The Don's Betrayal, My Unstoppable Rise
For seven years, I was the perfect, silent wife to Dante De Luca, the Don of the Chicago Outfit. Our marriage was a contract, signed only because his true love, Isabella, left him at the altar.
Then, she came back.
He made me watch as he chose her, again and again. He took her into a dark closet for Seven Minutes in Heaven, emerging with a fresh love bite on her neck. Then, she framed me for stealing her diamond necklace.
"She's a thief, Dante, just like her mother!" Isabella wailed.
My husband didn't hesitate. He shoved me against a table and had his men throw me into the family's private holding cell. He knew it was a setup, but he still called me trash, not fit to clean her shoes.
I finally understood. I was never his wife. I was just a "low-cost placeholder," a body in his bed until Isabella returned. I was disposable.
So when I was finally released, I walked away. His biggest rival was waiting for me with a job offer: Chief Design Director. I would compete against Dante for the city's biggest contract, using the very architectural designs he stole from me and gave to his mistress. I would build an empire on the ashes of his pride.
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Chapter 4
Seraphina POV:
His words-a convenient solution-were a final, shattering blow. I finally understood the iron-clad marriage contract I'd signed. It wasn't to protect me; it was to ensure his clean, easy exit.
I decided then and there to leave this three-person tragedy. I would not be cast aside. I would walk away on my own terms.
In the days that followed, Dante was rarely home. He was never at his official businesses, yet images of him and Isabella began to surface on social media-a daily torment. Photos of them at exclusive restaurants, on private jets, at lakeside retreats. Each picture felt like a deliberate sting.
The pain didn't fade. It hardened, crystallizing into a numb, cold resolve. I walked into the grand living room and took down our wedding portrait; in it, he looked stern and I looked terrified. I couldn't bear the sight of his face anymore.
I began packing the gifts he'd given me over the years-jewelry, designer bags, things meant to be seen, not felt. While searching for a box in his study, I pulled open a drawer and froze.
Inside, a pile of unopened boxes lay in perfect, mocking order, all neatly wrapped. Every birthday, every anniversary, every Christmas gift I had ever given him. A custom-made tie I'd commissioned. A leather-bound journal I'd embossed with his initials. A framed sketch of his favorite view from the estate. All of them, untouched.
The realization was a cold, final blow. My affection, my thoughts, my very existence-they were worthless to him.
His phone call came later that day.
"Isabella is having a housewarming party tonight," he said, his voice distant.
"You and I both know Isabella and I are not on good terms," I replied calmly.
There was a long pause. When he spoke again, his voice was cold. "It was her idea to invite you. Do you need me to send a car?"
I let out a short, bitter laugh. He only remembered my existence for Isabella's sake. "No. I'll drive myself."
I arrived at Isabella's lavish new villa to find the party winding down. The air was thick with a hostility directed squarely at me. Isabella greeted me with a venomously sweet smile, while Dante barely even glanced in my direction.
I stood awkwardly, an outsider in my own life, as Isabella began to hold court, loudly mocking my simple tastes.
"'Seraphina has such... simple tastes, you know,' she said to a group of laughing guests. 'I suppose one can't expect everyone to appreciate the finer things. Some preferences are just ingrained.'"
The guests roared with laughter, their eyes all on me. I felt the blood drain from my face, my skin growing cold and tight.
Suddenly, Dante's face was thunderous. He didn't look at me, but at the guests. "The De Luca family can afford anything," he stated, his voice low and laced with warning.
It wasn't a defense of me. It was a defense of his own pride. The message was clear: You don't insult what belongs to the head of the family.
*