Discarded Love, The Reaper's Regret

My husband, Dante Moretti, the feared Underboss, signed the divorce papers I slipped him without a glance. Too busy texting his true love, Sofia, he was blind to the annulment decree ending everything. The Reaper couldn't see the death of his own marriage.

For three years, I was Elena, his silent wife, the "Caged Canary," cleaning his messes while meticulously planning my escape from our loveless world.

He dismissed me for Sofia's every whim, publicly shaming me after a past love letter was read, then abandoning me again for her fake crisis.

That night, he violently shoved me against a wall, leaving me bleeding and concussed, rushing instead to protect Sofia. Discarded and injured, my invisible love became a weapon against me.

His crushing blindness, the cold realization I was a mere placeholder, fueled a profound injustice. How could he be so lethal, yet oblivious to his wife, favoring the one who betrayed him?

With chilling resolve, I uploaded Sofia's confession, initiated a massive financial transfer dismantling his empire, and staged my own death. Under a new identity, I fled to San Francisco, ready to build my power, far from his bloody, deceitful world.

Chapter 1

Elena Vitiello POV

I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved.

He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half the criminal underworld in New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again.

"Done," he said, his voice devoid of any emotion.

That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. The Reaper. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports.

I sat across from Mia in the high-security cafe, watching the rain streak against the bulletproof glass. My hands were folded in my lap, perfectly still. I was trained to be still. I was the Caged Canary, the silent Moretti wife.

"He signed them?" Mia whispered, her eyes wide with horror and a twisted sort of impressed disbelief. "Just like that?"

"He was distracted," I said softly. "Sofia was having a crisis about a broken heel or a chipped nail. I don't remember which."

Mia slammed her coffee cup down. "He is a monster, Elena. A blind, arrogant monster. You've been scrubbing his blood out of his shirts for three years. You saved his family's alliance when that little brat ran off with a civilian. And he treats you like furniture."

"Furniture is useful," I corrected her, taking a sip of my tea. It tasted like ash. "I am less than that. I am merely ornamental. A placeholder."

I looked out the window. A convoy of black armored SUVs glided to a precision halt at the curb. The pedestrians scattered like pigeons. They knew that formation. They knew who was inside.