The Ninth Time He Left

Three years into my arranged marriage with the Valachi family heir, the one that got away came back.

He left me for Julia eight times.

The ninth time, he left me bleeding on the side of the road with a gunshot wound to go running to Julia, who’d called him because she felt a little dizzy.

"She needs me. You get that, right, Leona?"

This time, I didn't fight for him.

He didn't know about the bet I’d made with Julia. The ninth time he abandoned me, I would be the one to leave for good.

So on his birthday, I left a set of signed divorce papers on his desk and got on a plane.

After Isak's old flame, Julia, came back to town, she made a bet with me: he gets nine chances to choose between us in life-or-death situations. The one he abandons for the ninth time has to walk away.

I agreed.

The ninth time, a single phone call from Julia was all it took for Isak to leave me on the side of the road again.

"Drive! Go!"

Isak's voice was sharp, laced with a panic I'd never heard before. I clutched the gunshot wound in my stomach, blood seeping through my fingers, staining my white silk shirt.

"Isak, wait for me—"

Slam! The car door shut.

The engine roared to life, tires screeching as the black BMW tore off without me.

My husband had left me for another woman. Again. All because she claimed she felt dizzy at home—even though we had just survived a firefight, and I was bleeding out in an alley.

I leaned against the cold brick wall, my hand trembling as I pulled my phone from my pocket and called my assistant, Maria, to come get me.

The ninth time.

I thought back to the ridiculous bet Julia had proposed a year ago. "Nine choices, Leona. Let's see who Isak really picks. The loser walks."

The first time was at my mother's funeral. A rival family crashed the service and opened fire. Isak dove to shield Julia without a second thought.

The second time was at his succession ceremony. A bomb went off, and his first instinct was, again, to protect Julia.

The third, fourth, fifth time…

Every single time, he chose her.

And me? Leona Valachi. The family's Underboss. I called the shots for half the city, but for him, I played the fool and made excuses every single time.

"Maybe he just panicked."

"Maybe he thought I could handle myself."

"Maybe he knew Julia was the one who needed protection."

Bullshit maybes.

Footsteps echoed in the alley. Julia appeared at the entrance, her dress spotless, her hair perfect, and that triumphant smirk I hated so much plastered on her face.

"Well, look who it is. The great Leona Valachi, bleeding next to a dumpster," she said, strolling toward me. "That makes nine, Leona. Any last words?"

I looked up, meeting her gaze. "I lost."

I pulled a folded