Married to the Don, Replaced by His First Love

Rico came home early that night.

Instead of coming to the bedroom, he stepped out onto the terrace and lit a cigar. He’d never smoked inside the house after we got married.

Seeing Seraphina again had clearly knocked him off his axis.

I clutched the divorce papers in my bag so tight my fingertips went white. I finally steeled myself, walked out onto the terrace, and handed them to him.

He raised an eyebrow at the document in his hand. “What’s this?”

I tried to make my voice steady, “It’s the...”

I didn’t finish my words, he returned the document to me.

“Forget it. Just sign it yourself. You’ve handled my paperwork before, you forge my signature better than I do. Just get it done. I’m beat today.”

He probably didn’t even care enough to look at what the papers were. Didn’t want to.

That night, as we lay in the dark, he suddenly spoke up. “Why’d you call me earlier today?”

I had no choice but to lie. “Butt dial. Accidental.”

He kept talking, his voice low in the dark. “Yeah. You went to see a lawyer today, didn’t you? For that document. Then you showed up at headquarters. You looking for my signature?”

My heart dropped into my stomach, racing so hard I thought it’d burst out of my chest. My hands shook so bad I could barely control them.

But Rico didn’t seem to pick up on how freaked out I was. He just kept going. “I didn’t have anyone dig into what the agreement was. I trust your call. You’ve handled my shit well enough in the past. Just… family business doesn’t leave the family. From now on, I’ll tell the guards to let you into headquarters whenever you want. Just shoot me a text before you come.”

I forced myself to calm down, and replied. “I understand.”

That night, I dreamed he kissed me, softer and more tender than he’d ever been in real life.

He never showed any real emotion with me. Always cold. Always distant.

And because I’d seen how he loved someone else, I knew for a fact he didn’t love me.

The only person in this whole family who ever listened to me was Vincenzo.

Early the next morning, I sat on a bench outside the shooting range, numb and empty.

Vincenzo saw me there that early, and knew something was eating at me. He walked over slow and sat down next to me.

He saw the mess in my eyes, but didn’t ask what was wrong. He just started talking.

“I’ve been fighting my way through rival crews since I was a kid. And I learned one thing along the way: sometimes, ignorance is bliss. You think there’s no secrets in family? No betrayal?”

“You gotta know when to look the other way, and when to open your eyes and see what’s right in front of you.”

“Right now, you’re stuck between the two. I won’t push you. You’ll figure it out on your own. When you do, go home.”

With that, Vincenzo turned and went back inside.

Yeah. If I just kept my eyes closed, ignored what was right in front of me with Rico and Seraphina, all this hurt would go away, right?

But I knew the truth now. Facing it head-on was better than lying to myself.

I packed my bags that morning and booked a one-way flight out of the country.

Rico glanced at the half-empty closet that night, his voice sharp with a rare note of curiosity. “Where’d all your clothes go?”

I lied, told him I had too many, donated the rest to the orphanage I grew up in. The truth was, I didn’t want to be scrambling at the last minute when I left.

That night, Rico locked himself in his study until dawn.

I stood outside the door, and heard him on the phone, his voice soft in a way it never was with me.

“Seraph, I can wrap things up here whenever. It’s been too long…”

I didn’t stay to hear the rest. I walked back to the bedroom, my face blank, my heart already gone.

He was more eager to end this than I was. He was just waiting for Seraphina to say the word. The second they got back together, he’d hand me the divorce papers, and “handle” me quietly and cleanly.

I’d been an idiot. I’d cared about this unspoken marriage more than he ever had.

The next morning, I dragged my suitcase out the door and headed straight for JFK.

He’d never asked where I was going before. I’d always just sent him a quick text to let him know.