The Don’s Wife Was Never His to Keep

There's an unwritten rule in the Chicago Outfit.

The Don never keeps a mistress for more than a hundred days.

When the hundred days are up, the women he’s finished with always take the money and leave quietly.

Once, someone asked him, unwilling to accept it: “Why?”

Santino Falcone smiled softly.“Because I love my wife.”

Everyone knew that his wife of seven years was his weak spot.

But this new mistress wouldn’t behave.Emboldened by his favor, she sent me a taunting text message.

“Arabella, isn’t your husband cute when he’s asleep in my arms?I’ve got plenty more photos. I can send them to you if you want.”

“I’m his one true love. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll step down and give me your place as his wife.”

I didn’t argue with her.Instead, I generously gave her my wedding ring.

Because what she didn't know was that I had gotten my memory back.

I was never the orphan Santino saved.

I am the long-lost princess of New York’s most powerful family, missing for seven years.

In three days, my brother Matteo’s armored motorcade will arrive in Chicago to take me home.

At the dinner party in the Falcone estate, Fiora held up her hand, showing off the ring symbolizing the Don’s wife on her ring finger to the socialites around her.

Exclamations erupted from the crowd, who then turned mocking glances toward me in the corner.

Santino sat at the head table, his gaze flickering over to me every now and then.

After soaking up all the flattery, Fiora picked up a glass of red wine and walked over to me.

Her gaze fell on my wrist.I wore an extremely rare jadeite bangle.

It was a birthday gift from Santino three years ago. Knowing I loved antiques, he had bought it at an auction for fifty million dollars.

Fiora let out a soft laugh and leaned deliberately close to my ear.

“Arabella, since you’ve already handed over the ring that symbolizes the Don’s wife, don’t you think it’s inappropriate for you to wear jewelry that belongs to the lady of the Falcone family?”

She reached out, trying to touch the bangle.

I took a step back.

Fiora took the opportunity to tilt the glass of red wine in her hand.The red liquid spilled all over my couture gown.

With a sharp clatter, the stemmed glass fell to the floor and shattered into countless pieces.

Fiora immediately covered the back of her hand, her eyes reddening at once, and large tears streamed down her face.

“Arabella, I just thought the bangle was pretty and wanted a look. If you didn’t want me to, you could’ve just said so… why did you push me?”

The music screeched to a halt.

All eyes were on us.

For the past seven years, any woman who dared to challenge me was thrown out of this estate without a second thought.

I once shoved a movie star's head into a freezing fountain in front