The Betrayed Wife's Ruthless Mafia Comeback

Katarina De Luca POV:

Donato's question was a gift. The answer was already on my tongue, prepared and polished.

I let my gaze drift over Aria’s ashen face, holding it for just a moment before turning back to the patriarch.

"Father, I'm sure Alessandro was simply... distracted," I said, my tone conveying a perfect blend of respect and concern. "But the family's protocols must be respected. To prevent any further oversights, I suggest that until a full, formal audit can be completed, we temporarily freeze all supplementary credit cards and trust fund accounts held by non-core members of the De Luca family."

The proposal was a stiletto, thin and sharp, aimed directly at Aria's heart. I hadn't used her name, but I had just surgically severed her financial lifeline.

Aria stared at me, her mouth slightly agape, shock and hatred warring in her eyes.

Alessandro started to protest, but he had no grounds. My suggestion was rooted in fiscal responsibility and family rules—his father’s two great religions. He was silenced.

Donato studied me, his old eyes sharp, seeing right through my pretense of propriety. He knew this was punishment. He simply didn't care.

He gave a slow, deliberate nod. "Do it. Mark!" he called to the family's financial officer, who stood sentinel by the door. "Execute this immediately."

Mark bowed. "Yes, Don." He stepped out of the room, already pulling out his phone.

Aria swayed in her chair, all the color draining from her face.

The next afternoon, on Fifth Avenue, the trap was sprung.

Aria was in her natural habitat, a ridiculously expensive boutique, surrounded by a coterie of fawning "friends." She was trying to spend her way out of the fear from the night before.

She selected a new season platinum Birkin, a bag with a six-figure price tag, and slid a black Amex card across the counter with practiced nonchalance.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Diaz," the sales clerk said after the first swipe. "The machine might be having an issue."

Aria's brow furrowed with impatience. "Then try it again."

The clerk swiped it a second time. A single, damning word flashed in red on the small screen: *Declined*.

The clerk's professional smile faltered. The other women in Aria's group stopped their chatter and looked over.

Aria's face flushed a deep, blotchy red. "That's impossible! Use this one!" She shoved another card, a Visa, into the clerk's hand.

Declined.

And another. A Mastercard. Declined.

Her friends began to whisper, their eyes gleaming with malicious delight.

The clerk’s smile was now a stiff, pitying mask. "Ms. Diaz, are you certain... these cards are active?"

The polite question was a slap in the face. The wealth she wore like a second skin had just been publicly stripped from her. She finally understood what I had done. I wasn't just punishing her; I was erasing her.

Humiliation and rage boiled over. "Do you know who I am?" she shrieked, her voice cracking. "I am Alessandro De Luca's woman!"

The clerk took a small step back. "I'm very sorry, miss. But we only recognize the card."

Aria stood there, exposed and powerless, a clown in couture. She threw the handbag back on the counter and fled the store, a storm of angry tears and choked sobs.

She scrambled into her convertible, her hands shaking as she fumbled for her phone. She stabbed at the screen, her wails echoing in the confines of the car as she called Alessandro.

"Alessandro! That bitch Katarina! She canceled all my cards! You have to do something!"