The Capo's Nine Year Vow

The wind outside was bitingly cold. Dressed only in a thin gown and fresh from the procedure, I sat on a freezing plastic bench for two full hours.

He never showed up.

As I felt myself about to faint, two bodyguards walked past, murmuring about the scene inside the clinic.

"I've been with the Capo for years, and I've never seen him dote on a woman like this."

"Tell me about it. He was coddling her the whole time. The woman had a scraped knee, and the Capo scrambled a helicopter to fly her to the best private hospital in Manhattan."

Hearing this, I opened my phone and saw that Dante had changed his social media background.

On his arm, where the initials of my name should have been tattooed, was now a glaring letter "C."

Carina's "C."

I closed my texts and opened a travel app to book a flight. Due to the bad weather, the earliest flight home was in two days.

I placed the order, paid, and after confirming the ticket, I returned to our empty apartment.

At three in the morning, Dante finally came home. He pushed open the bedroom door, lay down beside me, and reached for my abdomen in the dark.

But I rolled over, leaving him with my cold back.

Dante tsked in annoyance, got up, and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

In the nine years we'd been together, a single hint of his displeasure would have sent me into a panic, chasing after him to apologize.

Tonight, however, when he came out of the shower, he found me lying on the bed, completely still.

"Putting on an act." With that parting shot, Dante stalked out of the master bedroom and went to another room, his face like stone.

The next morning, I saw a wine glass stained with lipstick on the living room coffee table.

I didn't wake Dante to question him hysterically, as I would have in the past.

Instead, I calmly made breakfast. Just as I was about to sit down, I heard Dante, who had just woken up, say from the doorway:

"Don't wait up for me tonight, there's a family dinner."

He opened the fridge and chugged two mouthfuls of ice water.

He turned to look at me, his expression suspicious. I didn't nag him about how cold water was bad for his stomach, nor did I ask who would be at the dinner.

Through the kitchen's glass partition, Dante's figure was a distorted blur. "Isabella, are you listening to me?"

Swallowing the food in my mouth, I grunted an "Mm-hmm" and continued eating.

Seeing my indifference, he tossed a garment bag containing a custom-made mink coat at me.

"Birthday present."