The Woman He Let Go Eight Times

My husband Dominic married me eight times, and divorced me eight times for the woman he truly loved, but there wouldn't be a ninth time today.

"Let's divorce. Your first love is here."

I placed the annulment papers on the mahogany desk, right over his keyboard. The study smelled of cigar smoke and old leather, the way every room in the Castellano compound eventually did, no matter how many times the staff aired it out.

Dominic didn't even blink. He just picked up his pen, signed his name with a lazy flick of his wrist, and tossed the document back to me.

"We'll have the ceremony again once she leaves after a month," he said, his eyes already back on his screen. "For now, just go on a vacay. Buy yourself something nice."

It was always like this. Gianna was a free spirit who despised the idea of marriage and being tied down. She preferred to drift between European safe houses and the villas of minor allied families, living completely carefree. But whenever she grew bored or lonely, she would return to the city, and Dominic would immediately clear his life for her — which meant annulling me.

Then, once her restlessness kicked in and she abandoned him again, he would summon me back to resume my role as his convenient, blood-bound placeholder.

I didn't say a word.

I just turned around, walked into our master bedroom, and pulled my suitcase from the closet. I started packing my clothes. Through the window, I could see the iron gate at the perimeter of the estate, the soldier stationed beside it watching the driveway with the blank patience of a man who'd stand there until he was told not to.

Usually, this was the part where I cried. The part where I begged him to look at me, to choose me, to explain why I was never enough.

Today, the room was dead silent.

Heavy footsteps suddenly stormed into the room. Before I could fold my last shirt, Dominic grabbed my arm and yanked me around to face him.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded, his jaw clenched tight. "Aren't you gonna say a word to me? Aren't you jealous? Gianna is here."

I gently pulled my arm out of his grip and turned back to my suitcase. "Well, yeah."

Dominic stared at me like I had lost my mind.

"What is wrong with you?" he barked, stepping into my space. "Are you cheating on me? Is that why you don't care?"

My hands paused on the zipper. I let out a short, dry laugh and looked him dead in the eye.

"Cheating?" I repeated. "Dominic, it's not like you love me."

He flinched, but I didn't stop.

"From the very beginning, it has always been business with us. We aren't husband and wife. We just have contracts and deals."

It was the ugly truth. I had agreed to his terms years ago because I needed money to support my mother's medical care at the Family's private clinic. The Castellanos had covered every bill, every specialist, every experimental treatment, and in return I had signed myself over like collateral on a loan that could never be repaid. I hadn't actually thought I'd fall for him, but I did, only to be disregarded ever since. But after everything, I finally knew I would never love him again.

Dominic's face darkened. His possessive anger flared. I watched his thumb find the signet ring on his right hand, the Castellano crest catching the lamplight as he turned it, slow and deliberate.

"If you dare betray me and have another man," he warned, his voice dropping into a lethal, cold whisper. "I swear, your mother will die."

I looked at his handsome, furious face.

"Okay," I said softly.

He didn't know. He had been so busy preparing for Gianna's arrival — having the guest wing opened, briefing his soldiers, making sure the compound was swept clean of anything that might remind her of obligation — that he hadn't even noticed my swollen eyes. He didn't know the clinic had called me three days ago.

My mother was already dead.

I snapped my suitcase shut, cutting off the conversation. "I'm leaving now. I'm just gonna stay with my friend."

"Don't get any ideas about ambushing us at the social club," he warned, his lip curling in disgust. "I won't tolerate you throwing another hysterical fit in front of my men just to get my attention."

I knew exactly what he was referring to. Gianna was only in town for a short while, and Dominic intended to parade her through the Family's operations as his rightful partner — the woman at his side when the capos came to pay their respects.

The memory of our third annulment flashed in my mind. Back then, I had been foolish enough to think I could fight for my marriage. I had rushed to the social club to deliver a crucial set of ledgers he had left at the estate, only to find Gianna sitting in his chair behind the heavy oak desk, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. When I lost my temper and demanded she get away from my husband, Gianna had squeezed out a few fake tears.

To protect his precious first love from the judgmental whispers of the capos and senior associates gathering outside the closed doors, Dominic hadn't just told me to leave. He had called his soldiers.

As two of them grabbed my arms to drag me out, Dominic had coldly tossed our freshly stamped annulment decree onto the floor at my feet.

"She isn't my wife," he had announced loudly to the entire room, ensuring everyone heard him over my sobs. "She's just an ex who doesn't know when to quit."

Since that day, his people made it a point to spread word of our dissolved union through every connected family and associate every single time Gianna returned. They painted Gianna as his innocent, destined partner, and me as the delusional, clinging woman who was obsessed with the Castellano name.

But this time, his threats meant nothing.

"You don't have to worry," I said, walking past him without a second glance. "I have zero interest in interrupting your time with Gianna. You two deserve each other."

He frowned, his eyes narrowing as he tried to read my face. He was clearly unsettled by my lack of tears, but his massive ego quickly covered it up.

"Just make sure you're back by the second week of next month," he ordered. "We have a ceremony to schedule."

I didn't turn around, but a quiet, genuine smile broke across my face.

"Okay," I whispered to the empty air.

Because the second week of next month was exactly when my one-way flight was scheduled to take off. And Dominic would never find me again.