I'm Done With the Don Who Plays Favorites

The person standing outside the door was none other than Liliana. She held a large bouquet of white lilies in her arms, smiling brightly and innocently.

"Giorgio, I came to apologize to Bella," she chirped.

The moment I saw the flowers, my breathing hitched.

I was severely allergic to lily pollen. Giorgio knew that, which was why not a single white lily had appeared in this villa ever since we got married.

But now, Liliana stood before me carrying them openly in her arms.

Giorgio pulled a long face and asked sternly, "Who said you could bring those in here?"

Liliana seemed to suddenly realize her mistake.

She sounded aggrieved as she explained, "I didn't know. I just thought lilies complemented the romantic atmosphere of a wedding anniversary."

Feigning ignorance, she took another deliberate step forward.

The heavy scent of pollen rushed toward me. My throat tightened instantly, and my chest felt unbearably heavy.

I gripped the edge of the table, my voice hoarse and constricted as I forced out the words with great effort. "Take them away…"

Giorgio snatched the flowers from Liliana and threw them to a nearby maid.

"Throw them out! Call the doctor!" he commanded urgently.

But it was already too late. My vision blurred, and my ears rang. I couldn't even stand on my feet. Right before I lost consciousness, I felt Giorgio scoop me into his arms.

When I woke up again, the sky outside had already gone completely dark.

I was lying in bed. The needle marks were still visible on the back of my hand, and the air was thick with the smell of medicine.

Fragmented voices drifted in from outside the room.

Supporting myself, I walked to the door and realized it hadn't been fully closed. Someone had left a narrow crack. Only a single wall lamp was lit in the living room.

Liliana stood beside the liquor cabinet, her voice tinged with cruel mockery. "Gio, was it really necessary to get that angry at me for her sake? She's just some cheap woman you picked up from the underground auction house. Without you, she would've died long ago."

Giorgio stood in the shadows, his side profile cold and rigid. "Shut up. I told you not to talk about her like that."

Liliana laughed softly. "Am I wrong? A lowborn woman is still lowborn, even if she marries you. Padre only agreed to let you marry her because you promised him she would never give birth to an heir for the famiglia."

My fingers that were on the doorknob froze.

Liliana continued, as though she were determined to twist the knife deeper. "The only reason you were able to secure your position as Don was because Padre approved of you. He made it very clear that the future Donna had to come from a respectable background.

"A woman like Bella is only fit to stay by your side as a trophy wife. Why has she never gotten pregnant all these years? You know the answer to that question better than anyone. Weren't you the one who let her keep taking those 'health tonics' the family doctor delivered each month?"

I clamped a hand tightly over my mouth to stop myself from making a sound.

So, the reason I couldn't conceive wasn't that I was unhealthy—it was Giorgio.

The husband I had loved for seven years had personally destroyed my chance of becoming a mother.

I shuddered to imagine what would happen if I had insisted on telling Giorgio that I still had a chance of getting pregnant.

What would he have done? Would he have pretended nothing was wrong while secretly increasing the dosage of those "health tonics"? Or would he stage an "accident" to make me lose my uterus entirely?

A shiver ran down my spine.

The living room fell silent for a long time.

When Giorgio finally spoke again, his voice was hoarse and low. "That's enough. Get out."

But Liliana didn't leave. Instead, she stepped closer and adjusted his collar for him.

Her voice softened as she purred, "I'm just worried about you. You've already given her everything, but she still insists on leaving. She's not worthy of you at all."

Giorgio didn't respond.

Only the sound of ice clinking against the walls of a glass echoed through the room again and again. Then came the sound of hard liquor being swallowed.

No one knew how much time passed before a suppressed gasp suddenly came from the living room. Next, there came the sound of fabric rustling.

Liliana chuckled coquettishly. "Giorgio, stop drinking. You're drunk..."

In the next second, a man's heavy breathing pressed down and muffled her voice. The wet sound of lips and tongues smacking filled the air.

Then, there came the low, husky breaths I knew better than anyone. Those were the sounds Giorgio made only when he was aroused.

Leaning against the door, I felt cold all over. Through the slightly ajar door, I listened to my husband passionately kissing another woman on the very night I had barely survived an allergic shock.

I didn't continue listening. Turning around, I picked up the divorce agreement and threw on my coat. Quietly, I dragged my suitcase toward the door.

As I passed through the living room, the two people on the couch were practically glued together. Giorgio leaned back against the couch with his shirt collar pulled open. Liliana sat on his lap, her red lips trailing kisses down to his Adam's apple.

No one noticed me, and no one cared about me.

I gently placed the family signet onto the entryway cabinet before pushing open the villa's back door.

…

The sea breeze at the dock was freezing cold.

A black car was parked at the end of the pier. When the door opened, I saw a tall figure step out from the darkness.

The man said in a deep voice, "Bella, I came to take you home."

My eyes stung with unshed tears as I followed him into the car.

I gave the city behind me one last look. This was the place that held seven years of my love and endless waiting.

And now, it was all over.