a stack of formal censures from the family. I said nothing.

It didn't matter. I was done being a pawn in their games.

Soon, I would be gone for good.

I was once the most respected intelligence officer in the underworld.

I controlled black market trade, port lockdowns, and risk assessments for every smuggling route.

These were the basics every new recruit learned on their first day in the Mafia.

But my intel was never reliable.

As time went by, everyone caught on.

In this city, whether the ports were locked down or open for business didn't depend on intel.

It depended on whether Vincenzo's childhood friend was in a bad mood.

I had just sent an order over the family's secure channel:

"Level-one lockdown. All shipping routes are closed."

A moment later, the ports were thrown wide open.

My rival mocked me in front of everyone.

"Isabella's supposed to be the queen of underworld intelligence, isn't she? What happened, did she lose her touch?"

Other family members twisted the knife without a second thought.

"Her husband changes the rules at a word from his precious Amelia. Who's going to listen to her anymore?"

"She's on the hook for any losses from this. That route reopening is going to bankrupt her!"

I clutched a stack of formal censures from the family. I said nothing.

It didn't matter. I was done being a pawn in their games.

Soon, I would be gone for good.

...

Vincenzo picked up the document I'd titled "Petition to Leave the Family," his eyes pausing on the words for a moment.

Then, he flicked the ash from his cigarette and chuckled.

"Isabella, my queen, who upset you?"

He rounded the large mahogany desk and circled behind me, his arms loosely wrapping around my waist.

His warm breath ghosted over my ear, carrying the scent of expensive cigars.

"Was it because the port wasn't locked down on your command tonight? Or was it that reckless underboss who disrespected you?"

"I'm serious," I said, pulling away from his embrace. "Vincenzo, I want out. Of the De Luca family, and our marriage."

His arms fell to his sides.

The indulgent smile on Vincenzo's face vanished.

After a beat of dead silence, he let out a soft laugh, but his eyes were stone-cold.

"Bella, don't be ridiculous. You don't want a repeat of the lesson you learned three years ago, do you?"

My heart seized.

Three years ago, I was issuing a level-one security alert across the entire New York underworld, warning all families to steer clear of the East Side docks.

But Vince, determined to celebrate Amelia's birthday, insisted on the city's most extravagant fireworks display for her, right on the East Side.

Then he cut off all my intel feeds.

The docks became a bloodbath, and I was made to look like the most incompetent intelligence officer in the Mafia.

I was berated by the family elders until I couldn't even lift my head, and I received the first formal censure of my career.

It ended when I discovered that the core intelligence network I had painstakingly built for five years had been forcibly opened to "Guest Mode" by Vincenzo for Amelia.

She had whimsically altered my escape routes that night, causing my most loyal intelligence unit to be wiped out.

I snapped that day. I stormed the party with a Colt revolver and pressed the muzzle to Amelia's forehead.

Back then, Vincenzo calmly took the gun from my hand and removed the magazine.

"You know Amelia is fragile, like a child. That would frighten her."

His long fingers brushed my cheek. "But you're different, Bella. You are my wife, the Donna of the De Luca family. You're supposed to be stronger than this, more understanding."

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

Seeing my silence, Vincenzo thought I was scared.

He stood and pulled a velvet box from his pocket, opening it.

Inside lay a dazzling diamond bracelet.

He'd won it at an auction the day before.

Every woman in New York said the Don of the De Luca family was madly in love with his wife, but only I knew this was the peace offering he made every time he overrode my orders for Amelia.

This diamond bracelet was the 29th piece of jewelry I had received, one for each of the 29 formal censures I'd earned.

He grabbed my wrist and clasped the bracelet on, his movements leaving no room for argument.

The cold touch of the metal felt like a pair of shackles.

"Don't take it off again. It belongs only to you."

Vincenzo bent his head to kiss the back of my hand, then spoke softly.

"Amelia feels that doing business is too boring lately. She's interested in intelligence analysis."

"Give her your master control codes. Let her go in and play around."

"I know you might not be happy about it, but... that title of First Intelligence Officer was granted by the family. I imagine you wouldn't want me to remove you from that position and put Amelia in your seat, would you?"

A chill ran down my spine.

He was using my pride, the one thing I valued more than my life, to turn me into a stepping stone for his childhood friend.

That was my blood and sweat, the glory I had earned through gunfire, and now he wanted to let a woman whose only skill was pouting go in and "play around."

He was so smart.

He knew exactly how to make a woman like me, one who valued dignity and professional honor above all else, bend to his will.

I suppressed the churning in my stomach and forced a stiff smile.

"Fine."

Vincenzo's lips curved in satisfaction. He was about to kiss me when his private cell phone rang. A custom ringtone.

The moment he turned to answer it, his entire demeanor shifted.

The suffocating pressure vanished, replaced by a deep well of patience and affection.

"What's wrong? Don't cry... Okay, I'll be right there."

I could hear Amelia's sickly sweet whining even through the phone, and it made my skin crawl.

After hanging up, he released me and strode out of the study.

Watching his back as he rushed off to another woman, I wiped away the single, worthless tear from the corner of my eye.

I took off the priceless bracelet and tossed it into the trash.

