He Chose A Fake Heir Over His True Wife

Catarina DeLuca POV

The annual family dinner was not merely a meal; it was a theater of war masquerading as a gathering.

Crystal chandeliers dripped cold light onto the long mahogany table, illuminating the battlefield where silverware clinked against fine china like striking swords.

I sat at Alex's right hand.

I was the shield.

I served as the barrier between his arrogance and the world's judgment.

For five years, I had smoothed over his rough edges with a practiced smile and a well-placed compliment, acting the part of the dutiful wife.

Tonight, however, I was just a ghost haunting my own chair.

The heavy oak doors creaked open.

Silence swept through the room like a sudden, biting wind.

Aria walked in.

She was wearing red.

Not a subtle burgundy, but a screaming, violent crimson that clashed offensively with the understated elegance of the room.

She was escorted by a soldier, yet she moved with a stride that suggested she owned the very floorboards beneath her feet.

My breath caught in my throat.

This was a violation of protocol so profound it should have been a death sentence.

Mistresses did not attend the Family Dinner.

I looked at Alex.

His jaw was tight, his eyes darting around the room as he frantically gauged reactions.

Panic flickered in his gaze.

He leaned toward me.

"Just politics, Cat," he whispered.

His breath reeked of scotch and lies.

"Keep smiling."

I didn't smile.

I looked at the head of the table.

Don Donato stood up.

The old lion fixed his gaze on the girl in the red dress.

"Welcome," he said.

His voice was a mixture of gravel and absolute authority.

"Please, join us. The future of the family is always welcome."

A collective gasp rippled around the table.

The Don had just endorsed the affair.

He had just legitimized the insult.

Aria beamed.

She strutted to an empty chair directly opposite me.

She sat down and winked at Alex.

I watched the tension drain from Alex's shoulders.

He thought he had gotten away with it.

He believed he could have his cake and eat it too.

Dinner was served.

Veal scaloppini.

I cut my meat into tiny, precise squares, focusing on the geometry to keep my hands from shaking.

I didn't eat.

I just watched.

I watched Aria drink too much wine.

I watched her laugh too loudly at jokes she clearly didn't understand.

I watched Alex look at her with a sickening mixture of lust and pride.

Then, Aria stood up.

She tapped her glass with a fork.

Ting. Ting. Ting.

"I have an announcement," she said.

Her voice was slurred, but dripping with triumph.

She placed a hand on her stomach.

"We are expecting twins."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Then, chaos.

Chairs scraped against the floor.

Capos began to murmur.

Twins.

An heir and a spare.

The succession was secure.

I looked at Alex.

Shock washed over his face, followed instantly by a primal, arrogant joy.

He looked at me.

His eyes were shining.

"Did you hear?" he mouthed.

"Twins."

He actually expected me to be happy for him.

He expected me to congratulate him on replacing me.

The sheer absurdity of it finally broke the dam holding back my restraint.

I stood up.

My chair didn't make a sound.

I smoothed the front of my white dress, grounding myself in the fabric's texture.

I picked up my wine glass.

I raised it in a mock toast.

"Alexander and I are formally separating," I said.

My voice was not loud.

But it cut through the room like a razor blade.

Alex froze.

The joy fell off his face like a shattered mask.

"What?" he asked.

He started to stand up.

"Catarina, sit down. You are hysterical."

"I am not hysterical, Alex."

"I am done."

I turned to leave.

Alex lunged toward me.

He reached for my arm.

But then, a thud.

Aria collapsed.

She slid out of her chair, dissolving into a puddle of red silk on the floor.

"Oh god!" she cried out, clutching her stomach.

"The babies!"

Alex stopped.

He looked at me.

He looked at her.

It was the final test.

He didn't even hesitate.

He turned his back on me.

He fell to his knees beside her.

"Call the doctor!" he screamed.

I stood there for one second.

Just one.

I watched him stroke her hair.

I watched him panic over a woman who was clearly faking a faint to keep his attention.

My heart became a hollow cave.

The wind whistled through it, finding nothing left to break.

I turned around and walked out of the banquet hall.