I married Don Matteo in secret.

Every time he fucked his childhood sweetheart, he promised me a real wedding，in front of the Five Families.

For five years, Matteo promised me ninety-nine times.

And ninety-nine times, he left me at the altar.

The first time, Cecilia’s prize-winning show cat died.

To comfort her, he postponed the wedding for three months.

I stood at the altar alone, eyes red, trying to calm down the family elders.

The second time, Cecilia threw a tantrum at a casino and shattered a hundred-million-dollar antique vase.

He diverted the private jet meant for their wedding and rushed through the night to clean up her mess.

And every time, right before our wedding, his childhood sweetheart would have some kind of emergency.

I cried. I screamed. I even held a gun to his head.

But Matteo would just pin me against the wall and shut me up with a cold, hard kiss.

“She’s just a fuck. You are Mrs. Falcone. Have some goddamn class.”

After the ninety-ninth time, I was finally done.

I slid the papers across the table. The ink was still wet, the Falcone family seal stamped at the bottom.

“Our marriage, our alliance—it’s over.”

For the ninety-eighth time, Matteo missed our wedding rehearsal.

This time, it was to celebrate taking over the Moretti family's arms territory.

His mistress, Cecilia, threw him a lavish party.

Three hours in, my guy Tony, who was inside, sent me the first encrypted message.

In the video, Matteo stood in the middle of a private club, champagne flute in his hand.

All the family Capos were circling him and Cecilia like they were royalty.

Amid the cheers, Matteo downed his champagne, pulled Cecilia into his arms, and kissed her in front of everyone.

His hands cupped her face as he kissed her, deep and hard, like he wanted to devour her.

For what felt like an eternity.

Someone in the crowd whistled. Others clapped.

Cecilia’s cheeks were flushed, her hands clutching Matteo’s suit jacket.

Then Matteo swept her up and carried her toward a private room in the back.

Before the door even closed, you could hear Cecilia moaning.

“God, you look beautiful tonight. I can’t wait to have you.”

“It’s been a week, Matteo… I need you.”

The smack of a hand on an ass, a cry of pleasure, and the slam of the door all at once.

The crowd outside the door just laughed.

“Looks like the Boss is gonna have an heir soon.”

“It’s no secret he’s addicted to her body. We all know where this is going. She’ll be Mrs. Falcone.”

”Alright, leave them to it. Let’s get back to our drinks.”

Mrs. Falcone. They called her Mrs. Falcone.

I’d been his secret wife for five years, and no one knew I was the real Mrs. Falcone.

They all thought that bitch was the only one.

I shut off the video. My stomach churned and I ran to the bathroom, dry-heaving over the toilet.

Nothing came up. I hadn’t eaten properly in three days.

I had no more tears to cry. This thing between us had to end.

At 3 a.m., I got word the party was over. I stood at the gates of the Falcone estate, waiting for him with the papers I’d prepared.

The armored car pulled up slowly, its body gleaming under the moonlight.

Matteo got out of the driver's side, his suit jacket slung over his arm, the top three buttons of his white shirt undone.

His hair was a mess. His lips were swollen.

In the passenger seat, Cecilia was curled up on the leather, tell-tale stains high on the inside of her thighs, visible on the silk of her dress.

She was passed out drunk, a satisfied smile on her face.

“She had too much to drink,” Matteo said casually when he saw me.

“Should I call one of the maids for her?” I asked.

“No. I’m just dropping something off. I’ll take her to her apartment after.”

Such a considerate man. Too bad he was my husband.

I remembered a night two years ago.

A rival family attacked us at a gala. A bullet flew toward Matteo, and I dove in front of him without a second thought.

It tore through my shoulder, my blood soaking my white gown.

After I was rescued, Matteo frowned at me with pure disgust and said, “Your blood is too filthy. I can’t let it ruin my leather seats. Find your own way home.”

That day, he left me alone outside the estate. I walked for three hours before I finally got home.

But tonight, a drunk Cecilia got to lie peacefully in his passenger seat. He didn’t seem to mind the stench of alcohol at all.

Turns out, all his rules were only made for me.

“Are you still coming to the wedding tomorrow?”

Matteo hesitated for a moment, then said reluctantly,“Postpone it. Cecilia drank too much tonight and has a headache. She needs me to take care of her.”

“Postpone it until when?”

“Next month. Or the month after.” He stopped and turned to face me. “What’s the difference?”

None at all. Because there’s no wedding to postpone anymore.

I pulled the folded papers from my purse.

"Please sign this document."

Matteo took the file without even looking at it.

He pulled out a pen and scribbled his name on the signature lines.

“Done,” he said, handing the papers back. “I’ll have the chef make you white truffle risotto tomorrow. To make it up to you.”

And with that, he got back in his car and drove away.

…

The next time Matteo came home, it was noon the following day.

He stood in front of the full-length mirror, Take off the shirt stained with Cecilia's perfume.

