Chapter 1

“Consigliere Alfredo, thank you for helping me process the withdrawal from the Family… and the divorce...,” I told him quietly.

The old man who had once been my husband’s closest adviser in the Falcone Syndicate narrowed his eyes at me, suspicion and concern mixing in his stare.

“You’re really going through with this, Valentine? Where do you plan to run once you cut ties with the Don?”

My lips pressed tightly.

What? Did he think I couldn’t survive without the Falcone tied to my name? The city is big, and if my husband wants me gone from this territory, then fine—there are other territories. As long as I can finally live like a real person.

“I have money saved, Consigliere. Seven years’ worth,” I replied. “From my own work.”

Alfredo let out a tired chuckle. He was aging, and soon his son would inherit his chair at the table.

“So this is goodbye to the most reliable Overseer our Syndicate ever had?” He pulled me into a brief hug before stepping back.

“Goodbye…”

With the envelope in hand, I walked away from the Meeting Hall—away from the life that for seven years had revolved around being nothing more than the Don’s appointed Overseer.

Who would’ve imagined I’d fall this low?

And me, of all people, someone who never quit anything in her life. All because I married a man who only needed a respectable bride to polish his public image.

On our wedding day, I thought I’d married the boy I had loved since childhood. I thought I was the happiest woman alive. I didn’t know it was the worst day of his life. To him, I was nothing more than the stand-in for the woman he truly loved.

——

“I’m back,” I called out.

Don Reynold stood at the table, plating food. Anyone else would’ve thought he was acting like a devoted, affectionate husband. But who would know the truth?

“What took you so long at the Hall? You should’ve come home first and handled dinner,” he snapped without even looking at me.

There was nothing romantic about him. He just had no other choice but to fend for himself whenever I wasn’t around. He was hungry, and there was no servant on duty because, according to him, he already had me.

“Sorry…” I murmured, stepping closer and seeing the single plate he’d prepared. Only for himself.

Not surprising. Reynold sat at the head of the table, ignoring me completely, a smug glint in his eyes. It was like... almost pleased that he hadn’t prepared anything for me.

“What do you want?” he asked, voice flat.

“Can you sign these… Don?” I pulled the documents from the envelope.

His face soured instantly. He despised seeing paperwork at home, but he also knew I wouldn’t bring Family documents here unless it was important.

“Can’t it wait?” he grumbled.

“No,” I began, but his phone rang.

His posture straightened like he’d just received a call from God. “Dahlia.”

My eyes shut as soon as he spoke her name.

My sister. The woman he truly loved but couldn’t officially be with.

“Yes, I’m coming. I always have time for you. Stay there,” he said gently.

He hung up and threw a brief side-glance at me before sliding his plate toward me. “Eat. Dahlia needs me.”

“But you haven’t signed the documents. They're important,” I insisted.

His jaw tightened. Without hesitation, he snatched the papers, scribbled his signature across each page, and slammed the pen down.

“There. And stop pushing me. Clean up before you sleep. And make breakfast in the morning. Be useful around here!”

He sounded irritated, but there was something almost satisfied in his expression as he grabbed his coat and left. He didn’t even ask what he had signed.

I slowly opened the documents. He signed the divorce letter. He signed for my withdrawal from the Falcone Syndicate. I was finally walking out of his life and his last instructions were chores.

That’s right. In this house, everything was my responsibility. Not because he wanted a home—no. Because he wanted a maid. He said he didn’t need to hire staff since I existed. That was my role.

To him, I was just like my mother, who once served in my own birth family’s mansion. No matter how I dressed or carried myself, I would always be “the help.”

Even though I was born into one of the oldest founding syndicate in the country, my blood never counted. I was the only one born without the markers of power, and in this world, that made me a curse—a liability. My parents were the ones who suggested swapping me with their maid’s daughter. That girl was blessed with the right signs, the right blood. Born on the same day as me. The daughter they chose.

They always picked Dahlia.

And Reynold, my husband... chose her too.

I was never supposed to be his wife, not unless Dahlia hadn’t disappeared that day. I was the replacement bride. The unwanted woman in this house. The useful Overseer in his Syndicate.

And now, as the envelope slipped closed again, a tear slid down my face.

Now I would be a divorced ex-Donna.

“No one ever chooses me…” I whispered, staring at the plate meant for him, shoved toward me like scraps.

“I choose myself this time, Reynold. By leaving you.”