Racing Away From Forever

"Donna, this is the family's morning briefing." The maid, her eyes downcast, placed several confidential files and newspapers on the mahogany table, her hands trembling slightly.

I waved a hand, dismissing her.

An entire week. Elio hadn't set foot in the manor.

In his absence, rumors swirled through the family's inner circle.

He took Ava to the underground cigar clubs reserved for high-ranking bosses. He accompanied her to the Metropolitan Opera, brazenly sitting in the velvet box that had once been exclusively mine.

These unspoken whispers were a precise dagger to my pride.

The vast manor felt suffocatingly empty. Every night, the cold Atlantic wind whistled through the withered branches of the rose garden.

I looked at the photos from the private investigator. Elio's eyes, which once burned only for me, were now filled with tenderness for another woman.

My heart froze over, inch by inch, turning colder than the November wind.

It was a bitter irony that I had once thrown myself into his arms without a second thought. How foolish I'd been to be moved by his blood oath.

I dialed Elio's private line. It rang for a long time before he finally answered. The background was a cacophony of noise.

"What is it?" His voice was sharp, annoyed at the interruption.

"Come home."

"I'm busy."

I took a slow, deep breath of the cold air, willing my voice not to tremble. "Elio, do you remember what tonight is?"

Silence stretched on the other end of the line. After a long moment, his tone softened slightly. "...I'll be back later."

After hanging up, I sat on the sofa in the dim light, waiting from dusk until late at night, and from late at night until three in the morning.

Finally, a sound echoed from the entrance hall. I walked over to see Ava struggling to support a dead-drunk Elio.

His tall frame was slumped against her, the strong scent of bourbon mingling with her cheap perfume.

When Ava saw me, she flinched, her face immediately a mask of timid innocence. "Donna, please don't misunderstand. Today is the anniversary of my father's death. The Don only had a little too much to drink while comforting me. Please don't be angry with him..."

I looked at her, a suffocating weight pressing down on my chest. I didn't even have the strength to feel angry, only a weary sorrow that left me utterly silenced.

Ava's eyes instantly reddened. Tears welled as she choked out, "I'm sorry..."

Hearing the commotion, the stumbling Elio seemed to sense a threat, instinctively pulling Ava behind him. "Eleonora," he slurred. "Don't... don't be so hard on her. She's been through enough."

The last ember of warmth in my heart died.

I emotionlessly beckoned for the night guards to carry their venerable Don back to the master bedroom.

Only Ava and I remained in the grand hall.

I picked up the manila envelope I had prepared and held it out to her.

"I know what you want."

"Get him to sign this without his knowledge, and the position of the Carbone family's matriarch is yours."

She stared at the divorce papers, her eyes flickering with conflict before she finally took the folder.

When Elio woke up the next day, he pressed his temples, the first thing he said to me was, "Last night... you didn't give Ava a hard time, did you?"

I looked at his shameless face and said calmly, "Elio, you swore on the cross. You swore you would never let me spend our anniversary alone."

He froze, guiltily averting his gaze. "Last night was different. Ava was a mess. She's alone. What do you want for compensation? A yacht? South African diamonds? Name it, and it's yours."

"And what if I want a divorce?"

His face instantly darkened. "Eleonora, stop this nonsense. I'm pretending I didn't hear that."

He roughly grabbed his coat and practically fled. Before he left, he had his finance department wire a fortune to my offshore account.

He still thought money could buy my obedience.

Less than an hour later, a black armored car pulled up to the manor's gate.

One of his men handed me a package. It was from Ava.

I tore open the seal and flipped to the last page. In the signature line, "Elio Carbone" was scrawled in his bold, familiar script.