A Proper Donna Takes Out the Trash

"I'll take you to a doctor after the banquet. Just hang in there."

As soon as he finished speaking, Veronica sauntered in, glanced at my face, and burst out laughing. "God, Donna—what happened to you? You look like death warmed over."

Laughing, she linked her arm with Adrian's. "Let's go, Adrian. We're going to be late for the Don's banquet."

I looked at Adrian, my suspicion rising. "What banquet?"

He couldn't meet my eyes. "It's just a small family banquet, but the Five Families will be there. You weren't feeling well, so I didn't want to bother you. Veronica will go in your place."

"It's for your own good."

Veronica tugged Adrian out of the room. "Come on—we're going to be late!"

At the door, Adrian glanced back at me. "Naomi, just rest. I'll take you to the doctor after."

Behind him, Veronica mouthed a silent message to me, her eyes glinting with blatant provocation.

On the way to the banquet, Veronica sat in the passenger seat of the Rolls-Royce, her voice laced with feigned vulnerability. "Adrian, Naomi is a Falcone Principessa and your wife. I'm worried she'll get jealous and find a way to get back at me."

"What am I going to do if she really comes after me?"

Adrian's eyes remained on the road. Seeing her feigned helplessness, his heart softened.

"Don't worry. Naomi's just blowing off steam. Besides, you have me, don't you?"

His tone became smug. "With me here, no one would dare touch you—not even the Donna."

"She thinks she can do whatever she wants because her father is the Don. When it comes to real brains, you're ten times sharper than her."

What he didn't know was that Veronica had called me right before they left. I heard every single word.

Then, she sent me a text: "Did you hear that? That's what Adrian really thinks of you. If you have any dignity left, stop clinging to him. He doesn't love you."

I had already decided to leave Adrian. But since she wanted to provoke me, I would leave her an unforgettable parting gift.

I went to the underground shooting range alone, shredded a human-shaped target with a Beretta 92, and then made a call amidst the lingering scent of gunpowder.

"Adrian is taking his assistant, Veronica, to the banquet tonight. After the party, bring her to my penthouse."

"And in her champagne, add a little Devil's Vine extract."

Then I made another call. "Papa, it's time. Freeze all of Adrian's lines of credit at our family bank."

The Don's banquet was being live-streamed on the underworld's encrypted website, The Ledger.

Every Don attended with his Donna. Except for Adrian, who made the excuse that his wife was unwell and brought his assistant in her place.

I sat in front of the giant screen in my apartment, watching Adrian's hypocritical smile, my stomach churning.

The camera panned to Veronica as she descended the stairs, wearing the 'Siren's Tear'—the sapphire necklace that belonged only to the matriarch of the Marino family. The gaze of every man in the room followed her, their admiration obvious.

Veronica basked in the attention, gliding triumphantly to Adrian's side.

Watching this from the penthouse, my nails dug so deep into my palms that they drew blood.

That necklace belonged to the Donna. In the Marino family, only the woman who had taken vows with the Don before a priest had the right to wear it.

I remembered our own wedding—Adrian standing at the altar, vowing with absolute conviction.

"You are my only wife. I swear before the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit—if I ever betray you, may my soul suffer eternal damnation."

His gaze that day was so pure, untainted by anything but the deepest love.