When the Don Took a Mistress

I suddenly laughed.

Antonio looked at me curiously. "What's so funny?"

I locked my screen and said without a hint of emotion, "Sofia made plans for afternoon tea, and I forgot about them. She's chewing me out right now."

Antonio seemed to relax all at once. "Do you still want to go?"

"Of course. Otherwise, Sofia won't let me hear the end of it for three days. You go handle your business."

Antonio looked displeased. "I'm going to start getting jealous of Sofia. You always take her side. I really don't want to let you go. Wouldn't it be better if we spent time together, just the two of us?"

I turned to look at him, but he had already turned the wheel, preparing to make a U-turn. I smiled a little and turned away. "There'll be time later."

"That's right. We have a whole lifetime ahead of us. This time, I won't compete with Sofia."

He dropped me off at The Brastol, a private club, and hurried off in his car.

Half an hour later, Caterina sent me another message.

[Did he just drop you off and leave? See? I just have to cry, and he goes soft. Oh, and I'm pregnant. He said I can keep the baby. He said he wants a daughter, but I want to give him a son.

[I already checked. This one's a boy. The Rizzo family's first child. His first child. It's just too bad the doctor won't let us sleep together in the first trimester. I haven't even worn the new lingerie he bought me yet.

[He has such a high sex drive. You can't satisfy him, so he must be dying.]

I did not reply. I only took screenshots of every message she sent and saved them. As I did all this, my hands shook a little.

Perhaps Antonio had been too committed to his performance all these years, and I had been too naive in trusting him.

Hence, when this absurd and debauched side of him was exposed, I still could not control my emotions.

It turned out that all that tenderness in the bedroom that had moved me was fake too. He had long been disgusted by our tepid intimacy.

When I thought his restraint was love for me, reality slapped me hard across the face.

The steadily decreasing frequency of our intimacy was not because of love or consideration. It was simply because he could not enjoy himself, so he could not even be bothered to go through the motions anymore.

Before I went home, I called my father.

"Papa."

"Elena?" Papa's voice carried surprise. "Why are you calling at this hour? Did something happen?"

"Papa, do you still remember what Mama did to you back then?"

The line went silent. The story of my parents was taboo in the Santoro family.

When Papa discovered Mama's lover, he did not argue or question her. He simply ended the marriage one ordinary morning, then took me and left New Yis.

We never went back.

"I remember." Papa's voice was hoarse. "Elena, what's wrong?"

"Papa, I'm coming home."

"Is it that Rizzo boy?" Papa's breathing grew heavy on the other end.

"He told his family members that after he married me, he realized I was boring and not as good as the women outside."

A low, suppressed laugh of fury came through the line. "That Rizzo boy has some nerve."

I gripped the phone. My knuckles went white from the pressure.

"Where are you? I'll send the driver to pick you up right now." His voice held an unquestionable decisiveness, as if he had instantly returned to that morning years ago when he took me and left New Yis.

"No need, Papa. I'll come back on my own."

I took a deep breath and tried to make my voice sound calm. "I just wanted to tell you that I won't stay in this disgusting place any longer."

The line went silent for a few seconds. Then, Papa's low voice came through. "Alright, I'm waiting for you. When you get home, I'll take care of everything."

After I hung up, I stared at the scenery racing past the car window. Tears finally spilled over.

The love I once thought was unbreakable turned out to be nothing more than an elaborately woven lie. And now, I was finally going to tear it apart with my own hands and return to the place where I truly belonged.

"Papa, does my application to join the inspection team still stand?"

On the surface, the Santoro family were made up of legitimate businessmen. Beneath that, we ran a vast intelligence network. The so-called inspection team was just a cover for transporting firearms and ammunition around the world.

Conditions in those places were harsh. Sleeping rough and going without proper meals was routine.

More importantly, many missions were classified. Communication with the family was almost nonexistent.

"Elena, are you sure about this?"

"Papa, once trust is broken, it can never be repaired."

Papa's breathing grew heavier. This was the creed of every member of our family.

When Papa left all those years ago, he had said the same thing to Mama.

"Alright. I'll have someone make the arrangements."