Racing My Heart to You

My birthday dinner was held in the gilded hall of the Moretti estate.

Besides my own family members, Vito had also invited the core figures of New York's five major Mafia families.

My friends, still in the dark, kept trying to console me. "It's okay, this banquet is just as good as being there. Your husband is just looking out for you."

"Yeah, look at all the heavy hitters he invited for your birthday. Enough to make anyone jealous."

I met my friends' envious gazes, a bitter taste in my mouth.

They didn't know that my husband, who should have been at my side, was parading Isabella through the heart of the underworld, introducing her as if she were the guest of honor.

It was time to cut the cake.

A waiter pushed a massive, seven-tiered cake to the center of the hall.

I saw right away that something was wrong. I had ordered a custom race car-shaped cake from a top pastry chef. It was supposed to have a fiery red body, silver wheels, and my favorite sports car elements on top.

But the cake before me was a simple pink. I walked over quickly to inspect it. On top were the words "Welcome Home."

My birthday cake had been swapped for one celebrating Isabella's return.

"What's going on? This isn't the super cool race car cake you ordered, Lily. Did they make a mistake?"

"Maybe it's the cake from the banquet next door? How could the staff screw up something as important as a birthday cake?"

My friends were either indignant on my behalf or questioning the Moretti family's competence.

Only I knew the truth. The waiter hadn't made a mistake. This was a carefully orchestrated move by Vito and Isabella.

Vito walked over, pulling Isabella to stand between us.

They stood so close they looked less like siblings and more like a perfectly matched pair.

"The cake is right."

"Today is both Liliana's birthday and the official welcome ceremony for Isabella, who has just returned to the family."

Isabella stepped forward, becoming the undisputed star of the show. She smiled slightly. "It's a pleasure to meet you all!"

Vito moved closer to me, tugging at my wrist, his tone coaxing. "Are you angry now?"

"Don't worry, your race car cake is in my study. We'll cut it together after the party, just the two of us."

It was the closest he ever came to pleading. In the past, whenever he did this, my anger would melt away, no matter how furious I was.

But this time, I coldly pulled my hand away.

Astonishment flashed in Vito's eyes. He opened his mouth to say something else,

but I had already turned away, picking up a beautifully wrapped gift box.

"Vito, I want to give you a gift."

Seeing the exquisite gift box in my hand, he let out a breath of relief.

That's right. I loved him that much. I even prepared a surprise for him on my own birthday.

That vague, unsettling feeling in his gut was probably just him overthinking things.

Just as Vito was about to take the gift box, Isabella's triumphant voice came from behind him. "Vito, shouldn't we move on to the next part?"

Vito glanced at me, a flicker of conflict and hesitation in his eyes. But after touching the gift box, he pulled his hand back.

"Open it when we get home."

He pushed the gift box back into my hands and strode toward Isabella.

I looked down at the box in my hands and felt a little regretful.

Because Vito would have been very "happy" to see that gift. It would have been the perfect way to publicly announce his true relationship with Isabella.

It was a divorce agreement.

The only gift I was giving myself for my twenty-fifth birthday.

Amid the cheers, Isabella moved to cut the cake.

It was as if everyone had forgotten that I was the one whose birthday it was.

No, Isabella hadn't forgotten.

She walked up to me with two glasses of champagne, feigning intimacy as she went to hug me. "Liliana, happy birthday!"

The moment she pressed against me, the heel of her stiletto came down hard on my unsuspecting foot.

At the same time, the champagne in her hand "slipped," drenching the front of my gown.

The sticky liquid ran down my skin and soaked into my dress, a complete and utter mess.

"Oh, I am so sorry, Liliana, I lost my balance..." she gasped, covering her mouth in a pitiful act.

I had always been one to return a favor. Even as I fought through the sharp pain in my foot, I raised my hand to slap her hard across the face.

But a large hand caught my wrist in mid-air, the grip so tight I thought it would shatter the bone.

Vito shielded Isabella, his eyes turning hard. "She didn't mean it. It was an accident."

He lowered his voice, his dark eyes filled with a vicious warning, as if he would cripple my hand on the spot if I dared to let the slap fall.

Isabella hid behind him, out of the guests' line of sight, and gave me a provocative and malicious smirk.

I, a Falcone Principessa, had never endured such humiliation. The rage forced a crimson flush into my eyes.

Vito saw the redness at the corners of my eyes. His jaw tightened, his hard features stiffening for a split second.

He took out a handkerchief and carefully wiped my face. "Alright. It's your birthday. Be happy."

I found him utterly hypocritical.

I slapped his hand away without expression and quietly waited for the final event of the evening.

"And now, I would like to announce the new director of the Moretti family's E-Customs bespoke tuning studio."

This was the part I had been most looking forward to, because this studio was my creation, my passion project.

At first, Vito had just let me play with it to keep me happy. He never expected me to achieve top-tier results in the industry.

"Let's welcome Miss Isabella Moretti!"

The champagne flute in my hand shattered.