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The Moretti mansion was covered in roses and balloons for my husband's wedding. Not mine. After nine years of marriage, Matteo Moretti was marrying his mistress, Chloe. I'd put up with his affairs, his family's punishments, and every lie Chloe told. But when she and I were suspended hundr3ds of feet above the ocean, Matteo had ONE choice to make. "Your wife or the woman you love most?" He didn't even hesitate. "I choose Chloe." Then he paid seventy mill!0n d01lars. "Don't save Blair. Let her die." I survived. But the woman who loved him didn't. At the family dinner, Matteo told me Chloe wanted me at their wedding. "What, running away from home again?" "Yeah." He thought I'd finally learned my place. He had NO clue I was already leaving. The next morning, while all of Ironport celebrated their wedding, I stood at the harbor with one suitcase. Nine years of marriage had left me with a few faded clothes, my mother's silver brooch, and half a box of medicine. Then my phone rang. "Your divorce decree has been delivered." "Please deliver it there. Thank you." My wedding gift to the groom. Then I blocked Matteo's number and boarded the ocean liner. I wasn't running away. I was DONE letting him control my life. My mafia husband and I had once been closer than anyone could imagine. We used to change the sheets almost every morning. And somehow, it still wasn't enough for him. So after nine years of marriage, he had spent the last eight and a half keeping a mistress on the side. I had never made a scene over it. Not once. The first rule of the Valenti family code was simple: when your husband played around behind your back, you did not scream, you did not confront the press, and you put his reputation and interests above everything else. So when I caught Matteo Moretti with Chloe Rossi again, I quietly stepped inside instead of making a scene. "Don, I'll take care of the cleanup. No point leaving evidence around to spoil your night." His men froze for
