Chapter 2

I wake up to silence.

Not peaceful silence—

but the kind that settles in a house right before a vendetta begins.

Dante isn't home.

I hate the empty space beside me.

I don't know whether to be relieved or offended.

I slip out of bed and walk to the kitchen… and that's when I see it.

His phone.

Face down on the counter.

Unlocked.

Still warm from his hand.

My breath halts.

A made man never leaves his phone behind.

It's how we track family business, territory disputes, protection racket payments.

Leaving it is like leaving your gun.

I stare at it for five full seconds, battling myself.

Then the screen lights up.

A banner flashes:

"The Commission – 87 new messages"

The Commission… what?

My pulse spikes.

The phone buzzes again.

Carmine: Bro last night was insane ?

Luca: Your girl was a whole mood ?

Valentina: Call me when she calms down. We still good for today?

A cold wave runs down my spine.

My blood chills.

I pick up the phone.

I shouldn't.

Every rule in omertà says not to—you don't snitch, you don't betray, you don't look.

But betrayal burns hotter than loyalty.

The chat opens instantly—

And my stomach flips.

They're talking about me.

They've always talked about me.

Carmine: Gabriella looked like she was about to snap. Told you she can't handle our family business.

Luca: Dante needs someone with fire, not… whatever she is.

Valentina: She's weak. It's not her fault she doesn't… fit our world.

My fingers go numb.

These are the people Dante swore were "family to him."

The people he took an oath with.

Then I keep scrolling.

And it gets worse.

Dante: Don't start. She's stressed. I'll handle it.

Valentina: Handle? Like last time? When you left your wedding reception to meet me at the social club?

Luca: Boss move ?

Boss move.

Leaving your wife alone on your wedding night—after swearing sacred vows—to meet your goumada at the club is a "boss move."

My vision tunnels.

I scroll again, guilt slicing me open.

Valentina: Did you tell her about this weekend?

Dante: No. She'd ruin it.

Valentina: Good. Then it'll just be us. Like always.

Carmine: Birthday girl about to get her man ?

Then the photo loads.

A selfie.

Taken last night.

In the hotel elevator.

Valentina pressed to Dante's side.

Her lips near his oath scar.

His hand on her waist—

his thumb brushing the exact spot where his wedding ring should remind him of his vows.

My breath stutters.

I keep scrolling like I'm digging my own grave.

A new message from this morning:

Valentina (6:12 AM): Don't forget we leave by 10. This trip needs to be perfect.

Dante: She won't interfere. I'll keep her busy.

Keep.

Me.

Busy.

Like I'm a problem to manage.

Not the wife he swore to honor before God and the Don.

The front door clicks.

My head snaps up.

Dante walks in, smelling like hotel soap—

not our soap.

Not my scent.

And faintly… faintly like her perfume.

His demeanor is calm, relaxed, completely unaware of the carnage he left behind.

He freezes when he sees the phone in my hand.

"Gabriella," he breathes. "Listen—"

"When were you going to tell me?" I hold up the phone. "About this weekend? About her?"

"It's not what you think."

"You told her you'd keep me busy."

I step toward him slowly.

"Busy from what, Dante?"

He rubs his face. "It's just a birthday trip—"

"With the woman you left our wedding reception for? The woman you met at the social club while I waited alone?"

His jaw tightens. "It wasn't like that."

"It was exactly like that."

Silence drops heavy.

He exhales sharply. "I didn't tell you because you always make things bigger than they are."

"My husband breaking his marriage vow is big."

"No," he snaps. "You just make everything dramatic."

My throat closes.

He still doesn't get it.

Doesn't understand what it means to break an oath.

He never will.

The phone buzzes again.

Valentina: Dante, I'm outside. Hurry. We're late.

My eyes widen.

"You invited her to our home?" I whisper.

He stiffens. "She's giving me a ride."

"To your private getaway with her?"

He doesn't confirm it.

He doesn't deny it.

That tells me everything.

Everything I was too blind to see.

I grab my bag. "Move."

"Gabriella, don't walk out again."

I laugh softly, bitterly. "Walk out? Dante, I'm not walking out. I'm walking away from a man who broke his sacred vows."

I shoulder past him.

At the door, he calls out:

"Where are you even going?"

I turn.

"To watch my marriage burn from the front row."

I open the door—

And Valentina Russo stands there.

Designer sunglasses.

A smirk.

Her presence dripping with disrespect for family honor.

"Morning," she says sweetly. "Ready, Dante?"

He glances at her.

Then at me.

And the second he looks at her longer—

A marriage vow inside me snaps.

Cleanly.

Quietly.

Dead.

I step outside.

He calls my name once.

I don't turn back.

Because in six hours, he'll be laughing with her at a lakeside resort, thinking he got away with breaking his oath.

And in six and a half hours—

I'll be there too.

To watch him fall.

Because in our world, you don't break vows.

And if you do—

There's always a reckoning.