The Don’s Other Woman Was His Real Wife

“I understand, Mrs. Vitali. You have my word.”

Getting Luca to never see me again was easy.

After the ambush all those years ago, Interpol and Europol had put him on a permanent watchlist, a lifetime ban from leaving the European Union.

If I got on a plane to Argentina, to Buenos Aires, the Vitali family’s reach could never stretch that far.

He’d never find me.

Suddenly, an Instagram notification popped up.

From Sofia.

I tapped it open.

There were photos of her and Luca’s stamped, signed marriage certificate and shots of their hands intertwined, the Vitali family crest glinting on a ring on her finger.

They had already married, and I had become the other woman.....

I was in excruciating pain.

But it was also good this way.

My leaving would give them exactly what they wanted.

I knew Luca better than anyone.

He’d never let her post this, not if he wanted to keep it from me.

She was rubbing it in my face, plain and simple.

The second I backed out of Instagram, a text from Luca popped up.

Isa.

Isa. Heading to Naples on family business, won’t be back for a few days. Watch yourself.

I replied with a single Okay, set the phone down.

The next morning, I was up before the sun, at the consulate to file for an expedited immigration visa.

The clerk promised it would be processed in two weeks, and for the first time since that night in the Lincoln, the tight knot in my chest loosened a little.

In the cab on the way back, I saw another post from Sofia.

This time, half of Luca’s broad frame was in the shot, their hands laced together, the geotag pinned to a cliffside villa on the Amalfi Coast.

On the third day, I walked into the Vitali family’s underground casino headquarters, and handed in my resignation.

This was the operation I’d run for five years, the one that had made him over a hundred million euros. I didn’t want a single thing to do with it anymore.

I carried my box of things back to the estate, and opened Instagram again.

Sofia’s new post was up: her in a custom couture wedding gown, the Vitali family heirloom diamond ring on her finger. The same ring Luca had promised me, a hundred times, said he’d put it on my finger the second he’d wiped out all his enemies.

I let my silent tears soak the bedsheets beneath me.

On the fourth day, I woke up to another post.

This time, it was a full wedding portrait, Sofia curled into Luca’s chest, smiling like she’d won the world.

I stared at the wedding photo for a long time, and then my phone received an encrypted message.

How’s it feel seeing the wedding license? You’d look pretty in this dress, too. Shame the other woman always stays the other woman.

I didn't reply, because I knew it was Sofia’s blatant provocation.

But she was right, I was just a third party.

All I could do was leave, leave forever.

That evening, I cleared every last thing of Luca’s from my room.

The custom crest bracelet he’d had made for me, the 9mm with my name engraved on the grip he’d given me for protection, the matching leather wallets we’d bought together.

I left nothing.

It was well past midnight by the time I finished.

I was just about to turn off the lights when the front door clicked open.

Luca was home.

He froze the second he stepped into the room.

“Where did all your things go?”

“I didn’t like them anymore. Threw them out. I’ll buy new ones.”

He nodded, but his gaze locked on the resignation papers sitting on the desk.

“You quit the casino?”

“I’m tired. Wanted to take a break.” I spoke calmly, tucking the immigration paperwork peeking out from under the file into my bag.

He didn’t push it. He just stepped forward, wrapped his arms around me, and pressed his chin to the top of my head.

“I’m sorry I was gone. It’s your birthday in two days. Tomorrow I’m taking you to closed-door private auction house in Palermo. Anything you like, it’s yours.”

I didn’t say no.

I knew he had another reason for taking me to the auction.

He’d never let Sofia come to harm, and he’d be there to buy whatever she took a liking to.

The next night, we’d just sat down in the auction hall’s private box when Sofia sauntered in, and dropped herself into the seat right next to Luca.

Just as I’d suspected, Sofia showed up.

All night, Luca kept his head turned to me, didn’t glance at Sofia once.

The second the auction ended, he took my hand and led me quickly toward the stairs.

Before we could leave, I ducked into the ladies’ room.

When I walked out, I found Sofia cornered by three young men, heirs to a rival family that had hated the Vitalis for generations.

“Well, look who it is. The Lombardi princess. You ran off and left Luca for dead when he couldn’t speak, and now your family’s broke, you’re gonna get sold to a don old enough to be your grandfather. Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

One of them stepped closer, grabbing her wrist.

“You’re still pretty. Why don’t you come with us? We’ll treat you better than that old fuck.”

He never finished the sentence.

A single, deafening gunshot rang out.

Luca stepped out from the stairwell, his gun still smoking in his hand, his face black with rage.

“Fuck off.” The word was ripped from his throat, rough and gravelly, his gun aimed straight at the men’s heads.

“You so much as breathe the same air as her again, you’re dead.”