Why the Mafia’s Wife Kills Chapter 01
New York Mafia Don Dante Lombardi wanted me like a man possessed.
I’d been naive enough to think love was forever.
Three springs ago, he’d destroyed three men who came after me.
The first the older student from my university.
He’d handed me a love letter outside the library.
By the next day, he was in the hospital for three months.
The second was a coworker.
He’d brought me a coffee during staying late at work.
A week later, he was mysteriously transferred to the firm’s India branch.
The third was my childhood friend.
He’d only asked me to a movie.
His family’s business collapsed overnight.
Dante had tilted my chin up then, his voice soft.
“Simone, you’re mine. Only mine.”
And I became his.
A marriage license.
A wedding so grand the whole city talked about it.
I became the Donna of the Lombardi crime family.
Everyone said I was lucky, that I’d struck gold with the Lombardi.
But three years after we said “I do,” he brought another little canary home.
Her name was Freya.
Early twenties, fresh out of an art school in New York, innocent-faced.
“Simone, this is Freya. She’ll be staying with us for a while.”
Dante’s tone was flat.
Freya shrank behind him, big eyes wet.
“Hello, Donna.”
That night, Dante didn’t come to our master bedroom.
I sat at my vanity, staring at my still-perfect reflection.
I barely recognized myself.
I was only twenty-six, but I felt like I’d lived a lifetime.
Dante didn’t hide it anymore.
He bought Freya the latest Hermes bags.
He sent her millions with a tap, took her to Paris for fashion week.
And I, the real Donna, was just a pretty decoration.
Then I passed a jewelry store.
I saw Dante fitting a ring on Freya’s finger.
A ten-carat pink diamond, sparkling so bright it hurt to look at.
Freya smiled shyly.
Dante kissed her forehead, the same gentle look he used to give me.
I stood there, stunned.
My phone vibrated. A message from Dante’s second-in-command.
[Donna, Don won’t be home for dinner.]
I walked home slowly.
From the study, I took the custom gun Dante had given me.
He’d taught me to shoot and said,
“Simone, if anyone hurts you, use this.”
But I put the gun away.
Instead, I went to the kitchen and picked the sharpest knife.
Dante came home that night.
Freya followed him, the pink diamond glittering on her left middle finger.
“Simone, we need to talk.”
Dante’s voice was calm.
“I want a divorce.”
Freya kept her head down, but the ring blazed under the lights.
“Why?” My voice was steady.
“There’s nothing left between us.”
Dante spoke like it was obvious.
“You’ll be taken care of. The settlement will set you for life.”
I laughed softly.
“Three years. Is that how long Lombardi vows last?”
Dante frowned.
“Don’t be dramatic. We’re adults. Let’s end this clean.”
“Clean?”
I repeated the word, my eyes fixed on Freya’s finger.
“Fine. But first, give me back the ring.”
Freya flinched and hid her hand behind her back.
“That’s Freya’s.”
Dante stepped in front of her.
“No. It was bought with our joint marital assets.”
I spoke slowly, clearly.
“Dante, I own half of everything we have.”
The air turned ice-cold.
Dante’s gaze went cold.
“Simone, don’t make this hard.”
“You’re the one making it hard.”
Freya screamed.
The pink diamond clattered to the carpet.
Blood spread fast, dark and thick.
The ring was stained. Its shine dimmed.
Dante stared, shocked.
He’d never thought his quiet, obedient wife would do this.
“There. Trash belongs where trash goes.”
Freya fainted from the pain.
Dante’s face went livid.
He lifted her and ran for the door.
He glanced back at me, furious.
“Simone, you’re INSANE!”
“Yeah,” I whispered, watching blood drip from the blade.
“Drove me crazy.”
The house went quiet.
Only me and a floor stained with blood.
I knelt slowly and picked up the ring.
I wiped the blood off with a napkin.
The ten-carat pink diamond still blazed under the lights.