The Don's 99 Betrayals

At the underground black market auction in New York, Lorenzo Moretti won a rare red diamond with a bid so high it made jaws drop.

The entire Commission was waiting for the other shoe to drop—waiting to see me become a joke.

Because in the Moretti family, every time Lorenzo gives away a diamond, it represents another one of his betrayals.

White diamonds are hush money to cover up tabloid scandals.

Blue diamonds mean he had a "slip-up" at some wild party.

Pink diamonds mean I caught him in his private apartment, rolling in the sheets with another woman with my own eyes.

But this time was different. It was a rare red diamond.

Everyone guessed the Don was preparing to divorce me.

Instead, Lorenzo publicly declared his love. He said this red diamond represented a "Blood Oath"—a symbol of his true heart and loyalty to me.

He said that from now on, he would return to the family and pledge his allegiance only to me.

Everyone congratulated me on finally taming the Sicilian Wolf.

I, however, left the signed divorce papers in the safe, and all alone, I left him forever.

"Gently, Caro."

The moment the encrypted video call connected, the sound came through before the picture—Lorenzo’s signature deep voice, raspy with the aftermath of lust.

The camera shook. In a fleeting glimpse, I saw his bare upper body, covered in totem tattoos, leaning against a velvet headboard. A lock of long, chestnut hair was tangled around his muscular waist.

My throat felt like it had been scorched by gunpowder. I asked, trembling, "Lorenzo, where are you?"

The next second, the signal was cut.

It took half an hour for him to call back.

Lorenzo was fully dressed now in an expensive, hand-tailored suit. He was sitting on a hotel terrace in Sicily, swirling whiskey in a glass, his expression impeccably calm.

"Elena, I’m at the safe house. The TV was on, the volume was too loud."

"I’m bringing the diamond back to New York tomorrow. Ti amo. Happy seventh anniversary."

Under the Mediterranean sun, the red diamond in his palm refracted a dazzling, blood-colored light.

On the TV screen behind him, a press conference was playing where he announced that the "Moretti Family will place greater importance on family values."

Lorenzo’s deep blue eyes held a look of devotion that overlapped with the voice on the TV:

"Elena, I couldn't think of a better seventh-anniversary gift. This red diamond represents 'Loyalty.' Are you pleased?"

For a moment, I almost forgot that he had just crawled out of another woman's bed.

My dead heart shamefully sparked with a tiny flicker of hope.

From the day we married in the cathedral, tomorrow would mark exactly seven years.

As the Mafia Don, his reputation as a playboy who drifted through flower gardens of lovers had never changed.

But "returning to the family"—this was the first time he had ever said those words.

I asked cautiously, needing confirmation, "Lorenzo, are you serious?