My Husband’s Mistress Was My Protégé,I Took Back Everything He Stole

I couldn't let the memories go any further. I fought my way out of the dream.

The plane landed, and I took a cab back to the compound alone.

Dominic didn't come back until three days later, in the middle of the night.

"I told you to wait so we could fly back together. Why didn't you keep your word?"

Jolted awake, my head throbbing, I squinted at him through the haze. "You're saying I should've sat in the airport for three days and three nights waiting for you?"

Dominic pressed his lips together. "Forget it. I'm not going to argue with you. Get up and make me some noodles."

I didn't answer. I pulled the blanket around me, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

Dominic dropped his suitcase with a thud. "Marrying a woman like you was the worst luck of my life."

The door slammed behind him. Somewhere down the hall, a soldier on night detail shifted but said nothing. Nobody ever said anything.

I hadn't set an alarm, so I slept until my body was ready to wake up.

Before, I would have been up at six every morning, pressing Dominic's shirts and cooking his breakfast.

Not that it ever satisfied him. He complained that the shirts I pressed were never as crisp as the ones Valentina did for him at the social club.

If I cooked something light and clean, he said it had no flavor.

If I cooked something richer, he said it was greasy and unhealthy.

Hours of effort in the kitchen never moved him the way a single bowl of instant noodles from Valentina did.

If that was how it was, there was no point in falling over myself to serve him.

But today, Dominic had actually made breakfast himself.

He sat eating his congee in the kitchen without looking up. The morning light came through the barred windows of the estate and fell across his hands.

"I'm sad about your mother too. But you don't need to pick fights with me on a day like this."

"What day?" I blinked.

He reached behind him and produced a gift box.

"Serafina, I'm so disappointed in you. You actually forgot our sixth anniversary."

He stopped mid-sentence.

"What happened to your head?"

"While you were making chicken soup for Valentina, I was finishing my mother's funeral arrangements. The altitude hit me. I fell down a slope, cracked my head on a rock, and got caught in the rain."

I spread my hands. "No big deal, though. Her cold was way more serious."

Dominic stared at me, something unreadable shifting behind those dark eyes.

After a long silence he said, "Eat first. I made the seafood chowder you like. Then you can open the gift and see if you like it."

"No need. Today is July twentieth. Our anniversary was June twentieth. That was a month ago. And I'm allergic to shellfish."

A late gift meant nothing to me.

Late concern, late love. I didn't want those either.

The one who loved seafood chowder was Valentina.

The one who loved getting gifts was Valentina.

All I had ever wanted, from start to finish, was for Dominic to be there.

He was quiet for a moment.

"Things have been out of control with the operation. The trip to the mountains was strictly business. Don't overthink it. Valentina's young. A woman your age doesn't need to compete with a girl like that. Besides, there's nothing between us…"

The second Valentina's name came up, Dominic always had plenty to say.

I didn't bother pointing out that a Don and his personal courier don't book one hotel room on a business trip.

So I just said, "You're right."

My tone made him bristle.

He slammed his chopsticks down.

"Serafina, can you stop being unreasonable for once? I keep a roof over your head, food on the table. What more do you want?"

I didn't respond. I was reading the dissolution agreement my consigliere had sent over.

Dominic kept lecturing. "I'm talking to you. What are you doing?"

"All you ever do is read those trashy novels online. That's exactly how your brain got this way. Why can't you learn a thing or two from Valentina? Look at how poised and classy she is."

Before, hearing those words would have crushed me. I would have spiraled into shame and self-doubt. Walking on eggshells. Second-guessing everything. And in the end, apologizing to Dominic in a small, beaten-down voice.

Now, all I felt was that he was exhausting.

"I have somewhere to be." I stood up.

"Serafina, I'm not finished talking!"

He reached for my arm. I flinched away from his touch.

In all these years, when had Dominic ever listened to me until I was done? Every time I said more than a few sentences, he'd get annoyed, slam the door, and leave me alone in the house crying in silence.

Was he really the only one in this blood-union allowed to walk out when he wanted and come back when he felt like it?

I didn't spare him another glance. I got in the car and drove straight to the consigliere's office.