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

A week after the Volvo appeared, I took the triplets to the preview hall of the Bellandi Children’s Arts Foundation.

Dante’s family funded the annual charity auction, and one wall had been reserved for drawings from children across the city. Livia’s picture of Pearl had been selected. She insisted Pearl needed to see it in person.

The guards followed at a distance and did not come too close. Livia sat in the back seat with Pearl in her arms, whispering to the rabbit about how important the day was. Matteo held the invitation card and checked the address twice. Nico kept asking whether charity events served cake.

The preview hall occupied the second floor of a restored theater near the river. Brass railings curved around the staircase, and soft light fell across framed children’s drawings, auction tables, and discreet Bellandi security posted near every exit.

Livia found her drawing immediately.

Pearl had been drawn with a crooked crown and a blue ribbon twice the size of her head. Livia stood in front of it, silent and pink-cheeked, while Matteo adjusted the little name card under the frame and Nico announced that the rabbit looked “almost royal.”

I was kneeling to fix the ribbon on Livia’s dress when a familiar voice sounded behind me.

“Evelyn?”

My fingers paused.

Sebastian Crane stood near the champagne table in a perfectly tailored gray suit, his hair immaculate. Behind him, a young aide held a portfolio stamped with the Crane Foundation seal.

Only a few weeks had passed since the divorce. He looked untouched by all of it.

His gaze moved from my hands at Livia’s hem to the three children around me. A slow smile formed on his face.

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” he said. “Ivy League graduate, and now you’re dressing mafia children for charity photos. Is this really your life now?”

Livia held Pearl tighter and moved closer to me.

Nico’s face darkened at once.

Matteo said nothing. His eyes moved briefly to Sebastian’s aide, then to the security badge on the man’s lapel.

I stood and kept my voice steady. “Sebastian, move.”

He gave a low laugh, as if I had said something amusing.

“Still stubborn.” His eyes dropped to the obsidian crest on my coat, but recognition did not reach him. “I suppose life outside the Crane family has taught you something by now. No matter how much you complained before, at least you were Mrs. Crane. What are you now? A nanny with a borrowed brooch?”

“We’re divorced.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you were my wife.” Sebastian’s voice cooled. “When people mention you, they still think of the Crane name. Showing up here as hired help for the Bellandis makes me look ridiculous.”

Nico stepped forward, but Matteo caught him by the sleeve.

Livia looked up at me and asked softly, “Why is he talking to you like that?”

“Because he’s used to it,” I said.

Sebastian frowned. “Evelyn, don’t act tough in front of children. You left me because you wanted me to regret it. Fine. I admit you surprised me.”

He raised a hand, reaching for my shoulder the way he used to.

I stepped back.

His hand stopped in midair, and his expression sharpened.

“Enough,” he said. “The other women meant nothing. I haven’t let anyone move into your room. The position of Mrs. Crane is still empty.”

I looked at him and felt as if I were looking at a stranger.

Once, I had waited for his explanation. I had waited for an apology. Now he stood in front of me, offering the empty place beside him as if I should be grateful.

“I’m not interested,” I said.

Sebastian’s eyes darkened.

“You’re not in a position to say that.” He lowered his voice. “How much money do you have left? Do you really think the Bellandi family will treat you as one of their own? Once they’re done with you, you won’t even have a way back.”

He glanced at the triplets, his smile turning colder.

“Taking care of three mafia children, Evelyn. You’ll do anything to prove a point.”

Matteo’s eyes went completely cold.

Nico clenched his teeth. “Shut up.”

Sebastian finally looked at him, as if noticing a rude child.

“This is between adults.”

Livia hugged Pearl, her eyes slowly turning red.

I drew her behind me. “Sebastian, I’m telling you one last time. Move.”

Instead, he seemed to regain the upper hand. That familiar superiority returned to his voice.

“Admit you were wrong, Evelyn. Go back and apologize to my mother and my sister, and I may let this ugly little performance end.”

The noise of the preview hall seemed to pull away.

Then Livia let go of my hand and stepped in front of me with Pearl clutched to her chest. Her small body was trembling, but her voice rang out clearly.

“Who said she was wrong?”