The Don Was Only a Smoke Screen

After returning home from a flight, I realize that my bottle of hair conditioner has run out in the bathroom.

The thing is, my husband, Carlos Zappa, doesn't use hair conditioner at all.

Seeing Carlos through the frosted glass, I decide to probe him for answers.

"Did any guests stay over lately? Or have you started doing hair care?"

Carlos flips through the documents, which are stamped with the Zappa family crest, impatiently at my questions.

"Maybe a maid accidentally toppled the bottle over when she was cleaning the bathroom. Also, why are you annoying me with such minuscule matters?"

When I put on the bathrobe, I feel a ticklish sensation coming from the collar. As soon as I look down, I notice a strand of dried yellow hair being entangled in the collar. The moment the steam dissipates, I see two pairs of intertwining handprints on the bathroom's glass door.

I never thought that my home would grow this popular during my one-week trip away from home.

I've been married to Carlos for three years, and yet this is my first time finding out that he's actually this wild in bed.

So, I secretly text my father, the Don of the Carozza family.

"Dad, Carlos has cheated on me. Does the bet we made three years ago still count?"

My phone lit up with a test message from Dad, Paolo Carozza.

"The bet is still on. The Carozza family will always be supporting you."

His reply was brief yet powerful.

I stared at his words, a bitter taste rising in my mouth. The joke we'd cracked just three years ago turned out to be real after all.

I replied, "You don't have to intervene this time. I'll handle everything myself."

Dad replied at once.

"I'll send Leo to assist you."

Leo Giordano was Dad's Underboss, and he was someone to be trusted.

I gripped the phone tightly in my hands as I stared at the string of numbers on the screen, feeling my fingers running cold.

In the past three years, my husband, Carlos Zappa, had been incredibly attentive to me. He spent millions of dollars on buying jewelry for me, tens of thousands of dollars on private fireworks displays, and even burned his contracts worth hundreds of millions of dollars just to light up my cigarette.

It didn't matter if it were money, power, or love—if he had it, he would grant it to me.

I stood under the fireworks that lit up the entirety of Staples for me all night long, hearing my heart pounding loudly in my chest.

Carlos was the perfect husband in everybody's eyes.

He once even told me, "Sofia, you're the only ray of sunshine in my life." And at that time, I'd completely believed every word he said without ever doubting him.

However, the long, blond strand of curly hair stuck onto the bathrobe and the two handprints pressed against the floor-to-ceiling windows mocked me for my foolishness.

I inhaled deeply, combed