Too Late For Regret: The Mafia Don's Lost Wife

The following morning, Bennett walked into our penthouse.

I was perched on the sofa, staring blankly at the panoramic view of the city sprawled out beneath us.

My arm was cradled in a sling, a throbbing reminder of the previous night.

He stopped abruptly when he saw me. For a split second, a flash of guilt fractured his expression, but he quickly plastered over it with his usual veneer of arrogance.

"I came to the hospital, but they said you checked yourself out," he said, his voice tight.

"I took a cab," I replied flatly.

He walked over, placing a long velvet box on the coffee table between us.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," he said, smoothing his suit jacket. "It was chaotic. I had to make sure the heir was safe. You understand."

Heir.

Not child.

Heir.

"Open it," he urged, gesturing to the box.

I didn't move.

"It's a necklace," he said, when I remained silent. "Sapphires. To match your eyes."

"I don't want it," I said.

He frowned, irritation creeping in. "Don't be childish, Kelsey. It cost a fortune."

"I don't want your money, Bennett. And I don't want your apologies."

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I know you're upset. But Aria... she's carrying a Vitale. My father expects me to protect that child above all else."

"And what about your wife?" I asked quietly.

"You are my wife," he said, as if that single fact settled everything. "You have the name. You have the status. Isn't that enough?"

"No."

He glared at me, his patience thinning. "You're being unreasonable. I'm trying to make this work."

"You're trying to buy my silence."

"It's the same thing," he snapped.

He started to say more, but his phone rang.

It was the special ringtone.

The crisis line.

He snatched it out of his pocket instantly.

"What?" he barked into the receiver.

He listened, his face draining of color with every passing second.

"The Russos?" he hissed. "How did they know about the shipment?"

He began to pace the room, his agitation growing.

"If the Don finds out we lost that territory... yes. Yes, I'll handle it."

He hung up, looking frantic.

"I have to go," he said, already moving toward the door. "There's a situation."

"The Russos are moving on the Jersey ports," I said.

He stopped dead, looking at me in surprise. "How did you know?"

"I pay attention, Bennett. Unlike you."

He hesitated, torn between the crisis and me. "Look, this is big. If I don't fix this, my position is at risk. I need you to be supportive right now. I can't deal with drama at home."

"Go," I said, my voice hollow. "Save your empire."

He nodded, relieved to be dismissed. "We'll talk later. I'll make it up to you. I promise. I'll protect us."

He grabbed his keys and rushed out the door.

I waited until the elevator doors dinged shut.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Then, I stood up.

I walked to the mantle and picked up the expensive vase he had bought me for our second anniversary.

I held it for a moment, feeling its cold, smooth surface.

Then, I opened my hand.

I dropped it on the floor.

The crash was satisfying, a sharp explosion of sound that signaled the end.

I went to the bedroom and pulled out the boxes I had packed while he was with Aria.

I called the moving company I had scheduled.

"You can come up now," I said.

I looked at my phone.

A text from Bennett: Don't worry. I'll protect us.

I looked at the velvet box on the table.

I laughed.

It was a dry, hollow sound that echoed in the empty apartment.

"There is no us, Bennett," I whispered to the silence.

I took off my wedding ring.

I placed it deliberately on top of the velvet box.

And then I walked out the door, leaving the keys on the counter.

I didn't look back.