Leaving the Don: A Mafia Wife's Revenge

"What's on your mind? Your coffee's gone cold," Vincenzo asked as he came up from the basement.

The black shirt outlined his broad shoulders and narrow waist, and his sleeves were rolled up to reveal the brutal famiglia tattoo along his forearm.

It was the tattoo I had personally inked on Vincenzo when he took over the famiglia at the age of 23.

I once thought that the tattoo served as his badge of honor and a reminder of the bond between us.

But now, it meant nothing at all.

"Nothing." I looked up and flashed Vincenzo a composed smile. "Your phone rang earlier. It's an encrypted number, and it hung up after one ring. Want to call it back?"

"No need." He picked up the phone and casually tossed it onto the desk before grabbing his coat. "Something came up in Brodlyn. Someone crossed our turf and moved in on our shipment, so I'll need to take care of it. Don't wait up tonight."

"How many men are you taking?" I asked instinctively. Years of habit had trained me to think ahead for Vincenzo.

"Five will do." He paused, then added, "Marco is coming with me. You don't need to worry."

How convincing. Vincenzo had a problem, backup, and even made a point to soothe me.

If I hadn't seen the evidence myself, I would've laid out his bulletproof vest and reminded him to be careful, just like what I always did.

I nodded and got up to fix Vincenzo's collar for him. "Be careful. Don't get hurt."

Something flickered in his eyes. He reached out to hug me, but stopped short the moment his hand brushed past my shoulder.

He eventually withdrew his hand and replied in a muffled tone, "I'll get going now."

I watched as Vincenzo left in a hurry. Then, I picked up the cold coffee and drank it in one shot.

The bitterness that spread across my tongue couldn't compare to what I felt deep down.

…

Vincenzo didn't come home that night.

I sat on the couch in the living room, staring at our wedding photo on the wall for a long time.

Vincenzo had bright eyes and was smiling shyly in the photo. He was holding my hand tightly, like I was his everything.

Meanwhile, I was dressed in a long black gown, my expression cold. But when I looked at him, something in my face softened without me realizing.

I couldn't make sense of the reason Vincenzo would betray me.

Was it because I'd grown older? Or was it because I had weathered through blood and violence, and had lost the innocence Lina still carried?

Or maybe, Vincenzo's "love" for me from the start was nothing more than dependence and convenience.

I leaned back against the couch and closed my eyes. Images flickered through my mind, one after another, until a blurry figure suddenly popped up.

My eyelids flew open at once. I hurriedly pulled out my phone and started scrolling through Lina's photos again.

I had seen this woman before.

About half a year ago, Vincenzo got into a fight with the Irla mafia over a turf dispute. During an ambush, he was shot in the left arm and rushed to the famiglia's private hospital.

I was dealing with some issues with the drug transport route in Myradi back then. The moment I got the call, I flew back overnight.

Vincenzo's face was pale as he lay on the hospital bed. Even with his left arm wrapped in thick bandages, he still tried to brush it off. "It's just a scratch. Nothing serious."

I felt upset and heartbroken at the same time, seeing blood seeping through his bandages.

I snapped, "Can you rein in that spoiled bravado of yours? This isn't some lawless era anymore. You can't solve everything with your fists!"

Vicenzo suddenly grabbed my hand. Grievance filled his gaze when he said, "They called you an old hag, Freya. Said you weren't fit to be the Donna of the Corleone famiglia. I couldn't just do nothing."

Just like that, my anger drained away. All that was left was just tenderness for him.

I thought then that Vincenzo truly cared about me.