The Don's Cruelest Prescription

He carried me to the bed, picked up one of my art books, and began to slowly flip through the pages.

As a painter, I'm always searching for inspiration. Ever since we married, Marco would pore over these art books with me every night before bed.

For five years, he never missed a single night.

Not wanting to take up his time, I once told him, "I can look at these myself. You have so much to deal with, running our family's affairs. You don't have to stay with me."

That night, he pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead, his voice thick with affection.

"Aria, I'd do this for you for a lifetime."

"I want to be the first thing you see when you wake and the last thing you hear before you sleep."

For five years, he always put my needs first, handling everything himself, no matter how small. In all our years of marriage, he never let another woman get close. Even at family banquets, he never let another woman within arm's reach.

Marco was young and accomplished, the Don of the Carbone family, yet after years of marriage, I had failed to get pregnant. The family elders had long been pushing for him to take a mistress.

But every time, he refused. For my sake, he even defied the elders.

During that time, he was in a precarious position, facing resistance at every turn.

Seeing his exhausted face, I cried and begged him to leave me more than once.

But each time, he would hold me tight and say firmly, "We are not separating. Never. Whatever happens, we'll face it together."

I had even found myself envying... myself. I had the perfect husband in Marco.

The mattress was soft and warm beneath me. Snapping back to the present, I found myself already in bed, Marco having carried me there.

He tucked me in, his fingers brushing over my forehead.

I frowned and turned my head away, avoiding his touch.

"I'm tired. Don't touch me."

His hand froze in mid-air, then he gently ruffled my hair.

"Then sleep."

The moon was high in the sky. The sound of his even breaths filled the silence beside me, but sleep wouldn't come. I opened my eyes.

Marco's familiar, steady breath enveloped me, his arm instinctively tightening around my waist, holding me securely.

His arms holding me in his sleep—that was real. But so was his betrayal.

The next day was the family's annual charity gala. Marco said he wanted to announce our upcoming wedding anniversary party to everyone.

Before I could respond, Bianca chose that moment to appear.

The housekeeper came in and whispered in my ear.

"Donna Aria, Miss Bianca is here."

Marco frowned. He glimpsed her figure in the distance, a flicker of panic in his voice he couldn't quite hide.

"Didn't I say tonight was important? What is she doing here?"

I squeezed his hand to soothe him.

"Don't be angry. Perhaps it's something urgent."

My eyes flickered toward the silhouette.

It was Bianca.

I was about to signal the housekeeper to bring her over, but Marco stopped me.

He saw where I was looking, and his eyes darted away before he quickly explained, "Aria, I just remembered something urgent... family business I need to handle. Don't worry, I'll be right back. We can announce the party together then, alright?"

Hearing this, I fought down the churning in my gut.