Why's the Don Crying After I Dumped Him?

At our wedding, Don Marco DeLuca, my fiance, answers a phone call. That's when his expression changes drastically.

He then looks at me, his eyes filled with pain and conflict, two of the emotions that I've never seen plaguing him before.

"Lina, Fiora will be flying this afternoon. She will leave Novaris permanently. This will be our last time seeing each other. I… I need to send her off."

As I rub my thumb against the diamond ring which has just gotten slotted onto my ring finger, I just gaze at Marco quietly.

"Are you sure you want to go see her off?"

Marco's voice is trembling at this rate. He dares not even look me in the eye.

"Lina, I swear that you'll be the only woman for me from now on. We'll get married, and we'll have children together. Life will be perfect for us."

After that, he turns on his heel and walks away without looking back. He doesn't see the way I've crumpled onto the floor, where a puddle of blood has formed beneath me.

My papa kisses me on the forehead. "My darling principessa, are you sure you want to break up with Marco?"

I close my eyes and nod in response.

I don't want Marco nor this farce of a marriage contract anymore.

Fiora Ricci's name acted as a fuse between Marco DeLuca and me. It had been eight months since the name had been brought up, and to hear it again today was like hearing a stranger's name.

Marco's expression was one of struggle and suffering. He looked as earnest as he did when he kneeled before Papa, Loreto Moretti, to ask for my hand in marriage. He swore on the Bible and promised me that things between him and Fiora had ended long ago, thoroughly and completely.

"Do you really intend to go, Marco?" I asked, my voice trembling.

Marco left without looking back. His retreating figure was steadfast, even bearing a sense of solemn finality.

I found myself laughing as a sudden pain shot through my lower abdomen and blood flowed across the floor. I wasn't able to keep the baby after all of this.

I stared at the closed door and burst out laughing, the candle flames in the church dancing with the wind. I glanced down at the ivory-white wedding gown Marco had personally picked out—a three-month commission that cost 60 thousand dollars just to ship. I merely yanked the veil away and threw it on the floor.

I could hear the guests in the church whispering amongst themselves. There were sympathetic glances, and there were those enjoying the scandal, but many just quietly left their drinks behind, pretending it hadn't happened.

I sat alone in the empty hall and called my lawyer. "Get that agreement ready, Antonio."

…

I returned to our penthouse at the Sterling District the following morning, looking deathly pale. I noticed that it was silent throughout and knew that Marco still hadn't returned. I didn't receive any calls, messages, or explanations. I smiled wryly in response, knowing exactly where Marco had spent the night.

I was just about to head to the bedroom to pack my belongings when the front door swung open—Marco had returned.

Marco caught sight of me and stiffened, unable to look me in the eye. "Why are you up so early, Lina? I'm sorry about last night. I had to go since something happened with Fiora—"

I caught the scent of unfamiliar perfume on him as he stepped forward to embrace me. I then spotted a red scratch mark on his neck.

I would have lashed out—shattering a vase, slapping him, and crying in hysteria—if this had happened eight months ago, but now I felt nothing but revulsion. I took a step back and stated in an unnervingly calm tone, "Let's break up, Marco."

Marco froze on the spot, his expression quickly shifting to one of annoyance. "What do you want from me, Lina Moretti? Haven't I told you that it was the last time? Fiora is going away and won't return for good! Why can't you be a bit understanding for once, Lina?"

I looked at Marco, who had lost control in front of me, my eyes slightly vacant. I had almost never seen him lose his temper with me; after all, it was common knowledge that Marco DeLuca had been madly in love with Lina Moretti.

It was true, though, as he once reserved an entire restaurant for me after I offhandedly said that I wanted the food there.

He had once filled the Aethelgard sky with fireworks over the Sanguine River for my birthday. He had spent the entire night beside my bed when I was sick, checking my temperature with the back of his hand and appearing as helpless as ever.

There had been too many such moments to count, up until the day Fiora appeared—his new secretary. Marco had recruited her from Caspian. She was intelligent, soft-spoken, and possessed a beauty that seemed out of place in the Mafia.

I knew something was off the first time I met her, as the way Marco looked at her was off—that was a look Marco had only ever given to me.

I had cried and caused a scene—at one point even pointing a gun at Fiora's head, threatening to drive her out of Novaris and make it impossible for her to survive in Arinthia.

Marco, the proud Don of the DeLuca Famiglia and the ruler of the criminal underworld of Novaris, actually kneeled before me. He told me he would end it once and for all. He claimed it was a temporary lapse in judgment. He swore he would send Fiora to the western side of Arinthia and cut all ties.

I looked at my bloodshot eyes in the mirror back then and chose to give Marco another chance, but now, I wanted nothing more to do with him.

Marco was still trying to talk his way out of it. "I already told you that was the end of it, Lina. Fiora's gone and won't be coming back. Please stop acting out, Lina. Didn't we already agree to drop the subject of breaking up?"

I looked at Marco, realizing the man in front of me had transformed into a liar, his mouth filled only with deceit. I couldn't help but feel my stomach churn with nausea. I no longer wanted to fight with him, so I turned to walk upstairs as a vase shattered loudly behind me on the marble floor.