She and Reynold were meant to be. Childhood first-love turned to real lovers. Their engagement was already celebrated between the Lombardi and Falcone families. The wedding was supposed to seal the alliance. But the night before the announcement, Dahlia vanished, and the Lombardi elders had to play their last card for the Falcone deal.
Me.
Now I was here. Trapped in a loveless arrangement. A Don’s wife treated like a glorified house servant.
But today, I end it all.
I packed my clothes and belongings. What mattered fit into a suitcase. Everything else was left to be thrown out. All of it had to disappear before I walked away.
“What’s all this?” Reynold’s voice came from behind.
He’d just returned—from Dahlia’s residence, where he’d spent the night.
“They’re things I don’t use anymore,” I said, referring to the clothes he bought for me out of obligation.
“You’re getting rid of them? That’s not like you,” he said, narrowing his eyes.
Of course he'd notice. I had been raised like a maid’s daughter to never waste anything.
“I’ll donate them to your foundation’s charity. Good for your public image, especially with your new partnership with the city council.”
Reynold's expression shifted in surprise. I’d never spoken like that. Then he slowly nodded, a faint smile tugging at his mouth.
I thought he might thank me. But another voice cut through the room.
“My sister is such a saint. So thoughtful and selfless.” There she was. Dahlia. Wearing a dress I once thought Reynold had bought for me.
She smiled sweetly as she approached him. Then she rushed the last steps and jumped into his arms, bumping a nearby vase.
It fell and shattered just like that.
I gasped. That vase was one of the Falcone family’s most prized heirlooms!
It was a wedding gift from Reynold’s father, etched with our names and joined hands. A symbol of unity between the Lombardi and Falcone.
I always kept it spotless. I planned to bring it with me. Even if my husband was cruel, his parents had once treated me with kindness.
But now it was completely shattered into pieces.
Reynold didn’t react. He didn’t even glance at it. If it meant nothing to him, why should I care?
“Are you hurt? Dahlia, I’m sorry,” he said instead.
He checked her arms for scratches. Apologizing to the very woman who broke it.
“Oops… sorry,” Dahlia murmured, glancing at me.
I swallowed and nodded.
“It’s nothing,” Reynold said. “We can always buy another.”