Too Late For The Mafia King's Regret

Nora POV

The next evening, the air on the private terrace hung heavy, thick with humidity and unspoken lies.

Lucien sat across from me, swirling a glass of red wine with practiced ease. He looked relaxed, the absolute picture of a devoted husband. He had cleared his schedule for our anniversary dinner. No guards, no business, just us.

It was a beautifully orchestrated farce.

"You're quiet tonight," he said, cutting into his steak with surgical precision. "Still the headache?"

"I heard about the Rossetti divorce," I said. It was a lie I had fabricated hours ago, a bait laid carefully in the trap. "It made me think. Twenty years of marriage, and he left her for a showgirl."

Lucien scoffed, shaking his head dismissively. "Rossetti is a fool. A man without honor."

"Honor," I repeated, testing the word on my tongue. "Is that what keeps a man faithful? Honor?"

"Loyalty," Lucien corrected. He put down his fork and looked at me with those intense, dark eyes that used to make my knees weak. "A Don never betrays his Queen. It weakens the foundation of the house."

"So it's about strategy," I said, keeping my voice even. "Not love."

He reached across the table and took my hand. His grip was firm, warm. A week ago, this touch would have grounded me. Now, I felt like pulling my hand away and scrubbing it with bleach until the skin was raw.

"It is both, Nora," he said seriously, his voice dropping an octave. "I swear on the honor of the Marino family. I swear on my blood. I would never betray you. You are the only woman who matters."

He looked me straight in the eye. He didn't blink. He didn't flinch.

He was a sociopath.

He truly believed his own lies. Or maybe he thought that because Sophia was just a "distraction," it didn't count as betrayal. He had compartmentalized his life so perfectly that he could sleep with my sister and still believe he was a good husband.

"That's good to know," I said softly.

I was mentally calculating the hours. Forty-eight hours left.

"Come here," he said, standing up.

He pulled me up from my chair. He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me flush against his hard body. I stiffened instinctively, then forced myself to melt into him. I couldn't raise suspicion. Not yet.

"I have something for you," he whispered against my ear.

"Lucien, I-"

"Hush."

He took a silk blindfold from his pocket.

"Trust me," he said.

The irony tasted like bile in my throat.

He tied the blindfold over my eyes. My world went dark. Panic flared in my chest. Being blind to him was dangerous. But I let him lead me.

We walked for a few minutes. I could smell the salt of the ocean and the damp wood of the pier. We were heading toward the private docks.

"Stop here," he said.

He stood behind me, his hands resting possessively on my shoulders.

"Open your eyes."

He pulled the silk away.

I blinked against the sudden breeze. We were standing at the edge of the harbor. The water was black and still.

Suddenly, a mechanical hum filled the air. Hundreds of lights shot up from the darkness. Drones.

They swarmed into the sky, dancing like synthetic fireflies. They formed shapes-a heart, a crown, the number seven.

Then, they spelled out a name.

ELEONORA.

It spanned the entire horizon. It was massive, ostentatious, and incredibly expensive. A display of wealth and power that screamed to the world: She is mine.

"Beautiful," Lucien whispered, his chin resting on my shoulder. "Like you."

I stared at my name in the sky. It felt like a neon tombstone.

"It's... a lot," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

"You deserve the world," he said. He turned me around to face him. "I love you, Nora. You are my life."

He leaned in. His lips were inches from mine. I could feel his breath.

Buzz.

His pocket vibrated against my hip.

He froze. I saw the annoyance flash in his eyes, followed by something else. Something guilty.

He pulled back, reaching for his phone. It wasn't his business phone. It was the burner he kept in his inside pocket.

I saw the screen before he could angle it away.

My Little Canary.

Sophia.

My stomach dropped to the floor. Canary. Because she sang for him? Or because she was just another pet in a cage?

Lucien's face changed instantly. The romantic husband vanished. The Don appeared. But there was a frantic edge to his eyes.

"I have to take this," he said, stepping back. "It's... a family emergency. A situation with the shipments."

"Tonight?" I asked, letting the hurt bleed into my voice. It wasn't hard. "On our anniversary?"

"I'm sorry, tesoro," he said, already walking toward the waiting SUV that had pulled up silently out of the shadows. "The Family comes first. You know this."

"Yes," I said. "I know."

He didn't even kiss me goodbye. He slid into the SUV. Vincenzo, his head of security, slammed the door.

The convoy sped away, tires screeching on the pavement.

I stood alone on the dock. Above me, the drones were still spelling my name, blinking mockingly in the night sky.

The Family comes first.

"Vincenzo took the lead car," I whispered to myself, my voice cold. "Lucien is in the second."

I turned and ran back to the house. Not to cry. Not to wait.

I ran to the garage. I had my own car, a modest sedan I used for charity work. It didn't have the tracker the luxury cars had.

I wasn't the dutiful wife anymore. I was the woman who was going to burn his kingdom down.

I started the engine.

I was going to see the truth with my own eyes.