The Don’s Wife Was Never Running

The next morning, I called my lawyer and told him to draw up the divorce papers. Then I drove into Manhattan to the Capelli International headquarters.

The receptionist stared at me in shock when I walked in. "Mrs. Capelli! We didn’t expect you today."

"I’m here to resign," I said calmly.

I walked past her, down the hallway to my office.

My desk was neat, my files were organized, a photo of Vincent and me sitting on a Sicilian beach sat on the corner of my desk.

I picked up the photo, stared at it for a long moment, then put it in the trash can.

The head of HR arrived ten minutes later, her expression neutral but tense. "Mrs. Capelli, are you sure about this? Don Capelli has no idea you’re resigning. He’ll be furious."

I smiled faintly. "He’s got more important things to worry about right now."

She hesitated, then handed me the resignation papers. I signed them without a second thought.

When I got back to the safe house, I started packing my things. I didn’t have much—just a few clothes, some books, and a small wooden box under the bed.

I opened the box, and a yellowed piece of paper fell out.

I picked it up, my hands shaking. It was a note Vincent had written to me the night before our wedding.

Bella,

I don’t know what the future holds. But I know that as long as I have you, I can face anything. I love you more than life itself. Never leave me.

Forever yours,

Vincent

Tears fell onto the paper, blurring the words.

A sharp, stabbing pain hit my stomach, so intense I doubled over.

I gasped for air, clutching my stomach as the world spun around me.

The old bullet wound, acting up again.

The last thing I remembered before everything went black was the sound of my phone ringing.

......

When I woke up, I was lying on the couch. The sun had set, and the room was dark. My phone was still ringing, shrilly, from the floor.

I picked it up, wincing as my stomach protested.

"Isabella!" Vincent’s voice roared through the speaker, so loud I had to hold the phone away from my ear. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

I closed my eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"Don’t play dumb with me!" he shouted. "Sofia just showed me the texts you sent her! Telling her her children are abominations, that they deserve to die! How could you say that?!"

I laughed, a bitter, empty sound. He didn’t even ask if I’d sent them. He just believed her.

"Are you done?" I asked calmly.

He fell silent for a second. "The baptism is this Sunday. You will be there. No excuses. Don’t make me come and get you."

"Fine," I said.

I hung up the phone and threw it across the room. It hit the wall and shattered into pieces.

I lay back on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

I had nothing left. Nothing at all.

The baptism was held at the old Catholic church in Brooklyn, the same church where Vincent and I had gotten married.

I showed up alone, wearing a simple black dress.

The whole room turned to stare at me as I walked in. I could feel their pity, their judgment, their curiosity.

At the front of the church, Vincent stood beside Sofia.

He was wearing a black suit, his hair combed back perfectly.

Sofia was wearing a white lace dress, her arm linked through his, the diamond necklace Vincent had given her glinting around her neck

She looked like the Don’s wife. Not me.

The old Don walked over to me, his face stern. "Go stand with your husband."

I didn’t move.

The ceremony passed in a blur. I didn’t hear a word the priest said.

I just stared at the two babies in the priest’s arms, wondering how two screaming brats had burned my whole world to ash.

After the ceremony, everyone moved to the mansion for the reception.

The old Donna cornered me by the buffet table. "Go hold one of the boys. It’s your duty as their godmother."

I sighed and walked over to Vincent. He was holding Luca, bouncing him gently in his arms.

He looked up at me, his eyes softening. "Bella, about the texts—"

"I didn’t send them," I said.

He hesitated, something unreadable flickering in his eyes, then held out the baby to me. "Would you like to hold him?"

I took the baby from him, my arms stiff. He was warm and soft, his tiny hand wrapping around my finger.

Vincent leaned in, his voice low.

"Bella, I have a plan. After today, I’ll send Sofia to Switzerland. She’ll live there, comfortably, for the rest of her life. The boys will stay here, and they’ll be raised as yours. No one will ever know the truth. It’ll be just like it was before, I promise."

My heart shattered into a million pieces.

Just like it was before? How could it ever be just like it was before?

He’d cheated on me, had children with another woman, and now he expected me to raise them as my own?

"Vincent," I said, my voice shaking. "I can’t do that."

Before he could answer, Sofia screamed.

"The heirloom has gone!"

Old Don Capelli flew into a rage, ordering the entire estate locked down. Everyone was to be searched.

In the end, the bodyguards found the silver cross inside my handbag.

Sofia's hand flew to her mouth, and a single tear slid down her cheek. She swayed slightly, as if about to faint, and Vincent was instantly at her side.

"Mrs. Capelli, I know you hate me. Hate my boys. Take it out on me if you must, but don’t curse the children."

Every eye in the room turned on me. Old Don Capelli pointed a finger in my face and snarled, "The Capelli family has no place for a woman as vicious as you!"

I was practically thrown off the estate. By the time I got back to the safe house, it was well past midnight.

In the small hours of the morning, Vincent showed up.

I woke up and walked over to Vincent.

I handed him the divorce papers and a pen. "Sign."

He stared at me for a long moment. "You’re really going to do this?"

"I’m tired," I said.

Vincent snapped. He knew the bullet I'd taken for him had shredded my stomach, that even a sip of hard liquor would make me bleed out.

He jabbed a finger at the bottle of 150-proof Polish Spirytus on the bar. "Fine! You want a divorce? Chug this entire bottle in one go, and I’ll sign the papers right now. If you can’t, you never mention the word again."

He was certain I’d never do it. It was just a desperate, angry threat.

Without a word, I walked to the bar, grabbed the bottle, twisted off the cap, and started pouring it down my throat.

Vincent panicked instantly.

He lunged forward, snatched the bottle from my hand, and smashed it against the floor.

Shards of glass scattered everywhere. He grabbed me by the shoulders, his voice shaking. "Are you insane?! Do you have a death wish?!"

I pushed him away coldly. "Will you sign now?"

Vincent stared at my ashen face, a mix of rage and agony in his eyes.

Finally, he relented. "Fine. I won’t force you. Take all the time you need to cool off. Do whatever you want, go wherever you want. I won’t interfere."

He turned and headed for the stairs, then paused halfway up. Over his shoulder, he said, "Come back when you’re done running."

I stood alone in the sea of broken glass, and finally, the tears came.

I turned and ran out of the house.

It was pouring rain. I ran down the street, not caring where I was going, the rain soaking me to the bone.

I turned down a dark alley, trying to catch my breath.

And then I saw them.

The lead hitman raised his pistol, aiming it straight at my chest. "Mrs. Capelli. Someone paid a lot of money for your head. Don’t blame us."

I didn’t panic. I just wondered.

"How much did she pay you? I know it was Sofia who sent you here.”

The hitman laughed coldly. “You are smart, but if we don’t kill you, our wives and kids die.”

My grip on the gun in my pocket tightened until my knuckles turned white.

I knew the negotiation was over. There was no way out.

The hitman’s finger tightened on the trigger. "Goodbye, Mrs. Capelli."

Gunshots rang out. The alley became a river of blood and rain.

Before everything went black, I saw a man in a black coat walking toward me through the rain.

......