Suddenly, he stopped what he was doing.

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes meeting mine in the reflection.

“What did you have me sign yesterday?”

I looked up, a flicker of emotion in my eyes before they went dead calm again.

“You didn’t ask then. You’re asking now?”

“Just a thought. Besides, you’re my wife. What, am I supposed to be scared you’ll ruin me?” Matteo laughed, a cruel confidence in his smile.

I lowered my eyes to hide the sarcasm.

“Aren’t you afraid I had you sign over the Falcone family assets? Or maybe… our divorce papers?”

Matteo’s heart clenched.

He seemed a little flustered and displeased..

“Are you kidding me?”

He strode over to me and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him.

“Natalia,” he said, His voice was low and dangerous. "If you dare leave me..."

“What would you do?” I asked.

Matteo looked at me, tenderness and madness intertwined in his eyes.

“I will break your pretty wings with my own hands and trap you by my side. I will never let you leave me.”

His thumb caressed my cheek, a touch that was both gentle and possessive.

“Because you’re mine, Natalia.”

“I can't leave you.If I really have to choose one, I'd rather it be the asset transfer papers.”

I smiled and nodded.

I knew he meant it. That twisted devotion of his was real, too.

And that’s why my little “joke”… was also real.

What he just signed was not the asset transfer documents at all.

They were about the dissolution of our alliance.

And our divorce.

After five years, my marriage to Matteo is finally coming to an end.

The next afternoon, I met the Falcone family's lawyer, James, and formally requested the return of all Rossi family assets.

James looked up. His face was pure shock.

“You’re certain? You want to pull all legitimate businesses from the Falcone portfolio?”

“But… under your management, their value has tripled in five years. Why so suddenly…”

He trailed off. I dropped my gaze.

Before yesterday, I’d believed that too.

These businesses were my tools. I used them to launder every dollar of Matteo’s bloody empire.

I remembered three years ago, Matteo holding me in our penthouse overlooking Lake Michigan as the sunset painted the city gold.

“See all those skyscrapers?” he’d said, pointing. “Half of that comes from my casinos and my deals. But without you, it’s all just blood money.”

He kissed my neck, his voice low and intoxicating. “You’re my best strategist, Natalia. This empire is nothing without you.”

Back then, I believed him.

I used my head for business to wash every dirty dollar he made.

Casino cash became art investments. Profits from underground deals became real estate developments.

I built him a legitimate empire.

“Mrs. Falcone?” James’s voice pulled me back.

“Obey the order. I want all the documents on my desk by tomorrow afternoon.”

After confirming the procedures, I walked out of his office.

The moment I got back in my car, my encrypted phone buzzed.

When I opened it, it was a photo from Cecilia..

It was her, kissing a sleeping Matteo. Her swollen breasts were pressed against his chest.

Right after the photo came a message.

“Had to ‘take care of me’ all night after I drank too much. Now he’s left his marks all over me. Ugh, so sore.”

I thought about all the other times.

Cecilia always provoked me like this, sending intimate photos.

The lipstick marks on Matteo’s bare chest, a woman's watch on his wrist, a piece of lingerie left in his car…

Before, her cheap tricks would always set me off.

Matteo and I would fight. We’d even gotten physical.

And every time, he’d shut me up with a rougher kiss, a more possessive grip.

“I told you, she’s just for fun. For the thrill of it. You’re Mrs. Falcone. Don’t lose your composure over a whore.”

Matteo was sure I loved him. He was even more sure that I wouldn’t dare leave him, for the sake of our families' alliance. So he did whatever he wanted.

I smiled, but all I felt inside was a wasteland.

When I returned to the Falcone estate, the butler, Marcus, greeted me.

“Ma’am, Miss Cecilia is here......and she’s in the Boss’s study now.”

I stopped in my tracks.

That oak-paneled room. Matteo’s private sanctuary.

Priceless oil paintings on the walls, exquisite revolvers on the shelves.

When I first secretly married Matteo, he never let me in there.

Until one drunken night, he carried me into the study and promised me a grand wedding.

That night, he pulled up my dress and pressed me against the cold desk.

Papers scattered across the floor, but nothing could stop him from entering me.

“Isn’t this a thrill, Lia?” he’d whispered in my ear, thrusting hard.

His sweat dripped onto my skin.

He held me and promised softly, “After the wedding, this room is yours alone. I swear, I’ll never let anyone else into our secret space.”

But now, he’d let Cecilia in without a second thought.

The me from back then was so pitifully stupid, deceived by his sweet words again and again. Foolishly, I let him lie to me ninety-eight times.

“Marcus,” I said, looking at the nervous butler.

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“The rules have changed,” I cut him off. “From now on, there are no rules for her.”

I walked toward the master bedroom on the second floor, each step light and slow.

The divorce papers, signed by Matteo himself, felt warm in my hand.

