And then, not long after, one of the wives in our circle told me that Colino had acquired a bracelet. Not just any bracelet—a vintage piece that once belonged to European nobility. A princess had worn it to her coronation. It was worth more than most men earned in a lifetime.
So naturally, I thought… maybe he bought it for my birthday. A grand gesture, the kind he used to make when we first fell in love.
But on the day of my birthday, Piper posted on her social media. That exact bracelet—worth millions, irreplaceable, mine by every right of love and loyalty—was wrapped around her slender wrist. In the photograph, a man's hand was holding hers, fingers laced together with intimate familiarity. I recognized those hands. I'd held them a thousand times.
That night, I waited until the last birthday candle burned itself out, the wax pooling on the untouched cake. Colino never came home.
It was the first time he ever forgot my birthday.
After that, he always had some excuse for missing our important dates—anniversaries, celebrations, the milestones that mark a life shared between two people. There was always a sit-down that ran late, a problem with the crew, an emergency that demanded his attention.
At the same time, Piper's social media kept updating with careful, calculated cruelty. His familiar silhouette in the background of her photographs. His ringless fingers holding a wine glass at restaurants I'd never been taken to. His toned body behind a fogged-up shower door, the image cropped just enough to maintain deniability.
Six months ago, we'd signed our blood contract—the marriage certificate that would bind me to the Marconi Family forever. He told me he wanted to give me the perfect wedding. A ceremony worthy of the future Donna.
Now I know… there won't be a wedding at all.
I picked up the phone and dialed his private line. My voice, when I spoke, was cold as the grave.
"You wanted my stake in the Marconi territories, right? The tribute rights you signed over to me?" I didn't wait for his response. "I'm signing them back. All of them."
It was a "gift" he gave me the day he finally won me over—those stakes. A percentage of the Family's legitimate holdings, the kind of security that made a woman untouchable. I told him it was too much, that I didn't need his fortune, only his heart. But he held my hand tight and insisted I sign the papers.