Divorcing the Mafia Heir

Aria’s POV

Enzo was sitting beside Camilla’s bed, holding a porcelain bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other, blowing gently on the soup before lifting it carefully to her lips. He watched her with an expression so tender it almost looked like devotion.

There had been a time when that sight would have broken me.

Now, I felt absolutely nothing.

No jealousy. No pain. No anger.

Just emptiness.

I turned quietly, intending to leave before either of them noticed me, but fate had never been kind to me.

“Aria?”

His voice reached me before I could take another step.

I paused, jaw tightening, then slowly turned back.

Enzo’s expression shifted the instant our eyes met. Whatever softness he had been wearing for Camilla vanished, replaced by something close to guilt.

“I didn’t know you were awake,” he said awkwardly, rising from the chair beside her. “How are you feeling?”

I said nothing.

I simply looked at him.

The silence stretched between us, heavy and deliberate. My stare did not waver.

He dropped his gaze first.

“What you did…” he began carefully, lifting his eyes again. “It mattered. Camilla is stable. The baby is strong. You saved them.”

A hollow laugh slipped from my lips before I could stop it.

It wasn’t loud, but it was sharp enough to make him flinch.

Camilla rested her hand over her stomach with theatrical tenderness. “Enzo hasn’t left my side once,” she said sweetly, her eyes gleaming. “He’s been incredible.”

I didn’t respond.

There was nothing left to say.

I turned to walk away again, but Enzo stepped forward quickly, reaching out.

“Wait. Please.”

I stopped, not because I cared, but because I was curious how far his audacity would go.

“I’m hosting a gathering tonight,” he continued, as though nothing catastrophic had happened between us. “To celebrate your recovery… and Camilla’s safe discharge. It’s been a difficult few days. I thought it would be good to bring everyone together. My father will attend. He wants to see you.”

I remained silent.

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Let me drive you home. We’re heading back anyway.”

“I’m not going home,” I replied evenly.

His brows drew together. “Then where?”

“The orphanage.”

I kept my tone flat.

Dominic had promised that once I agreed, the orphanage would be untouchable. I intended to make sure every document, every protection, every legal shield was in place. Enzo would never use it against me again.

Enzo blinked. “Why the orphanage?”

I tilted my head slightly. “I have matters to settle.”

Camilla suddenly perked up. “Oh, that’s lovely,” she said brightly. “I’ve been meaning to visit. It was our father’s project, after all.”

I looked at her with mild surprise.

She had always despised the orphanage. Called it sentimental. A waste of resources.

Enzo nodded immediately. “Then we’ll all go together.”

I studied him carefully.

This was the same man who once complained that the orphanage drained funds better used for “real investments.” The same man who rolled his eyes every time I mentioned renovations or donations.

Yet now, because Camilla suggested it, he agreed without hesitation.

A faint scoff escaped me.

“Fine,” I said coolly. “You can come.”

He looked relieved, almost hopeful.

“But before we leave,” I added, reaching into my bag, “I need your signature.”

He straightened slightly. “On what?”

I handed him the folded document I had been carrying since the night he brought Camilla into our home.

He took it, scanning the first page briefly. “What is this?”

“My hospital discharge paperwork,” I replied calmly.

He hesitated.

Enzo Russo never signed anything without reading it thoroughly. Contracts, agreements, internal syndicate arrangements—he reviewed every detail with obsessive caution.

For a brief second, I saw that instinct flicker.

Then Camilla shifted in the bed.

“I’m exhausted,” she murmured softly. “Can we go soon?”

Enzo glanced at her, and whatever caution he possessed evaporated.

He signed.

Without reading a single line.

He handed the papers back absentmindedly and moved immediately to help Camilla stand.

I slipped the document back into my bag, a faint, satisfied curve touching my lips.

“Thank you,” I said quietly. “I’m free now.”

He didn’t catch the meaning.

He was too busy adjusting Camilla’s coat, murmuring reassurances, completely unaware that he had just signed away far more than a hospital form.