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

The slap rang loudly, and I staggered slightly. Half of my face burned instantly, swelling up as the pain spread.

Still not satisfied, she raised her hand again and began hitting me, just like she used to when I was a child. This time, she didn't even try to hold back, doing it right there in front of the neighbors, in front of anyone who passed along our narrow street where everyone knew the Bellavia name and what little was left of it.

She grabbed the wooden stick leaning by the door and started beating me with it, her strikes fast and forceful. One blow after another landed on my body, each one heavier than the last.

As she hit me, she shouted accusations, her voice sharp and furious. "Dominic already told me everything! Do you have any idea how lucky you are? A man like him is something you'd only deserve after several lifetimes of good fortune!"

"And yet you can't even keep him! Jealous, unruly, acting however you want. You're nothing but a lowly, useless person!" she continued, her words cutting just as deeply as the blows. Somewhere down the block a car idled, its engine low, and I knew one of Dominic's soldiers sat behind the wheel watching this. They were always watching.

Her voice grew louder and more hysterical. "Let me tell you this, no matter what it takes, even if you have to beg or get pregnant, you must find a way to marry Dominic! Otherwise, don't even think about coming back here!"

At that moment, a gust of cold wind swept through the street, and heavy rain began to pour down without warning. The sudden downpour soaked everything within seconds.

Only then did my Hale finally stop. Instead of letting me inside, she stepped forward and blocked the doorway, her body acting as a barrier. She wet her lower lip and let out a small, injured sigh through her nose before she spoke again, and I recognized the ritual. The cruelty was about to dress itself as motherhood.

She threw my belongings out one by one, without care, as if they meant nothing. "Get out!" she shouted. "If you're going to die, then die at the Valente family's house. Don't dirty my doorstep!"

One of my childhood trophies struck my forehead as it was tossed out. The impact made my vision blur for a moment, and warm blood mixed with the cold rainwater as it slowly trickled down my cheek.

I bent down silently, my hands trembling slightly as I sifted through the scattered items on the ground, trying to gather what little pieces of my past I could still hold onto. My thumb drifted to the pale mark on my ring finger where the alliance ring had sat for seven years, and for one breath I let it stay there. Then I forced my hand back to my side and kept gathering.

A black Bentley slowly pulled up beside me, its presence out of place in the pouring rain. The door opened, and Dominic stepped out, holding an umbrella in one hand. His suit was perfect, his signet ring catching the streetlight as rain streaked past it.

With the other hand, he grabbed my arm firmly, his grip tight and unyielding. Without giving me a chance to react, he dragged me toward the car and pushed me inside.

Once the door shut, the rain became a muffled roar against the glass. The interior smelled of leather and cigar smoke and something else. He spoke in a low, controlled tone. "Bianca, have you learned your lesson now?"

He looked at me as if he were granting me mercy. "There's no one in this world who will love you except me. Be a good girl and come home. Apologize properly to Serafina, and you'll still be the future Mrs. Valente."

He took off his coat and draped it over my shoulders. But the moment it touched me, a familiar scent hit my senses. It was Serafina's perfume, lingering unmistakably on the fabric.

I turned my head slowly, looking out the window at the rain-blurred streets. Everything outside looked distorted and distant, just like how I felt inside.

Once, I had believed Dominic was my salvation. I had trusted him with my deepest thoughts, my fears, and my pain, thinking he would understand me better than anyone else.

But now I realized that he had used all of that against me. He had taken my vulnerability and turned it into a tool to control me. Every secret I had whispered in the dark of his bedroom, every fear I had named, he had filed away the way his consigliere filed leverage on judges and union bosses. I was just another asset to manage.

He had never been my refuge. And he was never worth my love.

Only by leaving him, and leaving that so-called home behind, could I truly have a chance at a better life. That thought settled quietly but firmly in my heart.

While I was lost in these thoughts, Dominic's phone suddenly rang, breaking the silence inside the car.

A woman's voice came through the speaker, light and slightly anxious. "Dominic, why aren't you here yet? Everyone's waiting for you."

"They're all teasing me," she continued with a soft laugh. "They're saying how the estate gathering has the boss's wife attending, but the boss himself is nowhere to be seen. I'm running out of ways to explain for you."