Five Years as the Don’s Wife, One Night as His Stranger

Bianca froze, momentarily caught off guard by my words. She stood there in the borrowed couture, her gaze flickering as if weighing my intent, one manicured hand drifting up to touch her collarbone.

Lorenzo’s brows furrowed, though his expression remained as unreadable as the man who’d ordered blood spilled over dinner and never lost his appetite.

Seizing the chance, I silently slipped away from the kitchen, feeling a sense of liberation with each step I took across the marble.

The dissolution of the alliance would take effect in a week, and I had only that precious time to pack my life and leave this house behind, before the Falcone name could reach me again.

Back in the bedroom, I scrolled through rental listings on my phone, absorbed in my thoughts, when Lorenzo’s voice cut through the air.

"I need to see to some business for the Family. Bianca stays here, so you’ll take care of her."

I raised an eyebrow, the confusion creeping into my tone. "Am I now a housekeeper? Is she so helpless that she needs me to babysit her?"

I had always bowed to his commands without a second thought, the way every soul under this roof learned to. But today, something had shifted in me. I found myself questioning him, challenging his authority with every word.

His face darkened, his voice dropping low and menacing, the way a man’s does when he’s used to that alone being enough. "Adriana, don’t forget who’s been keeping you. You’re here because of me, and you’ll do as I say. Don’t push me."

I swallowed the bitter taste of my pride, nodding with reluctant compliance, the weight of his words pressing heavily on my chest.

Before leaving, Lorenzo issued one last warning, his voice low and edged with authority. "Bianca’s young. You’re responsible for her while I’m gone. If anything happens, don’t think I’ll let you off easy."

With those words lingering in the air, Lorenzo leaned down to kiss Bianca’s forehead, a tender, possessive gesture that marked her as his before every eye in the house, then strode out. The sound of the door clicking shut reverberated in the silence like a bolt thrown home.

Now, with only Bianca and me left in the sitting room, the atmosphere shifted. She slouched against the sofa, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips, arriving a half-second too late to be real.

"I heard you’ve been married to Lorenzo for five years," she said, her voice thick with amusement.

"Yes," I replied, my tone calm and measured, betraying nothing of the storm brewing inside me.

"But last night, he told me he’s never touched you!" Bianca’s posture shifted as she tossed her hair back, revealing the dark mark on her neck. "You must be twenty-six by now, still a virgin…" Her words hung in the air, sharp and probing.

She giggled, swaying gracefully like a delicate flower, before continuing, "You must’ve heard us last night, right? Lorenzo is such a tease. He made sure you could hear everything from the next room. Oh, and I almost forgot, you’ve never experienced a man, have you? Especially someone as strong as Lorenzo."

Her laughter was almost too much to bear. "What a shame. At your age, I doubt anyone would touch you, except for maybe you chasing after them, right?"

I furrowed my brows, disbelief creeping into my thoughts. I hadn’t expected the heir’s kept woman to speak with such venom.

Calmly, I answered, "Everyone lives their life differently. I don’t base my existence on any man."

Bianca’s laughter stopped abruptly, replaced by a sneer. "A woman who’s been living off a man, playing housewife for five years, probably has no room to talk, huh?"

I chose not to engage further, sitting down on the opposite end of the sofa as I continued my search for a place to rent.

Bianca couldn’t stand the sight of me remaining so calm and composed. It didn’t take long for her to start pushing my buttons, trying to boss me around as if the Costa blood in her veins outranked the servants in this house.

The last time, she complained that the coffee I made was too cold and demanded I pour boiling water to fix it. Then, with the slyest of smiles, she pretended to spill it. Most of the water splashed onto me while just a few drops landed on her wrist.

Her cry echoed through the room, sharp and dramatic, pitched for an audience that wasn’t there yet.

"Lorenzo, it hurts so much..."

By the time Lorenzo rushed in, his face twisted in alarm, Bianca was already in full meltdown mode.

She showed him the small burn on her wrist, and he fussed over it for a moment before turning to me, his anger flaring.

With a forceful slap, he sent me crashing to the ground. The band on my right hand pressed hard into the marble beneath my palm.

"Didn’t I tell you to take care of Bianca? Is this how you do it?!"

His voice was cold with fury. "If even the smallest mark appears on her, I’ll make sure you suffer ten times worse."

Without another word, Lorenzo grabbed Bianca and swept her off to be seen to, leaving me kneeling on the floor.

I lifted the hem of my nightgown, the red welts on my thighs already burning with the sting of the water. In the silence he left behind, I turned the plain silver band on my right hand once, pressed it hard, and let my face go smooth again.