Mafia Boss Husband’s Regret After My Death

Lucien kept apologizing, but as I watched him falling apart, I felt not a shred of pity.

If it weren't for his years of indulgence and silent approval, how could Kate have been so audacious?

At the end of the day, they were two of a kind, using each other on this blood-soaked path to power, ready to push the other into the abyss without hesitation.

Suddenly, Lucien shot to his feet. In his eyes, once feared by his enemies in negotiation rooms, I now saw a cold ruthlessness I had never witnessed before.

He pulled out his phone to call the family's Consigliere, Vincent. His fingers trembled so violently he could barely hold the device.

"Vincent, I need you to find someone for me." His voice was hoarse.

I could hear the detective on the other end of the line, asking for details in his usual professional, cautious tone.

Lucien's voice, however, was unnaturally calm. "Serafine. Find her. I need to see her now."

"Serafine? Is this about the arms deal with the British? Or do we need to find her because of Kate's case?"

"No." The whites on Lucien's knuckles were visible as he gripped the steering wheel. The veins stood out on his back of his hand, like twisted cables about to burst.

After what felt like an eternity, long enough for Vincent on the other end to think the call had dropped, Lucien finally spoke in a low voice.

"I just... I need to apologize to her..."

The car shot forward like an arrow from a bow, the tires screeching against the asphalt, a piercing sound in the quiet night.

I floated in the passenger seat, watching Lucien's rigid profile.

The afternoon sun through the car window highlighted the new lines at the corners of his eyes.

Five years ago, he was the rising Don of the Rossi family, powerful and brilliant. His eyes, full of calculation when he smiled, now held new wrinkles. Especially after learning of my grandmother's death, he looked ten years older.

So, after five years, no one stays the same.

Watching Lucien in pieces, I felt nothing but cold indifference.

Five years as a specter had worn down all my sympathy and compassion.

Lucien didn't know that the person he wanted to apologize to had died in a pool of blood in a Brooklyn alleyway five years ago on a rainy night.

What he owed me, what he owed my grandmother, could never be repaid, even if he emptied the entire New York underground arsenal. Some debts, once incurred, can never be settled.

When he returned from the safehouse, Lucien nearly slammed the front door open.

Kate, who was in the living room, immediately plastered on her usual innocent expression.

She held a half-finished glass of whiskey in her hand and hurried toward him. "Lucien! You're back? Did you find Serafine?"

Her voice was as sweet as ever, but it made me sick to my stomach. For the last five years, I'd had to listen to this voice, watch her step-by-step how she manipulated Lucien, how she steered the Rossi family toward ruin.

Lucien ignored her question completely, throwing his car keys onto the marble entryway table with a loud clatter that echoed in the quiet living room.

"Kate, what the hell really happened to Serafine's grandmother?"

Kate's hand with the wine glass paused. She frowned, her expression a perfectly crafted look of confusion.

"Her grandmother? She's fine! I've been transferring the medical fee every month on time! Just last week, the handler told me she was doing well, that all her vitals were improving..."

"Fine?" Lucien let out a cold, bitter laugh. Pulling up the death record from Antonio that he'd seen on his phone, he shoved the screen in Kate's face. "She's been dead for three years! You pulled her security detail and drained her medical fund. Don't you dare tell me you knew nothing!"

The date on the record was clear as day. Kate's face instantly went deathly pale.

She put her glass down, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. I'd seen that little gesture a thousand times—every time she lied.

"Listen... Lucien, let me explain! I had no choice!" Her voice started to tremble, but I knew this was just another act. "There was a mess-up with the arms deal. The buyer wanted more money, so I figured I could borrow a bit from the fund, just for a little while. I'd pay it back as soon as we had new cash flow..."

''Borrow a little?" Lucien took a step forward, his eyes bloodshot.

The eyes that once held nothing but tenderness for me were now filled with a terrifying rage.

"She was the only family Serafine had left in this world! When she took the fall for killing that Sollozzo member, the one thing she asked for was for us to take care of her grandmother! How could you do this?!"

Seeing that Lucien was truly enraged, Kate suddenly dropped to her knees with a thud. Tears welled perfectly in her eyes and slid down her flawless cheeks.

"I was wrong, Lucien! Please forgive me! The Safehouse discharged her against my orders, and by the time I tried to fix things, it was too late... I couldn't find her anywhere, I was just so stupid, I wasn't thinking straight!"

The sight of her pathetic performance made me want to retch.

I remembered the night she bought a new wardrobe of luxury items with the money from the arms deal that I had taken the fall for.

There hadn't been a hint of guilt on her face that night.

I remembered how excitedly she'd shown Lucien the latest collection from Hermès, all while those luxury goods could have funded my grandmother's protection for a decade.

The two of them stared at each other, the atmosphere in the living room thick enough to choke on.

Finally, Lucien sighed, his voice laced with exhaustion. "That's enough. Get up. I'm partly to blame—I shouldn't have given you complete control over the family funds without any supervision."

A spark of hope flashed in Kate's eyes. She thought he was going to forgive her.

She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off with ice in his voice.

"Kate, I'll handle your incident of mistakenly killing deal with the British. But after this is over... it's over between us."

"I've already failed Serafine too many times. I can't continue to betray her."

"Lucien!" Kate's head snapped up, a look of genuine panic on her face this time. Her fear wasn't an act.

But Lucien didn't look at her again, turning to leave. His back looked strangely lonely in the grand foyer. The once untouchable Don was just a man, broken by the truth.

As he reached the door, he stopped—he'd left his jacket in the living room.

He sighed and turned back. This small oversight was about to reveal an even darker truth.

Just as he approached the bedroom, he heard Kate's voice, low and venomous, from inside. The words were chillingly vicious, completely devoid of her usual sweetness.

"...You have to find Serafine, and you have to kill her, no matter what!"

Her voice wasn't sweet now. It was cold and malicious. "Lucien is growing colder toward me. As long as she's around, he'll eventually leave me!"

Lucien, who had been eavesdropping, froze in the doorway, his entire body cold as ice. I saw his lips tremble, but no sound came out.

His expression was too complex for me to read—shock, rage, but mostly a deep, bottomless despair.

Just then, the screen on his phone lit up. A new message flashed into view.

It was from Vincent, a single sentence that would shatter Lucien completely:

"Serafine is dead."