Why the Mafia’s Wife Kills Chapter 02
My phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number.
[Simone, divorce him. Marry me instead?]
I stared at the text and laughed.
The laugh turned to tears.
Outside, a car engine faded.
Dante had taken his little canary to the hospital.
I stood in the empty living room.
This house, where I’d lived three years, felt freezing.
At three in the morning, Dante came back.
He reeked of hospital antiseptic.
His face was darker than when he left.
I sat on the sofa.
The pink diamond ring was loose on my pinky.
I didn’t take it off.
“How is she?” I asked calmly.
“Her hand is badly hurt.”
Dante’s voice was ice.
“Simone, do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“I do.” I wiggled my pinky. “Taking out the trash.”
Dante strode over and grabbed my jaw.
“That’s assault! I could put you in prison!”
I looked up at him.
The man I’d once obsessed over felt like a stranger.
“Go ahead.”
I smiled, but tears spilled over.
“Tell the whole world the Donna of the Lombardis attacked your mistress out of jealousy.
Watch the headlines. Watch the Lombardi stock crash.”
His grip loosened, but his eyes burned.
“You weren’t like this before.”
“Before?”
I laughed out loud.
“The old Simone died the day you brought that little canary into my home.”
Dante let go and stepped back.
“Simone, we’re getting a divorce. Name your terms. But we’re ending this.”
“I’m not divorcing you.”
“What did you say?”
“I said—NO.”
I stood and walked toward him.
He towered over me. I had to tilt my chin, but I wouldn’t back down.
“Dante, for three years I was a fool who revolved around you.
I gave up my career, my friends, myself—all to be the perfect Donna you wanted.
Now you’re bored and want to throw me away?
Not that easy.”
“What the hell do you want?” He nearly snarled.
“What do I want?”
I echoed him.
“I want you to lose everything. Just like I did.”
Dante stared at me, his expression complicated.
“You won’t,” he said at last, sure of himself.
“Simone, you love me. You’d never really hurt me.”
And I did love him.
Even now. Even after everything.
Pathetically, I still loved him.
The thought made me sick.
“Get out.”
I turned away, not looking at him.
Dante stood in the living room a moment longer.
Then he left.
The front door slammed, loud in the silent night.
I collapsed onto the sofa.
I picked up my phone and stared at the unknown text.
My finger hovered over the screen.
After a long pause, I typed three words.
[Who are you?]
They texted back instantly.
[Lucius]
Lucius?
The boy who’d tugged my pigtail in high school.
The boy who passed me cheat sheets during exams.
The boy who’d handed me a tissue when my dad went bankrupt and jumped off a building.
How many years had it been?
Five? Six?
My phone buzzed again.
[Tomorrow at 3 PM. Our old café.]
[I’ll be waiting.]
I looked at the message.
Then at the ring on my finger that didn’t belong to me.
I typed one word.
[Okay.]