Then I took out the encrypted satellite phone and dialed the number.

"Get me out," I said, taking a deep breath. "I'm ready to honor our five-year pact."

A low, confident voice responded on the other end, and I hung up.

I couldn't quite describe it. My heart was a hollow ache, but in that emptiness, I was finally free.

I sometimes wonder if there's a limit to a person's self-debasement. I'm a prime example.

All those years ago, for a man who simply held an umbrella for me in the rain, I threw away an Ivy League education and a clean future, diving headfirst into a dark world I could never wash clean.

The Vincenzo back then wasn't the ruthless man he is today.

He would play jazz for me all night by the Hudson, get down on one knee, and swear I was the only thing he believed in.

The family elders looked down on me at first, mocking my humble origins and my ignorance of the underworld's rules.

Without a word, Vincenzo slapped a loaded Beretta on the table.

He even endured a whipping from the old Don that left him bloody and raw, but he never backed down.

I believed in those sincere, grey eyes.

To help him clean house within the family, I gambled with my career, single-handedly building the impregnable intelligence network we have today.

But all it took was one pout from Amelia, and he never chose me.

I'd confronted him more than once, asking why he crossed so many lines for Amelia.

He would just pin me beneath him, his fingers tracing the line of my spine.

"Jealous? Bella, I gave you entire docks when I was winning you over."

"Amelia and I have known each other for years. Is it too much to want to see her smile?"

In that moment, I understood.

Once he'd caught me, I went from his prey to his trophy. Something to be mounted on a wall for display, left to gather dust.

Tonight was the quarterly meeting of the family's inner circle.

As usual, I walked toward the seat reserved for the Donna, right next to the Don, but Vincenzo's hand landed on the back of the chair.

He didn't look at me. Instead, he turned to a timid-looking Amelia and waved her over.

"Amelia, come here. Sit."

"Donna, Vince said I could listen in on business matters. You don't mind, do you?"

She stared at the intelligence master key in my hand, her eyes full of greed and defiance.

I knew Vincenzo spoiled her.

But I never imagined he'd let her trample on the family's rules, on my dignity.

The meeting room fell silent. I looked at the man at the head of the table.

Vincenzo smiled nonchalantly and guided Amelia into the seat.

"Bella. Don't be so serious." He pointed to the far end of the long table. "You can sit over there for now."

Everyone knew that was the seat for new recruits.

I gave a self-mocking smile, said nothing, and walked over.

Throughout the meeting, Vincenzo listened intently as Amelia spouted her childish, laughable theories about my operations, letting out a low chuckle from time to time.

I once believed that indulgent gaze was reserved for me and me alone.

And for the first time, I was invisible at a family meeting.

Midway through, Amelia petulantly swirled her wine glass.

"Vince, I'd like some of that estate red."

Vincenzo raised an eyebrow, his gaze shooting across the long table and landing squarely on me.

"Isabella. The bottle behind you. Go pour some for Amelia."

I froze. He was telling his wife, the family's Donna, the city's Safety Officer, to pour wine for an outsider?

The Capos around me, who once treated me with the utmost respect, were now whispering amongst themselves.

"Looks like the winds are changing in the De Luca family."

"What's a Donna? If it makes Amelia happy, she's just a glorified waitress."

"I'd say it's not just the Donna title. That Intelligence Officer position will be the girl's sooner or later."

Vincenzo watched me with a raised eyebrow, as if expecting my obedience.

"What are you waiting for? You're the closest. Just help her out."

He winked at me. "Don't be so serious, darling."

I fought back the burn in my eyes as I looked at the man I had loved so desperately for so many years.

The classified archives I hadn't yet secured were my only leverage. I had no choice but to stand, pick up the decanter, and walk over to Amelia.

The scarlet liquid poured into the glass, like blood.

Amelia took the glass, her fingertips deliberately brushing the back of my hand. She then glanced at Vincenzo, as if seeking his approval.

"See? I told you the Donna is a very kind woman. She's even pouring my wine herself."

Vincenzo smiled, satisfied. He wrapped an arm around my waist and placed a kiss on my forehead.

I set down the decanter, the nauseating, suffocating feeling making me want to flee.

"I'm going to the restroom."

Before Vincenzo could respond, I turned and walked briskly out of the meeting room, shutting the door on the absurdity within.

I ducked into the lounge, locked the door, and sagged against the cold marble wall, gasping for air.

My heart ached as if it were being squeezed by a merciless hand.

Just then, the encrypted satellite phone vibrated.

The screen lit up with an anonymous audio file.

As if in a trance, I pressed play.

"Vince! I typed the code randomly! I didn't expect the network to crash... That massacre could have been avoided..."

"I didn't mean to! I just wanted to see Isabella look stupid! Vince, you have to help me, the family elders will kill me..."

Amelia's voice was panicked. After a few seconds of static, Vincenzo's voice came through.

The voice I knew so well was still gentle, but now it was terrifyingly unfamiliar.

"Shh, don't cry, Mia."

"Here is a fund transfer to a Swiss account and a new identity. Go lay low for a while. I'll clean up the rest."

"As for Isabella… it's fine. Let her take the heat. She's tough, she can handle it."

