Never to Meet Again

Giovanni, the childhood sweetheart who promised to marry me the moment we were old enough, proposed to my stepsister at my 21st birthday celebration.

During my lowest moment, Corleone, the don of Lanford's most powerful mafia family, publicly declared that I was the woman he had secretly loved for years.

He promised to protect me for the rest of my life and gave me a wedding beyond my wildest dreams.

For five years, he treated me with endless tenderness and devotion.

Then one day, when I was about to tell him I was pregnant, I accidentally overheard a conversation between him and his consigliere.

"Don, it's been five years. You don't even love your wife, yet for Miss Lilia's sake, you've trapped yourself in this marriage. Are you really going to keep suffering like this?"

"Since I can't marry Lilia, it doesn't matter who I marry. As long as I'm here, no one can interfere with her happiness."

Only then did I realize that my five-year marriage had been nothing but a lie.

Later, I discovered that his safe was filled with Lilia’s letters, hairpins, and photographs. Even the journal he never allowed me to see was filled with her name.

[May Lilia rise to the top and see all her dreams come true.]

[May things go smoothly for Lilia, and that she shines brilliantly.]

[Though I cannot stand by your side, I will do everything in my power to clear every obstacle from your way.]

I tore up my pregnancy report, prepared a new identity, and planned a fire.

From that day on, we’d never see each other again.

Just beyond the door, Corleone lit a cigar. His voice was filled with the regret of loving someone he could never have.

"I know this is selfish. But as long as she's happy, I'd pay any price."

"Love always makes people lose their reason." Consigliere Marco let out a heavy sigh. "Once Mrs. Corleone learns the truth, with how she is..."

Before he could finish, Corleone's expression turned cold.

"Enough.

"I'll compensate her with money and status. As long as she never finds out, everyone can be happy."

I covered my mouth tightly and felt my entire body stiffen.

My husband, Corleone—the man who gently held me every night and lulled me to sleep—had carefully woven a lie around me.

I was nothing more than a tool he used to protect the woman he loved.

Hearing footsteps approaching, I hurriedly turned around and fled back to the bedroom.

Then, the bedroom door was gently pushed open.

Corleone's tall figure loomed over me, carrying a faint scent of tobacco. As usual, he wrapped his arms around me from behind. His warm lips brushed the side of my neck.

"Why are your hands so cold? Sweetheart, who upset you?"

The affection in his voice mixed with the cruelty I had just heard in the study made my stomach churn.

I turned to look at him.

"No. I was just thinking about something.