The Woman Who Left the Mafia Boss Behind

Selina's POV

Without warning, Lorenzo’s lips curved into a smile—and I knew instantly that it wasn’t meant for me.

“I’ll make it up to you another day,” he said casually. “Francesca just sent word that she’s already downstairs. We have to head to the syndicate office immediately.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but the sound of his footsteps moving away told me it was pointless. He was already leaving the room.

I rose from my chair just in time to hear Francesca’s voice echoing from the entrance hall, clear and cheerful.

“There you are, Lorenzo!”

“My Francesca,” he replied softly, his tone intimate enough to make my chest tighten.

Their voices faded as they moved toward the driveway, meaning they were heading for the car together.

Lorenzo was the Don of the Blue Moon Syndicate. No one—absolutely no one—addressed him by his first name without permission. Not capos, not lieutenants, not associates.

Except me.

So why was he allowing her to do it so easily?

Was I really expected to believe their relationship was strictly professional?

Then I heard his voice again, lighter this time. “I picked these up for you. I know roses are your favorite.”

My breath caught.

So I hadn’t been wrong after all.

The roses were never meant for me.

He had never once bought me roses—not in five years of marriage.

I exhaled slowly, my chest heavy with a feeling I couldn’t shake.

I knew they were headed to the syndicate headquarters for business. That much was obvious. But the sick, twisting sensation in my stomach told me there was more to it than that.

I wanted to be there too.

As the Don’s wife, I was supposed to stand beside him—to help oversee operations, manage internal affairs, and represent the family when he couldn’t. That was how it had always been explained to me.

Instead, Francesca had taken my place.

What little authority I had left consisted of checking on foot soldiers’ families, visiting the injured in our private clinic, and preparing meals for gatherings. Even those responsibilities were slowly being handed over to her—sometimes she even supervised the kitchen staff herself.

As I stood there lost in thought, voices drifted in from the hall.

“I won,” a woman said excitedly. “I told you he’d give her flowers. It’s only a matter of time before Don Lorenzo makes her his partner.”

I recognized Quinn’s voice instantly.

“I’ve heard they already act like a couple,” another woman—Jenny—added confidently.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Kate said, her voice closer now. “He’s married.”

Quinn scoffed. “Marriage doesn’t mean anything in this world. People say Selina isn’t the one meant to stand beside him. They say Francesca is.”

“And you actually believe that?” Kate asked.

“Of course,” Quinn and Jenny answered at the same time.

Jenny laughed. “I saw them together late Friday night, walking the docks like they had no one else to worry about. It was straight out of a movie.”

The room spun.

My legs gave out beneath me, and I collapsed onto the floor.

They rushed in, panic spreading across their faces.

“Oh—Mrs. Vitale,” Kate gasped. “We didn’t know you were here.”

I didn’t hear anything after that.

---

When I regained consciousness, I found myself lying in bed. Lorenzo stood beside me, arms crossed, irritation written all over his face.

“The hell is wrong with you?” he snapped. “Why didn’t you answer my calls?”

“Because I was unconscious,” I replied flatly as I pushed myself upright.

His expression shifted. The anger softened into something closer to discomfort. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold necklace.

“I was going to ask if you liked this style,” he said.

Nothing stirred inside me. No warmth. No excitement. No flutter of emotion.

“I don’t wear gold,” I replied quietly. “I prefer diamonds.”

His jaw tightened. He dropped the necklace onto the bed. “Then forget it.”

He stormed out, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the walls.

Moments later, the door opened again.

Francesca stepped inside.

She was wearing a diamond necklace—paired with matching earrings that caught the light when she moved.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, her lips curling slightly.

Before I could respond, her eyes landed on the gold necklace.

“Oh,” she said brightly. “Did Lorenzo give you one too? He got me something similar—only mine’s custom-made. Very rare.”

She touched the diamonds at her throat and laughed softly, as if savoring a private joke.

“I’m fine,” I said evenly. “Why are you still here? It’s late.”

She glanced at her phone. “Already nine? I had no idea. I should go.”

She left quickly, still smiling.

I got up and went straight to my closet.

The tears came quietly as I packed my things, folding clothes with trembling hands.

When I finished, the door opened.

Lorenzo walked in.

His gaze flicked briefly to the empty shelves and the suitcase near the closet—but he didn’t comment.

“I’ll be traveling soon,” he said instead. “There’s a meeting overseas. Francesca will be coming with me. We’ll be in the Philippines. Want anything brought back?”

“Nothing,” I replied, sitting on the edge of the bed.

He frowned. “You’re still upset about the necklace? Don’t be childish. I would’ve gotten you diamonds if they hadn’t been sold out.”

I didn’t answer.

His frustration exploded. “You should appreciate that I even thought of you!”

When I stayed silent, he turned sharply. “I’m going out.”

He left.

He didn’t come back that night.

Lying alone, I wondered where he was—whether Francesca was with him, whether he had slept at her place.

The next morning, the door opened.

Lorenzo entered, his suit rumpled, his expression dark.

He looked at me coldly.

“Make me two evening dresses by tonight. They need to be perfect.”