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.”
I never had a pleasant life. Like, at all. Or maybe I did, but it vanished when I was fifteen.
“You’re not my daughter. You belong to the elder bloodline of the Lombardi Familia.”
Those were my mother’s final words before she died.
She confessed everything in front of the very people she claimed were my true parents. I didn’t even get a moment to mourn.
The truth broke open and the Lombardi elders heard it, along with a ranking member of the Commission who happened to be present.
To contain the scandal amongst ourselves, they confirmed the story and fed explanations I never asked for. Nothing eased the shock in my chest, or the anger boiling beneath it.