After My Divorce, I Became the Mafia Don’s Wife

During my first week as Mrs. Bellandi, the second floor slowly became less quiet.

Every morning, Livia came to my door with Pearl in her arms. Sometimes she needed a hair clip. Sometimes she wanted to know whether there would be strawberries at breakfast. Every excuse eventually led to the same question.

“Are you staying here today too?”

Each time, I answered, “Yes.”

Only then would she go downstairs.

Matteo still did not talk much. When I worked on the broken music box, he sat nearby with a book and reminded me which screw not to touch. Nico complained that I read too slowly, yet every night he was the first to shove a storybook into my hands.

Dante usually left early and returned late. Sometimes, when I went downstairs after midnight to warm milk for Livia, I would find him at the end of the dining table with papers spread before him and men standing nearby with quiet reports. When he saw me, he only asked, “She’s awake again?”

I would nod, and he would have his men step aside.

On the seventh morning, I told Enzo I needed to go out.

The music box repair shop had called. The old ballerina could be fixed, but I had to bring the missing piece Matteo had found under Livia’s dresser. I also needed to stop by the pharmacy for my prescription.

Enzo arranged two cars and four guards. Before I could answer, Livia ran down the stairs with Pearl in her arms.

“You’re going out?”

“To repair your music box,” I said. “And to pick up medicine.”

Her fingers tightened around Pearl. “I’m going too.”

Matteo appeared with the missing ballerina arm wrapped in tissue. “I have the piece.”

Nico followed with his blanket. “If Livia cries, Matteo can’t handle it.”

Livia glared at him. “I won’t cry.”

In the end, all three children climbed into the car.

Enzo stood by the door, watching them fasten their seatbelts. “Miss Livia has not willingly left the gates since her mother disappeared.”

I looked into the car. Livia sat with Pearl in her lap, her eyes fixed on me. As long as I was there, she seemed able to endure everything beyond the window.

The repair shop was a narrow place in Little Italy, filled with clocks, brass keys, and glass cabinets of old mechanical toys. Livia stood on a stool at the counter while the owner opened the music box. Matteo leaned close, tracking each movement. Nico pretended not to care and kept asking whether there was a bakery nearby.

The owner fitted the tiny arm back onto the ballerina, wound the key, and set the box down.

Music trembled out.

Livia held her breath until the ballerina began to turn.

“She’s dancing again,” she whispered.

When I stepped into the pharmacy next door, the children followed. The pharmacist handed me the prescription and repeated the doctor’s instructions: regular meals, regular sleep, less stress.

Livia listened with a solemn face. Outside the shop, she removed the pearl clip from Pearl’s ear and fastened it to my coat.

“This is for you. It keeps bad things away.”

Nico took the paper bag from the pharmacy. “I’ll carry it.”

The bag was almost weightless.

Matteo glanced at him and chose not to expose him. Instead, he handed me a bottle of water. “The pharmacist said you need this.”

When we stepped outside, Dante was already waiting by the curb.

He stood beside his car with a black coat over one arm and two guards behind him. His gaze settled on the children walking calmly at my side and stayed there for a long moment.

“Enzo called,” he said. “He told me they all left the house.”

Livia held the repaired music box against her chest. “I didn’t cry.”

Dante lowered his eyes to her. “I can see that.”

Nico added, “She only crushed one candy in the car.”

Livia immediately tried to step on his shoe.

Dante looked from them to me, his voice lowering slightly. “Thank you.”

“They were good.”

His eyes moved to the small pharmacy bag in Nico’s hand, then to the crooked pearl clip on my coat. He said nothing more.

That night, Dante came to the second-floor sitting room with a set of keys.

“If you’re going to take them out again, you need a car that does not announce my name three blocks away.”

I looked down at the keys. “That sounds unusually practical for a Don.”

“You may be the first person in Chicago to accuse me of practicality.”

The next morning, an old dark-green Volvo was parked outside the garage.

It looked wildly out of place beside the line of black armored cars. Livia pressed herself against the window and announced that Pearl loved the color. Nico was already checking how much candy the trunk could hold, while Matteo inspected the child locks.

Dante stood on the steps, watching the children circle the car.

I walked over and said quietly, “Thank you.”

“The guards will follow when you take them out.”

“I know.”

“If anything happens, call me.”

I nodded and opened the car door.

Livia climbed in first. Matteo and Nico followed. As the door closed, Dante remained where he was, watching the three faces in the window.

Only then did I understand that he had given me more than a room in a guarded house.

He had placed the softest part of his life in my hands.