The audio cut off.

The phone slipped from my hand and clattered to the floor.

The file was dated three years ago. The day the docks ran red with blood.

It wasn't a system malfunction at all. Amelia was the culprit.

And my husband, to protect his childhood friend, had personally branded me as incompetent.

I stumbled back, my body colliding with a familiar chest.

Vincenzo was already standing behind me, his deep eyes unreadable.

"Isabella, are you spying on me?"

His brow furrowed, his handsome face tight with the annoyance of being disturbed.

He had seen everything.

"So, what was on that audio... it's all true?"

My voice trembled, my nails digging into my palms.

Even then, a pathetic part of me hoped he would say it was a fake, that the audio had been doctored to tear us apart.

Vincenzo was silent.

He avoided my gaze, taking out a cigar cutter and methodically trimming a cigar that wasn't there.

My heart, along with my last shred of hope, shattered.

The next second, he stepped forward, pulling my ice-cold body into a rigid embrace.

That hug, which had once been my greatest comfort, now made me sick to my stomach.

He whispered in my ear, his tone as gentle as if he were soothing a pouting child.

"Bella, it's all in the past. You've seen for yourself, even though I let you take the fall, your position has remained secure, hasn't it? Haven't I been good enough to you?"

"But Amelia is different. She's young. She couldn't handle the pressure of being universally condemned."

I looked up at him in disbelief, my throat feeling as if it were lined with rusty razor blades, each word a searing pain.

On that night three years ago, I watched the bodies of my men being carried out one by one, kneeling in a pool of blood, weeping. It was Vincenzo who had held me back.

He had sworn in my ear, "Bella, don't go. It's dangerous. Leave it to me. The mole who sabotaged the system... I swear I'll tear that bastard limb from limb."

I had cried until I nearly passed out, smearing tears and snot all over his expensive, bespoke suit.

He had patted my back again and again, saying, "It's okay, I'm here."

I was naive enough to believe my husband was my hero.

But while he wiped away my tears, he was turning around to destroy all the operation logs for the real culprit.

My blood ran cold, my rage freezing into a silent, brittle thing.

Just then, the lounge door was thrown open.

Amelia burst in, her hands covering her face, looking like a cornered rabbit.

"Donna, I'm begging you, please stop threatening me with that audio... I really didn't mean for it to happen..."

"Please stop hitting me, it really hurts..."

She let her hands fall, as if by accident.

A bright red handprint was already swelling on her pale cheek.

It was obvious the mark wasn't from my hand, but Vincenzo bought it completely.

He cupped Amelia's face, his eyes full of pain. When he turned to look at me, the last of his patience evaporated.

"Isabella, is this how you threaten her behind my back? Have you no decency?"

In that moment, the dignity of the Donna, the respect for the intelligence officer, it all became a joke.

I fought to keep the tears from falling.

"I didn't touch her," I said, my voice choked with a sob. "If you feel so bad for her, then sign the papers."

I pulled the "Petition to Leave the Family" from my bag and slapped it hard against his chest.

The papers rustled loudly.

The men crowded in the doorway gasped when they saw the title.

Vincenzo stared at me, his eyes filled with disbelief, as if he couldn't comprehend how determined I was about this.

"You're serious? Over this?"

"Isabella, without the De Luca family, without this platform, where will you display all your intelligence skills? Are you sure you want to ruin the rest of your life for some pointless pride?"

I met his gaze and said, word by word:

"For the past three years, I have lived like a dog at your feet."

That crossed the line. Enraged, he snatched a pen and scrawled his name on the agreement, the force of his pen nearly tearing through the paper.

"You asked for this, Isabella. Don't come crawling back to me."

He then threw the papers in my face, wrapped an arm around Amelia's shoulder, and strode out.

The sharp edge of the paper cut my cheek, drawing a line of blood.

His hand on the doorknob, he paused.

"Since you're leaving, you won't be taking anything that belongs to this family with you."

He opened the door and announced loudly to the crowd of high-ranking family members who had been eavesdropping.

"As of today, Isabella is removed from her post as Chief Intelligence Officer. All clearances and keys are to be transferred to Amelia immediately."

That night, Vincenzo didn't come home.

The gossip columns and society pages were flooded with updates about him.

He took Amelia to New York's most exclusive charity gala, introducing her to all the city's political and business elites.

Just as he had done for me five years ago, when he'd taken my hand and elevated me to that same position.

And now, he was using the family's contacts in the press to hint that I was unstable and no longer fit to manage the intelligence network.

I was only now realizing just how terrifying this man could be.

If he couldn't control me, he would destroy me.

The television showed Amelia on his arm, smiling radiantly. I turned off the screen with a blank expression and started packing.

I didn't want a single thing from this place.

Late at night, my phone shattered the silence with a frantic ring.

It was the highest-level alert from the Intelligence Archive.

"Ms. Isabella! It's Amelia! She's taken men and is breaking into Archive One in the North District!"

"That's where you keep all the original files and source data! They've cut the security…"

My breath hitched.

Without a second thought, I grabbed my car keys and the Glock from under the bed, then ran out into the rain-swept darkness.