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The Ninety-Ninth Time He Broke My Heart Novel Cover

The Ninety-Ninth Time He Broke My Heart

For five years, Adriana Valente managed her mafia husband Lorenzo Falcone’s chronic illness with homemade broths. But when Lorenzo is hospitalized for the ninety-ninth time after eating street food with his assistant Gemma, Adriana reaches her limit. Instead of cooking, she sends takeout. Lorenzo doesn't realize Adriana made a secret pact with his mother: if his health relapses ninety-nine times, their alliance is void. With the limit hit, Adriana's flight out is booked for tomorrow.
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Chapter 2

This was the clearest morning I'd had since Gemma slid her way into Lorenzo's life.

Lorenzo doubling over with stomach cramps in the dead of night had become routine, all because he insisted on tasting every greasy scrap of street food there was, side by side with that bright-eyed, guileless little courier of his.

And jolting awake from a dead sleep, simmering healing broths for four or five hours over a low flame, then carrying them across the city to whatever private room the Family kept him in—that had become my routine too.

By this hour, on any other day, the dull ache of a sleepless night would already be rising behind my eyes.

So it turned out that, once I stopped orbiting Lorenzo, even the air tasted clean.

I set the food container down on the sideboard, looked at Lorenzo lying pale against the pillows, and opened my mouth, then closed it, then opened it again.

"Lorenzo, let's…"

Let's dissolve the alliance.

That was what I wanted to say.

Lorenzo lifted his head, saw the sky outside the window already going pale at the edges, and turned to look at me.

"Sweetheart, hurry home and get some rest."

His voice was full of concern.

"Go back and sleep it off. Making you stay up all night stewing those meals every single day—it's really been hard on you."

Looking into his caring eyes, something in me wavered.

The words already at the tip of my tongue hesitated for half a beat.

Then came a soft knock at the door.

Don Bruno stood in the doorway with a stack of files in his arms, the old consigliere's shoulders bent under decades of the Falcone bloodline's business.

"Signor Falcone, I've already pushed back today's sit-downs for you. These are the papers you asked for."

He flipped through his worn memo pad, laying out in neat order all the Family matters that had gone untended because of Lorenzo's relapse.

When he'd finished running through everything, he hesitated, then spoke, choosing his words the way a man does when the answer might cost him.

"Should I send word to Gemma?"

Gemma was Lorenzo's personal courier, the girl trusted with every small detail of his day-to-day life.

By rights, she was the one who should have been here, keeping watch.

But Lorenzo's brow furrowed, and he refused without a moment's pause.

"No need. She was up all night with her games. She'll be sleeping it off this morning for sure."

He paused, then added one more instruction, his hand drifting to press flat against his stomach.

"And don't tell her I'm laid up. No point making her feel guilty."

Don Bruno looked uncertain.

"But I still need to run these papers over to Signor Wiley this morning, and then there'd be no one here at your side. That might be a problem."

Lorenzo was silent for a moment, then let his gaze settle on me.

"Adriana."

"Push through it a little longer, cover the watch for me, and head home at noon."

Something inside me shattered completely.

I blinked, forced the tears back with every ounce of strength I had, and answered brightly.

"Sure, no problem."

My phone buzzed. A message from Serafina Falcone, the Family's matriarch, who'd been pressing me since last night straight through to morning.

【According to the terms we agreed to before, it's time the two of you dissolved the alliance.】

【For the tribute, I'll give you a million as arranged. Don't expect anything more.】

【By tomorrow at the latest, you're to be out of the house.】

With trembling hands, I pressed down hard on the keys.

【Fine.】

Don Bruno came to relieve me right after the midday meal.

I dragged my heavy feet back to the estate and began, piece by piece, to pack my things.

It wasn't until the moment of leaving that I noticed it.

Five years bound in this marriage, and the things a couple finds hardest to part with when they break—all those matching, made-for-two things.

In the home Lorenzo and I had shared, there wasn't a single one to be found.

Every time I bought something like that, Lorenzo would frown and lecture me.

"Anything that leans on the 'couple's' gimmick is never worth the money."

"I have my own things I always use, Adriana. Don't waste tribute on this next time."

I nodded and stuffed the matching sleepwear I'd bought into the very back of the closet.

Yet when Gemma came bouncing over and set a buy-one-get-one-free couple's lighter in front of Lorenzo,

he swapped out his own expensive, everyday one without a second's hesitation.

Calling it, of all things, not wanting anything to go to waste.

When the packing was done, my things didn't even fill a single suitcase.

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