I Heard My Husband Plan My Replacement

I stood in front of the full-length mirror, smoothing the silk of my emerald green gown. It was backless, elegant, and expensive — armor for the battlefield. Sebastiano had booked a private dinner cruise on the harbor, one of the Family's restaurant boats that ran along the waterfront under the guise of a luxury charter service. The kind of vessel where the captain didn't ask questions and the waitstaff had all signed documents they'd never read.

It was his way of cementing the lie, of proving to himself and to me that we were the perfect, happy couple he needed for Don Dalessio's approval.

I walked downstairs. Sebastiano was waiting in the foyer, checking his watch. He looked dashing in his tuxedo, the very picture of a devoted husband. The two soldiers stationed by the front entrance had already opened the doors of the black sedan idling in the drive.

"You look breathtaking," he said, looking up. The admiration in his eyes was real, which only made it more pathetic. He loved the trophy, not the woman.

"Thank you," I said, descending the last few steps. "Are we ready to go?"

"The car is waiting."

He offered me his arm. Just as we were about to step out the door, the click of heels echoed from the hallway.

We both turned.

Catalina was standing there. She was wearing a dress that was less of a garment and more of a suggestion. It was a shimmering, silver slip that barely covered her thighs, with a neckline that plunged dangerously low. Her makeup was heavy, smoky and seductive, and her lips were painted a dark, bruised crimson.

Sebastiano stiffened beside me. His grip on my arm tightened.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his voice sharp.

Catalina smirked, adjusting the strap of her purse. "Out. It's Friday night, Sebastiano. I'm going to a club."

"Like that?" Sebastiano snapped, stepping away from me. "You're practically naked, Catalina. Go upstairs and change."

Catalina rolled her eyes, a petulant gesture that grated on my nerves. "Why should I? You're not my boyfriend."

The words hung in the air, heavy with double meaning.

"I am your boss," Sebastiano countered, his voice rising. "And I am your brother's closest associate. Nico told me to watch over you while you're staying here. What if something happens to you dressed like that? What kind of message are you sending?"

"I can take care of myself," Catalina shot back. "Nothing will happen. I'm just going to a party. Maybe find a boyfriend. Someone who actually has time for me."

She shot a pointed, venomous look at Sebastiano.

I watched them, a silent observer to their twisted dynamic. This wasn't protective concern for a friend's sister. This was jealousy. Pure, green-eyed jealousy. He couldn't stand the thought of another man touching what he considered his property.

"You are not going out like that," Sebastiano growled.

"Watch me." Catalina turned toward the door.

"Stop!" Sebastiano lunged forward, grabbing her arm. He looked frantic. He looked at me, then back at her, his mind racing to find a solution that kept her close and me oblivious.

"Just come with us," he blurted out.

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

Sebastiano turned to me, his smile strained. "Let's just bring her along, Bianca. To the cruise."

"No," I said, my voice cold. "Why would she come? It's our date, Sebastiano. A romantic dinner."

"Come on, honey," Sebastiano pleaded, sweating slightly. "You know how she is. She's just a kid. If she goes out to a club alone, she'll get into trouble. Nico would kill me if anything happened to her. It's safer if she's with us."

"She is a grown woman," I said, crossing my arms. "She can make her own decisions. I don't want a third wheel on our date."

"It's okay," Catalina said, pulling her arm from his grip. Her voice was thick with mock hurt. "She doesn't want me there. I get it. I'll just go find some fun elsewhere."

She turned to leave again.

"Dammit, Bianca!" Sebastiano snapped at me. The mask slipped completely. His eyes were blazing with irrational anger. "Why are you being so difficult? It's just dinner! Why can't you be more understanding?"

I stared at him. The audacity was breathtaking.

"Why are you getting mad?" I asked calmly. "You're shouting at your wife because she wants to have dinner alone with you? Is that unreasonable?"

I stepped closer to him.

"Choose, Sebastiano," I said softly. "Between me and her. Do you want a date with your wife, or do you want to babysit your secretary?"

Sebastiano looked between us. He looked at Catalina, who was waiting with a smug challenge in her eyes. He looked at me, standing firm. He knew he couldn't choose her without blowing his cover.

He clenched his jaw. "Fine. It's you. It's always you, Bianca."

He turned to Catalina. "Stay home. Please."

"Whatever," Catalina scoffed. She turned on her heel and stormed back upstairs.

The cruise should have been romantic. The city skyline glittered against the dark water, the food was exquisite, and a violinist played softly in the corner. Beyond the polished railing, the harbor lights of the Dalessio-controlled waterfront stretched south, every pier and warehouse a piece of the empire Sebastiano was supposed to inherit.

But Sebastiano wasn't there.

Physically, he sat across from me. Mentally, he was miles away. He barely touched his wine. His leg bounced nervously under the table. Every two minutes, he checked his phone, hiding the screen under the tablecloth. His thumb drifted to his wedding band, turning it once, twice, though for once I doubted it was me he was thinking about.

"Is everything okay?" I asked, cutting into my steak.

"What? Yes. Yes, fine. Just… work messages," he muttered, not looking up.

I knew who he was texting. I knew he was tracking her, pleading with her, probably promising her the moon to keep her from going out.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed loudly on the table. He snatched it up. His face went white.

He stood up so abruptly his chair screeched against the deck.

"I have to go," he said.

"What?" I put down my fork. "Sebastiano, we haven't even had dessert. What is it?"

"It's Catalina," he said, panic making his voice shrill. "She went out. She's at a bar downtown. She… she says some guys are harassing her. She's scared."

"Call someone then," I said, taking a sip of my wine. "You have an entire crew at your disposal."

"No! I have to go get her. She's hysterical." He was already moving, buttoning his jacket with trembling hands. "I'm sorry, Bianca. I'll make it up to you. I promise. Just… finish dinner. The driver will take you home."

He didn't wait for my answer. He didn't kiss me goodbye. He turned and ran toward the exit, desperate to save his mistress, leaving his wife alone in the middle of the harbor.

I watched him go.

I didn't cry. I didn't feel a thing.

I finished my wine slowly, savoring the rich, oaky flavor. I signaled the waiter.

"Check, please," I said. "And pack the dessert to go."

When I got home, the house was empty. The soldiers at the gate had let me through without a word, and the hallway was dark. They were probably together now, him comforting her, her gloating that she had won.

But it was okay because in two days I'd be gone, and he'd receive the best anniversary gift ever.