Seven Years as the Don’s Wife, Only to Be Replaced

And he was the patient man who endured it all.

But this time, he had miscalculated.

Only those who still care make a scene. Only those who still hope will fight.

A heart that has already withered does neither.

When Dominic came through the front door, two soldiers trailed him to the threshold before peeling off to their posts outside. He was holding a bouquet of roses. The petals were wilted, their edges damp and curled, as if they had already been used and discarded before being brought here.

I was lying on the sofa, casually scrolling through my phone, completely indifferent to his arrival.

He scoffed when he saw me. "Why haven't you cooked dinner? Still mad?" His tone was full of impatience.

"Enough is enough," he continued. "Haven't you always wanted flowers? I bought them, didn't I? So stop sulking."

He threw the bouquet in front of me, as if tossing something insignificant.

There was a time when I would have been happy. I used to envy women at Sunday Mass clutching fresh bouquets their husbands had brought, their faces filled with quiet joy.

I had mentioned it to Dominic many times, hoping for something simple, something ordinary.

But every time, he responded with irritation. "If I'd known you were this vain, I wouldn't have gotten involved with you."

"It's not that I can't afford it," he said coldly. "But you, Bianca, what have you achieved? You're just a woman who cooks and keeps house. Do you even deserve it?"

He called me lazy. He called me materialistic.

Yet he conveniently forgot that it was he who persuaded me to step away from my work at the Bellavia family's last legitimate front, who promised me a future, a marriage, a life bound to his. He said the alliance would protect my family's name. He said I would never want for anything.

I believed him. I gave up everything for him.

And in return, I became nothing more than a servant in his eyes.

He was too stingy to buy me a single fresh rose, yet he had no hesitation when it came to Serafina.

For her, he set up a safehouse. For her, he prepared countless flowers.

Not long ago, I saw Serafina's post. They were soaking together in a bathtub filled with rose petals, laughing and playing like lovers without shame.

After ruining those 9,999 roses, they picked out a few intact ones and brought them to me, as if I should feel grateful.

I looked at the wilted bouquet in front of me, disgust rising in my chest.

Without hesitation, I lifted my foot and kicked it away.

Then I raised my eyes to Dominic, my voice calm and steady.

"I don't like dirty, second-hand things."

I paused for a moment, then added,

"And I dislike dirty, second-hand men even more."

Upon hearing my words, Dominic's face darkened instantly, his expression turning cold and displeased. His hand went still at his side, the signet ring motionless against his thumb. His voice carried a sharp edge as he snapped, "Bianca, what right do you have to speak to me like that?" He took a step closer, his tone growing even harsher. "Don't forget, you're living under my roof. My protection. My name keeps your family breathing."

For a brief moment, I almost laughed at the absurdity of it. In the seven years of our arrangement, we had always split expenses equally. Even after I stepped away from work, I had been using my own savings, carefully budgeting every cent. Not once had I truly depended on him.

I wanted to argue, to expose his hypocrisy right then and there. But before I could say a word, the oven suddenly beeped, cutting through the tense silence. The sound felt strangely grounding. Too tired to continue the argument, I simply turned away, put on my gloves, and carefully took the cake out of the oven.

Dominic frowned slightly as he stared at the cake, his gaze lingering on it for a few seconds. Then, as if something clicked in his mind, his expression softened just a little. "Is today… your birthday?" he asked, his tone no longer as sharp.

Today was my thirtieth birthday. It was also the seventh anniversary of being bound to him. I had spent the entire day in the kitchen of this guarded house, carefully baking this cake by hand, hoping that we could celebrate together once he came back from whatever sit-down or back room had kept him. It was a simple wish, yet it now felt almost laughable.

Perhaps out of a trace of guilt, Dominic took the initiative to find some candles. He placed them awkwardly on the cake and hurriedly said, "I've been really busy lately. Family business has been overwhelming. I'll make it up to you." He paused briefly before adding, "How about this afternoon, I take you out to pick a new alliance ring? Bigger stone. Something people notice."