After Eighteen Broken Promises

Eight years into my time with the Moretti family, I was both their most capable core member and Don Dominic's wife of three years—but we'd never actually signed the marriage contract.

　　Every single time we were about to go to City Hall to register, he'd ditch me for his female subordinate.

　　The first time, he left me waiting on the side of the road all day because she was sick and weak.

　　The second time, he dumped me halfway there because of one phone call from her.

　　After that, I got stood up again and again.

　　After being stood up for the seventeenth time, I decided to give them what they wanted.

　　I accepted the invitation to a top-tier medical project in Paris, packed my bags, and boarded a plane.

　　But when I actually left, he lost his mind...

Dominic and I had been together for eight years. He was the Don of the Moretti family.

In New York's underworld, everyone called me Donna.

Three years ago, we had a wedding at St. Patrick's Cathedral. Every major mob boss in America showed up. The whole thing was massive.

But only I knew the truth. That marriage contract, the one that would've given me legal protection—Dominic never signed it.

Today was his victory party for taking over Brooklyn territory. It was also the seventeenth time he'd promised to take me to City Hall after the party ended.

The banquet hall was thick with smoke. Expensive cigar fumes mixed with the smell of bourbon everywhere.

I sat next to Dominic. My body was burning up.

I had a fever. 103 degrees. My head felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it.

"Dominic, I can't hold on much longer." I leaned over to him, my breath coming out hot.

"Just hang in there, Elena." He casually patted the back of my hand, his tone completely flat. "You need to be here today. All the Moretti family's books are in your head. Those old foxes need to see you sitting here to feel confident this deal is solid."

A few crew leaders with scarred faces walked over holding glasses of bourbon. Deep down, they looked down on women. But they feared Dominic, so the only way they could reclaim their pathetic male ego was by making me drink.

"Ma'am, you gotta drink this one for the Don. All these years, without you keeping his books straight, the family couldn't have held onto this throne."

I stared at that dark brown liquid. My stomach cramped.

Dominic still wasn't looking at me.

He was methodically cutting into his bloody steak, then smoothly forking a piece and placing it on the plate of the girl sitting beside him.

That was Mia. His new protégé he'd been personally training for the past two years.

I took the glass and downed it in one gulp. The harsh alcohol burned like fire straight into my lungs, triggering a violent coughing fit. I desperately suppressed it in my throat, clinging