The Don's Broken Vow

I went back to the bedroom and looked at the closet full of designer clothes.

Every piece meant nothing now.

The red Valentino dress. He said it matched his blood.

The white fur coat. He bought it in Milan, said it would keep me warm in the Chicago winter.

The black Agent Provocateur lingerie. His favorite.

All of it was worthless.

I started packing. Then stopped. These weren’t my clothes. They belonged to the woman I used to be. She was dead.

“Valentina.”

An hour later, Alessandro’s voice came from downstairs. Tired. Entitled.

“Make me that tea you do. The calming one. I have a long night.”

The tea.

For years, whenever Alessandro couldn’t sleep, he’d have me make it. Chamomile. Lavender. Honey.

He said only I could make it right.

“I will,” I said softly.

This would be the last time.

I went to the kitchen.

Francesca was already there.

When she saw me, she smirked.

“Valentina. I’m surprised you haven’t tried to scratch my eyes out yet.”

She pushed out her chest. Showed me the fresh bite mark on her collarbone.

“Is that right?” I said, pulling out the tea canister. “Want a cup? This blend is eight hundred dollars an ounce.”

My calm threw her off.

She studied me like I was a puzzle she couldn’t solve.

“You know why he needs that tea tonight?” Francesca leaned against the counter. “Because I wore him out so bad in that study, he can’t sleep without it.”

“And you want to know the real reason he married you? It was a bet.”

My hands stopped moving.

“What bet?”

Francesca’s smile widened. “A bet that if he married the Conti family’s desperate little heiress, he could get your uncles to hand over the shipping ports.”

“And what were the stakes?”

“I had to fuck him fifty times. That’s all. As long as you said yes to the marriage…”

“Francesca, what the fuck are you saying?!”

Alessandro’s voice boomed from the doorway.

His face was white. His eyes were wild.

Francesca didn’t flinch. She just walked over and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. You know this marriage was just a business deal.”

Alessandro opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked at me.

Guilt. Panic. Shame.

I stood there frozen.

Five years ago, my father died. The Conti family was vulnerable. Every family wanted a piece.

But I chose Alessandro.

Because he saved my life when I was sixteen. Because I’d loved him for a decade.

I married him in secret. Against my uncles’ wishes.

The day we signed the papers, I thought I was the luckiest woman alive.

I thought he’d finally seen me. I thought the boy who saved me had become a man who loved me.

Now I knew the truth.

It had all been a game.

“Valentina…” Alessandro started.

I knelt down and picked up the scattered tea leaves.

“He won’t need the tea,” I said, standing up. My voice was terrifyingly calm. “It looks like you’ll keep him busy tonight.”

Francesca smiled in triumph. Alessandro just stood there, frozen.

I turned to leave.

“Valentina, wait—”

I stopped. Turned back.

“Is there something else you want to say? About the bet?”

“It’s not what you think—”

“Then what is it?” I stared into his eyes. “Look at me and tell me the truth. When you married me, was there ever a single moment you did it because you actually wanted me?”

He opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

Francesca giggled. “See? He admits it.”

I nodded. Walked away.

Later that night, my phone rang.

Alessandro.

“Valentina, what Francesca said earlier… she was lying.”

His voice was desperate.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I understand everything now.”

“No, you don’t! Maybe it started as business. But I fell in love with you.”

My calm was making him panic.

“I swear, next month, I’ll give you the wedding you deserve. Lake Como. A castle. Anything you want.”

I closed my eyes.

The same promise. For four years.

“Alessandro,” I said.

“What?”

I was going to tell him the truth. “Are you free tomorrow? About the alliance and our marriage…”