Replaced by His Capo, I Left the Don

I tore the wedding binder apart, page by page, and threw it in the trash.

Late that night, Silas finally came home, buzzing with adrenaline.

"Scarlett, that was way too close. Thank God Camilla's fine, and we got the shipment back."

He walked toward me, leaning in to kiss my cheek, acting as if everything was perfectly normal.

I sat on the couch, looking down at my phone. I was busy wiring the funds from my New York accounts to overseas banks.

"Congratulations," I said, dodging his kiss. My voice was deadpan.

Silas stopped. His eyes drifted to the trash can, catching a glimpse of the shredded pages with the word Wedding on them.

His expression darkened.

"Scarlett," he said coldly. "Is this how you show you're upset? Are you seriously pitching a fit over this?"

I looked up at him. "Over what?"

"I had to leave for the Famiglia!" his voice rose. "And this is how you throw a tantrum? The silent treatment? Ripping up the wedding plans just so I can see?"

A dry laugh escaped my lips.

It made him frown harder.

"Silas," I looked him dead in the eye. "I'm not throwing a tantrum. I really meant congratulations."

He froze. Then, a wave of offended anger washed over his face.

"Fine," he sneered. "Since you don't care, we're not making up for the anniversary either."

The study door slammed shut behind him.

I brushed off his anger and focused back on my phone. There was an encrypted email.

Sender: Julian Greycastle.

The Don of the Greycastle Famiglia in Chicago.

We had met at an auction a month ago, and he made no secret of his interest in me. I rejected him without a second thought back then.

Now, I typed my reply: I accept your offer. I land in Chicago in five days.

For the next three days, Silas left early and came home late.

We lived under the same roof like strangers. I stopped following him around, stopped asking where he was going, stopped reminding him to eat.

I was busy packing. Not seeing him actually felt like a relief—at least I didn't have to hide it.

Early on the fourth morning, I got a call from Dario, Silas's bodyguard.

"Donna," he sounded frantic. "The boss's migraine is acting up. He smashed half the room and won't listen to anyone. He's out of his meds, could you please..."

I looked at the silver pillbox on the table. It was a custom prescription I had hunted down from countless doctors just for him.

"Last time," I sighed to myself.

I grabbed the pills and drove to the Vance estate.

At the end of the hall, the bedroom door was slightly ajar. I heard voices and instinctively stopped.

"...This color suits you perfectly." It was Silas's gentle voice.

I peeked through the crack.

Camilla was standing in front of a mirror, an emerald necklace draped over her collarbones.

It was the necklace Silas had won at a European auction last month. He had texted me a picture back then: Early anniversary gift. Do you like it?

I had loved it so much my heart felt like it would burst.

Now, it was on another woman's neck.

"But Don Silas," Camilla bit her lip, looking worried. "Will Scarlett be mad? She's been so moody lately..."

Silas sat on the couch, looking pale, but his eyes were dripping with affection.

"Your position in the Famiglia is different now," he murmured. "You're going to attend a lot of events for me. You need decent jewelry to hold your own. Scarlett is the future Donna; she won't hold a grudge over a piece of jewelry. I'll just buy her another one."

Standing outside the door, it felt like a knife was twisting slowly in my chest.

My spot in the photo... my necklace... he could give it all away so easily.

It hit me with crushing clarity just how little I meant to him.

I took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

Camilla whipped around. Her hand jerked, knocking over the white porcelain mug on the nightstand.

A sharp crash echoed. The porcelain shattered into pieces.

I made that mug for him two years ago. Carved on the bottom were the words: For S. Forever.