With Thanksgiving approaching, I planned a private island trip for my family's inner circle.

The private jet was ready, all for a few precious moments of family time.

But on the day of our departure, my husband and son were nowhere to be found.

I contacted my husband Caspian's assistant. On the other end of the line, his voice was strained. "The Don is handling an urgent family matter." Then he hung up abruptly.

The next day, a gossip rag headline gave me my answer.

In the photo, Caspian—the Don of the Serrano family, the king of the Chicago underworld—had one arm wrapped around his late brother's widow, Miley. His other hand was holding our son Adrian’s. The background was a luxurious ski resort in Aspen, their bodies intimately close.

The family spokesman's official explanation, printed below the photo, was that "the Donna has taken ill and is resting at the estate."

The now-useless flight plan lay on the table.

Ten years of marriage, ten years of loyalty.

An elaborately orchestrated scam.

It was time to bring the curtain down.

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1

I stared at the photo, a bitter, metallic taste flooding my mouth.

I had stood by Caspian Serrano's side as he fought his way through bloody infighting, using my father's wisdom and my family's influence to help him secure the title of Don.

For ten years we stood shoulder to shoulder, and I thought we were an unbreakable alliance.

It turned out I was just a symbol, a tool he used to consolidate his power.

I was just a stand-in, a placeholder for the woman he could never have.

Trembling, I stumbled toward a room deep within the estate.

The "Matteo Memorial Room."

In ten years of marriage, he had never let me set foot inside.

He said it was a place for him to remember his older brother, a sanctuary that could not be disturbed.

I believed him. I never once doubted it.

The door was unlocked. With a gentle push, a wave of stale air washed over me.

The room's furnishings were solemn and sparse, containing only a massive ebony table and an empty display cabinet.

However, there wasn't a single photograph of Matteo to be found.

Instead, I found a large, hidden compartment concealed behind one of the walls.

The moment I opened it, a bone-deep chill pierced my heart.

There wasn't a single memento of his brother inside.

It was filled entirely with portraits Caspian had painted of Miley.

A teenage Miley, looking over her shoulder in the sunlight on the shores of Lake Como.

A college-aged Miley, holding a bouquet of daisies on the streets of Florence.

Miley in a wedding dress…

My eyes burned with a fiery pain.

Through my blurry vision, I saw that deep inside the compartment, he had also treasured old trinkets she had used years ago.

Miley was his brother Matteo's wife.

There were also several notebooks in the compartment. I opened one, each word I read a fresh cut from a knife:

[I saw her again today. She was wearing the dress Matteo gave her, a rose armed with thorns. I wish I had been the one to offer her that bouquet.]

[Matteo said he's going to propose. I drank all night. I should be happy for him. Why does my heart feel like it's been gouged out?]

[They're married. She's my sister-in-law. Every time I have to call her that, it's like swallowing glass.]

Page after page, line after line, it was all his secret, twisted, and overwhelming obsession with Miley.

He had loved her long before Matteo, long before me, and long before our ten-year marriage, which had been nothing but a pawn in his game.

When I met Caspian, Matteo was already gone. I knew nothing of the past.

So… Caspian had been lying to me for ten whole years.

You only get so many years in this life. How could he throw a decade of mine away like it was nothing?

I couldn't read anymore and slammed the notebook shut. I snatched the most precious portrait in the compartment—the one of Miley in her wedding dress. Flames licked the canvas, devouring that innocent, smiling face.

With burning eyes, I watched it turn to ash.

The fire reflected in my eyes was my own heart, burning down to scorched earth.

I don't know how much time passed. When the flames finally died out, leaving a black scorch mark on the wall, my strength gave out and I collapsed to the floor.

A long time later, I called my best friend, Chloe Vance. "Chloe, I'm leaving the Family. Didn't you say you needed a partner in Miami? I'm in."

Chloe was stunned for a moment, then her voice firmed with resolve. "I'll get everything arranged. I'll be waiting for you, whenever you're ready."

After hanging up, I called the lawyer renowned for handling "difficult matters" and told him to draw up the dissolution papers immediately. I was leaving the Serrano family.

I had just put my phone down when the screen lit up again.

A photo arrived from an encrypted number.

It was Miley, wearing the Serrano family heirloom ring that I was supposed to inherit. Her hand rested on Caspian's chest, a silent claim, followed by a line of provocative text.

[Some things are fated to return to their rightful owners.]

[Aurelia Valeriano, you've occupied my place for ten years. It's time to give it back.]

How ridiculous.

Miley had been the one to choose to marry Matteo, and now she was blaming me for taking her place?

So I replied: [If that were truly the case, you wouldn't need to prove a thing to me.]

[Only trash treasures a traitor.]

She didn’t reply.

I snorted and forwarded the exchange to my lawyer.

The next afternoon, Caspian returned with our son, Adrian. Miley trailed behind them, hiding behind Caspian and looking pitiful, as if I were about to tear her to shreds.

I asked coldly, "What is she doing here?"

A flash of panic crossed Caspian's eyes before it was replaced by impatience. "Let's not argue in front of the child. We'll talk inside. Miley is a widow of the Family. She just got back and has nowhere to go. It's not safe for her out there alone, so she'll stay here for a few days."

