Divorce, Mafia Princess Style

"Divorce?" I shot him a smile, cold and sharp. "Fine."

Damon froze like I'd just smacked him. Didn't expect that, huh?

His mouth opened, no sound. I was already at my desk.

"Sofia, get the divorce papers started," I said, grabbing a pen. "And let my father know—Damon's got something to say."

"Vanessa, I—"

"You want out, right?" I didn't even glance at him. "Then take it to the Don. Family rules."

His jaw clenched, but that fake tough guy look stayed plastered on.

"What, you wanna settle this in secret?" I dropped the pen, stared him down. "You forget who you married? I'm not some deli guy's kid."

"This was a mafia deal from the jump," Sofia chimed in, smirking. "If you're tapping out, better get the Don's blessing."

Damon gulped. Sweat slid down his face.

Yeah, he hadn't thought this through.

Probably figured a mafia marriage ends like some courthouse quickie.

Still, hope's a stubborn thing. He stormed off to Papa's office like he had a shot.

As soon as he left, Sofia stepped up. "Signora, what do you think the Don's gonna do?"

I leaned back, kept signing. "Let's see... cheats with some bar trash, burns through our money, then wants a divorce? Papa's gonna teach him what loyalty really means."

Half an hour later, the whole place shook with Papa's roar.

"You said WHAT?!"

Then—smash.

And Damon's screams followed.

The doors flew open. Two guards dragged him out, bloody and wrecked. His face looked like ground beef, shirt soaked in red.

Sofia strolled back in, grinning like it was Christmas. "Don's pissed."

"And?"

"Cracked a rib. Dumped him in an old shipping container down by the docks," she said. "Said he needs some time to cool off—and remember what loyalty means."

I nodded. Exactly what I figured.

My father, Antonio Cortese, doesn't play. He's the kind of old-school Don who treats betrayal like a disease.

Damon thought he could walk away like this was some regular breakup.

He never got it.

Yeah, he was my husband.

But first and always—he was a piece on the board. Property of the Family.

***

An hour later, a knock hit the door—though it was already open.

"Ms. Cortese."

I looked up. Chloe.

"Come in."

She stepped in slow, eyes darting around the room, then dropped to her knees.

"Please, let Damon go!" she sobbed. "It's my fault. I seduced him!"

I watched her, cold smirk curling inside.

Smart move—play the noble mistress, throw herself under the bus. To make Damon look like a victim, me like the villain.

Too bad she picked the wrong game.

"You wanna save him?" I stood, looking down at her.

"Yes!" Chloe nodded fast, tears pouring. "I'll do anything. I'll keep working at the bar. I'll give you more money!"

"Anything?" I circled her like I was weighing it out. "Even sharing his punishment?"

Her face drained, but she still nodded. "Yes. I'll go with him."

How romantic.

"Perfect." I sat down, grabbed the phone. "Sofia, get the guys ready."

"Send Chloe to the container," I said, calm as ever. "Let her join Damon."

She went limp. That flicker in her eyes? Gone.

Took her long enough to figure it out—I was never buying her act.

"That container," I added, "you can count survivors on one hand."

"No... No!" Chloe scrambled back, crawling toward the door. "I changed my mind! I don't wanna—I don't wanna die!"

Too late.

Two guards stepped in, grabbed her by the arms.

She thrashed like mad, nails dragging across the floor.

"Congrats, Ms. Williams," I said with a smile. "You're about to have your big reunion with Prince Charming."