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For three years, I was the wife of Don Dante Moretti. But our marriage was a transaction, and my heart was the price. I kept a ledger, deducting points for every time he chose her-his first love, Isabella-over me. When the score reached zero, I would be free. After he abandoned me on a roadside to rush to Isabella's side, I was hit by a car. I woke up in the ER, bleeding, only to hear a nurse shout that I was two months pregnant. A tiny, impossible hope flared in my chest. But as the doctors scrambled to save me, they patched my husband through on speakerphone. His voice was cold and absolute. "Isabella's condition is critical," he ordered. "Not one drop of the reserve blood is to be touched until she is safe. I don't care who else needs it." I lost the baby. Our child, sacrificed by its own father. I later learned Isabella had only suffered a minor cut. The blood was just a "precautionary measure." The tiny flicker of hope was extinguished, and something inside me snapped, clean and final. The debt was paid. Alone in the silence, I made the last entry in my ledger, bringing the score to zero. I signed the divorce papers I had already prepared, left them on his desk, and walked out of his life forever.
Protagonist
: Elara Rossi and Dante MorettiChapter 1
For three years, I was the wife of Don Dante Moretti. But our marriage was a transaction, and my heart was the price. I kept a ledger, deducting points for every time he chose her-his first love, Isabella-over me. When the score reached zero, I would be free.
After he abandoned me on a roadside to rush to Isabella's side, I was hit by a car. I woke up in the ER, bleeding, only to hear a nurse shout that I was two months pregnant. A tiny, impossible hope flared in my chest.
But as the doctors scrambled to save me, they patched my husband through on speakerphone. His voice was cold and absolute.
"Isabella's condition is critical," he ordered. "Not one drop of the reserve blood is to be touched until she is safe. I don't care who else needs it."
I lost the baby. Our child, sacrificed by its own father. I later learned Isabella had only suffered a minor cut. The blood was just a "precautionary measure."
The tiny flicker of hope was extinguished, and something inside me snapped, clean and final. The debt was paid.
Alone in the silence, I made the last entry in my ledger, bringing the score to zero. I signed the divorce papers I had already prepared, left them on his desk, and walked out of his life forever.
Chapter 1
Elara POV:
When the debt is paid, I am free.
I traced the opening entry in the small, black leather ledger. One hundred points. That was the value I had placed on my marriage to Dante Moretti. For every betrayal, every humiliation, every moment he chose her over me, I deducted points.
The heavy oak door of his study creaked open. Dante stood there, a titan in a bespoke suit, his presence a gravitational force, pulling all the air toward him. He was the undisputed Don of the Chicago Outfit, a man who commanded legions with a flick of his wrist, a man whose dark intensity had captivated me since I was a girl. A man who was my husband.
His eyes, the color of storm clouds, landed on the book in my hands.
"What is that?" His voice was low, devoid of warmth, the same tone he used with his soldiers before sending them to their deaths.
I held it out. He took it, his long, scarred fingers brushing against mine. A shiver I couldn't control ran up my arm. He flipped through the pages, his expression unreadable as his gaze fell upon the entries.
He missed our first anniversary-a public affair-to fly to Isabella's side. A humiliation before the entire Family.
He abandoned me on a deserted highway with a single Soldier because Isabella faked a threat from a rival crew.
He lost the Moretti heirloom wedding ring, distracted by her call. A terrible omen for our house.
He read a few, his lip curling in a faint sneer. He handed it back to me, the leather cool against my skin.
"Keep your personal effects out of my study, Elara. This is where I conduct business for the Family."
My gaze swept over the room. It was a museum dedicated to another woman. A priceless Ming vase he'd bought for Isabella because she'd once admired it in a magazine. A framed photo of her on the deck of his yacht, laughing. A small, silver locket on his desk that I knew held her picture. I was just another one of his possessions, and an unwanted one at that.
The secure line on his desk rang, a harsh, demanding sound. He answered, his back to me.
"What is it?"
A voice crackled on the other end, one of his Capos. "Boss, the warehouse on Cermak. It's on fire. A gift from the O'Malley crew. Isabella... she was supposed to be there tonight for inventory."
Dante's body went rigid. When he turned, his features had sharpened into a mask of cold, terrifying fury. He grabbed his keys from the desk, his movements sharp and violent. He didn't even glance at me as he stormed out.
Some desperate, stupid flicker of hope made me follow. I took a taxi, watching his armored sedan blow through a dozen red lights, a dark missile tearing through the city.
The warehouse was an inferno, orange flames punching holes in the night sky. Firefighters and his own men were shouting, forming a human wall to hold him back.
"It's too dangerous, Boss! You can't go in there!"
Dante shoved them aside. He turned to his Underboss, his voice a low roar that carried over the chaos. "If Isabella doesn't walk out of there, I will burn this city to the ground."
Then he was gone, swallowed by the flames.
His Capos surrounded me, their expressions a mixture of pity and contempt.
"He's always been like this about her," one of them said, not unkindly. "Built half his empire just to win her back."
Another one snickered. "She's his queen. Always has been."
They were twisting the knife, reminding me of my place. The placeholder wife. The consolation prize.
I remembered the day he'd asked my father, his father's most trusted Consigliere, for my hand. My father was on his deathbed. Dante had just learned that Isabella, his first and only love, had married a civilian, a man outside their world. A Don needed a wife. My father secured a promise from Dante: marry my daughter, protect her. An honorable pact. I had been naive enough to believe it was love.
Now I knew the truth. He married me because his queen had abdicated her throne.
An eternity later, a figure emerged from the inferno. Dante. He was carrying an unconscious Isabella in his arms, his suit smoldering, his face blackened with soot. He laid her gently on a gurney before collapsing himself.
At the hospital, a Moretti-controlled fortress, the doctor gave his report.
"The Don has severe burns on his back and arms, but he'll live. Ms. Vance is perfectly fine, just a little smoke inhalation."
His men tried to comfort me, reminding me of the Moretti name, the power, the wealth. As if money could stitch a heart back together.
I excused myself, the polite, perfect Don's wife to the very end.
Back in the cold silence of the Moretti estate, I walked into the study that felt more like her room than his. I opened the ledger.
My hand was steady as I wrote the new entry beneath the last.
Minus five points.
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Chapter 1
29/10/2025
Chapter 2
29/10/2025
Chapter 3
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Chapter 4
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Chapter 5
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Chapter 6
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Chapter 7
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Chapter 8
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Chapter 9
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Chapter 10
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Chapter 11
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Chapter 12
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Chapter 13
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Chapter 14
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Chapter 15
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Chapter 16
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Chapter 17
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Chapter 18
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Chapter 19
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Chapter 20
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Chapter 21
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Chapter 22
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Chapter 23
29/10/2025
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