Miley chimed in, her voice soft, but the challenge in her eyes was unmistakable. "I've been so lonely abroad all these years. Now that I'm back, I feel safer with family."

I gave a cold laugh, my gaze shifting between them. "Family? I think the word 'mistress' is more appropriate."

"Aurelia!" Caspian's voice cracked like a whip. "What nonsense are you spouting?! Miley is my late brother's widow! How dare you speak like that!"

I looked him straight in the eye, unflinching. "Do my words bother you? What about your actions? Caspian, we've been married for ten years, and you never told me about your feelings for her. You disappeared without a word, ditching our family trip to take her on vacation. Do you dare say your feelings for her are pure?"

Caspian's face darkened, and he scoffed. "So you're determined to be unreasonable, is that it? It was one trip, Aurelia. The island isn't going anywhere. Must you make such a scene?"

Miley added her own performance, her tone suggesting a great injustice. "Aurelia, you've misunderstood us. Caspian was just taking pity on me, all alone..."

I cut her off. "No one asked you to speak."

I turned back to Caspian, my voice dangerously low. "This estate is mine as much as it is yours. I have the right to decide who stays. Now, tell her to get out."

Caspian's patience finally snapped. "Aurelia, be reasonable!" he roared. "Protecting a widow of the Family is my duty! She's alone, with no one! How can you be so cold-hearted?"

I stood frozen for a long moment, the ache in my chest hardening into rage. "When my father was assassinated, did you spare a single thought for how helpless I was? When I was handling the funeral arrangements all by myself, where were you?"

The mention of my father made his anger falter.

Six months ago, my father, the family's former Consigliere, was assassinated by a rival faction during an outing.

At the time, I was drowning in panic. I called Caspian, who was abroad, and he just gave me a hollow promise to rush back as soon as possible.

By the time he returned, my father's funeral was already over. He just hugged me and murmured a few empty words of comfort.

And our son, Adrian, had excitedly pulled on my hand, chattering about all the fun things he did on his trip.

"Mamma, why are you bringing that up again?" Adrian's voice pulled me back to the present. He glared at me with disgust. "Why are you always fighting with Papa? Aunt Miley never does. She's gentle and beautiful, and she even took me skiing. I don't like you."

A child's words, spoken without malice, are often the cruelest. Especially from the son I had raised with my own two hands.

I smiled, but my eyes swam with tears.

Adrian just pouted. "You're always controlling me, never letting me touch the weapons or join the family training. You're a disgrace to the family! I want Aunt Miley to be my mom!"

Hearing this, a triumphant smirk bloomed on Miley's face. She crouched down, hugging him with sickeningly sweet sincerity. "Adrian, sweetie. How can you talk to your Mamma like that? But... since you like me so much, you can call me 'Mom' from now on."

She shot me a provocative look, as if showing off a prize.

A wave of bone-deep exhaustion washed over me.

Ten years of my love, erased by a few sweet lies.

Suddenly, none of it mattered anymore.

I took out the dissolution papers I’d already had drawn up and threw them on the table in front of Caspian. "Sign them. Then we're even."

Caspian was stunned, still thinking I was just challenging his authority. "Aurelia, are you out of your mind? You're going to leave the Family over a canceled vacation? Can you stop being so childish?"

Adrian rushed over, pounding on my legs with his little fists. "Bad Mamma! You're betraying the Family! I hate you!"

Miley immediately stepped forward to pull Adrian away, playing the saint. "Aurelia, please don't be angry. This is all my fault. If you really can't stand the sight of me, I'll leave right now..."

Her sanctimonious act made my stomach churn.

I slapped her hard across the face. "The one thing I can't stand," I said coldly, "is a phony."

Miley shrieked, clutching her reddening cheek.

Caspian surged forward, shielding her behind him as he roared at me, "You crazy bitch!"

Just then, Adrian charged and gave me a hard shove. "You're a bad person! Don't you dare bully Aunt Miley!"

Caught off guard, my head slammed against the stone base of the fireplace. I hissed in pain as I slid to the floor, my vision blacking out for a second.

Caspian didn't even glance my way. "Stop faking it!" he shouted impatiently. "Don't be so dramatic. Adrian doesn't have the strength to hurt you."

Then, he helped Miley up, his voice softening. "Are you alright? Let's get you to your room. Ignore this madwoman."

I watched their retreating backs, and silent tears finally streamed down my cheeks.

So this is what it feels like for a heart to die.

Not long after, Caspian burst out of the memorial room, his eyes blazing. "Aurelia! You went into my memorial room? And you set a fire?"

I looked up, my expression as still as a stagnant pool. "Yes. I burned it. Why? Was there something in there that couldn't see the light of day?"

He froze. Then, his tone softened. "Fine. I won't hold it against you. You've had your tantrum, right? Miley isn't well and needs a peaceful environment. You can move to the side wing for a few days."

I let out a bitter laugh. His concession was just a tactic to make room for his mistress. "Caspian," I said, my voice flat. "Sign the papers."