The Mafia Don Who Lost His Bride

Ivo must have sensed the turmoil behind my silence, because he pressed on.

"You're doing the right thing, Dominic. Chiara is part of this Family. Your father's oath binds you to protect her. That is sacred. That is debito d'onore. Neve will understand once the anger has passed and she can think clearly."

I turned back to him, doubt still heavy in my chest.

"You really believe that?"

"I'm certain of it." A note of quiet confidence threaded through his voice. "Don't let this consume you. It's nothing. Neve is hurt right now, but she will realize you were fulfilling your duty. Nothing more."

I nodded slowly. I had been so tangled in guilt and frustration that doubt had started to poison everything, distorting my judgment about what this would mean for us. I was doing the right thing. I could not be in two places at once. What I did for Chiara was what any Don would have done. What my father would have expected me to do.

"I just don't want to lose Neve." The words came out barely above a whisper, and I hated how vulnerable they sounded in the stillness of that room.

"You won't." Ivo's voice carried the weight of absolute conviction. "Neve loves you. That's precisely why this is hitting her so hard. But she'll come around. The two of you have been bound together too long for this to be undone by a single incident."

I let out a long breath, and some of the iron tension in my chest began to loosen. Ivo was right. He was always right about these things.

"Thanks, Ivo. I needed to hear that."

He smiled, and there was a glint in his eyes that caught the lamplight.

"Anytime. That's what I'm here for."

I pushed myself up from the chair, feeling lighter than I had since the moment Neve's voice had gone cold on the other end of that call. The conversation with Ivo had helped, but I still had a great deal of damage to repair. The fracture between Neve and me was real, and no amount of reassurance from my underboss could mend it. Only I could do that. But at least now, the guilt was no longer drowning me.

"I'll talk to her later tonight. Give her time to cool down first."

"Smart. Neve has a soft spot for you, Dominic. Always has. Use that to your advantage."

We walked to the study door together, and for the first time in hours, I felt prepared to face whatever came next.

Ivo clapped a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm and familiar.

"You've got this. Just remember you're not alone in this."

"Thanks, Ivo."

He left, and the weight on my shoulders had lifted enough that I could breathe again. But now came the harder part. I had to find a way to make things right with Neve.

I drove across the city to the apartment Neve and I shared. It was our private space, separate from the compound, the one place where we were not the Don and his betrothed but simply two people who had chosen each other. Or so I had believed.

When I opened the door, the apartment was dark. The kind of dark that had nothing to do with the hour and everything to do with absence.

"Neve?"

My voice echoed off the marble floors and died against the walls. No answer. I moved through the rooms, checking the kitchen, the living room, the bedroom. Everything was in its place. Everything except the things that mattered.

Instinct seized me, cold and sudden, and I walked to the closet. I pulled the doors open.

Empty. Every hanger bare. Every shelf cleared. Her shoes, her coats, the small leather case where she kept her grandmother's rosary. All of it, gone.

Neve had left me.

My legs gave out, and I sank to the floor of the closet, surrounded by nothing but the faint ghost of her perfume and the hollow click of empty hangers swaying in the draft. The silence pressed in from every side, absolute and merciless, and for the first time since I had become the Don of the Valente Family, I felt completely and utterly powerless.