My Dear Don, Reborn from the Ashes, I Don’t Want You

My Mafia husband, Alessio, was sleeping with his stepsister, Sophia.

In the car, the study, the bathroom, even on the dining table, they left evidence of their affair everywhere.

"Sophia, don't worry. Once I solidify my position in the family, I'll give you everything."

"Blair… she's just a tool to secure my position."

In our eight years of marriage, he had whispered the sweetest words in the world to me.

Now, his devotion was worthless.

I didn't cry or cause a scene. Instead, I made a deal on the black market. In two weeks, Blair Greco would disappear from this world for good.

Alessio believed his power was enough to fuel his arrogant fantasy of having Sophia get his preference.

So be it. I'm gone. It means nothing to me. But as for my daughter's blood and for everything I had lost, I swore I would make them pay.

In the house of God, I heard their blasphemy with my own ears.

From the family church's confessional, Sophia's soft voice slithered into my ears like a venomous snake.

"Alessio, when are you going to tell everyone? You promised me."

"Soon, my baby, Just waiting for her to recover from the grief of losing our daughter. It's not the right time."

"Poor girl. The child's true misfortune was having a mother as weak as her. But don't worry, I'll give you a real heir."

"She's my wife, isn't she?" His voice held for a moment, a perfect non-answer. "But I'd much rather be with you right now, baby."

My husband, the new Don of the Greco family, could talk about his wife without so much as flinching, all while his hands were on another woman.

This time, I wouldn't stand for it.

I made an encrypted call to a black market contact.

"Hello, I need a complete set of identity documents," I said in the dim corner of a bar, pushing a stack of cash across the table.

The contact glanced at me, fanned the bills to count them, then slid a small note across the table.

"Ma'am, pick it up at the designated location in two weeks. The identity will go live once the funds clear."

Two weeks. Fourteen days. Enough time for me to erase everything here.

On the way back, the sound of the church choir was ethereal and ironic.

Everyone knew how "deeply" Alessio loved me. In the eyes of the world, I was the only one he cherished.

He was ruthless and bloodthirsty to everyone else, saving his only tenderness and sweetness for me.

On our first night together, he'd seared my name onto the inside of his arm with a tattoo needle.

Our wedding eight years ago stunned all of New York, with the whole of Manhattan lit up by fireworks for me. Even last year, when my phone died and I disappeared for half a day, he mobilized all Five Families to find me.

When my parents died in that accident, he abandoned a