From downstairs, I heard Cecilia scream. A scream of pleasure, of climax.

Then, Matteo’s low laugh.

I thought of him signing the papers last night, distracted, his mind already on his way to Cecilia.

He never even read them.

Because it never occurred to him that I would want to leave him.

For five years, I had endured every betrayal, every humiliation, every broken promise.

He thought I would endure it forever.

He was wrong.

There wouldn’t be a next time.

I went back to the bedroom and looked at the closets full of clothes.

Every single piece held a memory, a broken promise.

The red silk evening gown. Matteo said the color was like blood, like a rose, like his love for me.

The white cashmere coat. He bought it for me in Paris, said it would protect me from the Chicago cold.

The black lace lingerie, his favorite…

Every one of them was a monument to a lie.

I started to pack, then stopped. These clothes weren't mine. They were costumes for a life that was a lie. He could keep them.

“Natalia.”

An hour later, Matteo’s voice came from downstairs, low and tired.

My hand froze in mid-air.

“Make me the tea and bring it to the study,” he said. “I have a long night ahead of me.”

The calming tea.

For years, whenever Matteo had trouble with business or insomnia after an attack from a rival family, he’d have me make it for him.

I’d made it for him countless times.

And every time, he’d say only my tea could help him sleep.

“I will,” I replied softly.

This would be the last time.

With a sigh, I stood up and went to the kitchen.

I didn’t expect to see Cecilia there.

When she saw me, a smirk played on her lips.

“Natalia, your patience is really something else. I thought you were going to storm in and rip my clothes off.”

As she spoke, she deliberately pushed out her chest, showing off the angry red hickey on her collarbone.

“Is that right?” I looked down, taking out the herbs one by one. “Would you like a cup? This batch just came in. Six thousand dollars a pound.”

My calmness threw her.

She looked me up and down like I was some kind of freak.

“Do you know why he needs that tea tonight?” Cecilia leaned against the counter, hiking her skirt up even higher. “Because we were going so wild in the study. He said you never get him that worked up.”

“And you want to know the real reason he married you? It was a bet. Between him and me.”

My hands stopped.

“What bet?” I turned to face her.

Cecilia’s smile grew wider. “A bet that if he married the Rossi family’s grieving little princess, he could get those old men in your family to hand over control of the docks.”

“And you know what the stakes were?” Cecilia went on. “I had to sleep with him 30 times. As long as you married him, willingly…”

“Cecilia, what the fuck are you talking about?!”

Matteo’s tall frame filled the kitchen doorway.

His face was a storm of panic and guilt, his eyes shooting daggers at Cecilia.

But Cecilia didn’t flinch. She just wrapped her arms around his neck.

“What did I say that was wrong? Matteo, you know you only agreed to this marriage to win the bet.”

Matteo’s expression was a mess.

He looked like he wanted to argue, but he just opened and closed his mouth, speechless.

His eyes darted away, unable to meet mine. Guilt and confusion were written all over his face.

I stood there, frozen, Cecilia’s words ringing in my ears.

Six years ago, my father died, leaving behind the docks and a massive fortune. Every family wanted a piece.

But I chose Matteo.

Because he saved my life when we were children. Because I’d been secretly in love with him for ten years.

I married him in secret, against the wishes of my family.

The day we registered our marriage, I was too excited to sleep.

I thought he’d finally noticed me. I thought that when he saved me all those years ago, it meant something. I thought he’d fallen for me, too.

Now, the brutal truth felt like a poisoned dagger, gutting every fantasy I ever had.

“Natalia…” Matteo started.

I knelt down and quietly picked up the scattered herbs.

“He won’t need the tea,” I said, standing up, my voice terrifyingly calm. “It looks like you’ll have him sleeping soundly tonight.”

Cecilia smirked in triumph. Matteo just stood there, his face a storm of emotions.

I turned to leave.

“Natalia, wait…” Matteo called after me.

I didn’t turn back. “Is there anything else you need to say? About the bet?”

“It’s not what you think…”

“Then what is it?” I spun around and stared into his eyes. “Matteo, look at me and tell me the truth. When you married me, was there ever a single moment you did it because you actually cared for me?”

He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Cecilia giggled beside him. “See? He admits it.”

I just nodded and turned away in silence.

Later that night, as I was getting ready for bed, my encrypted phone rang.

It was Matteo.

“Natalia, what Cecilia said this afternoon… she was just making it up. Don’t take it to heart.”

His voice was urgent, like he was terrified I’d believe her.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I understand everything now.”

“No, you don’t! Maybe it started with business, but I fell in love with you.”

Perhaps my overly calm demeanor made Matteo uneasy. He said anxiously.

“I swear, next month, I’ll give you a real wedding at Lake Como.”

I closed my eyes.

The same promise he’d been making for five years.

“Matteo,” I began.

“What?”

I was going to tell him the truth. “Are you free tomorrow? About the alliance agreement and our marriage…”