The Don Used Me

I am a mafia don’s wife—and the architect behind his entire port empire.

The moment he rolled off my body, he called another woman and promised her marriage.

To secure her family’s weapons line, he’s divorcing me—trading our marriage for power.

“Feelings are useless,” he said calmly. “You were always temporary.”

What he doesn’t know is this: the port doesn’t run on his guns—it runs on me, and I’ve just decided to stop saving him.

……

The moment he pulled out of me, Vito Russo picked up his encrypted video phone right in front of me.

On the screen was Isabella Kovac—heir to an Eastern European arms syndicate.

"Just give me a little more time," his voice was low and steady. "Once the divorce papers are signed, you'll be Mrs. Russo."

I was still on my knees on the bed, fingers clutching the sheets.

He didn't even glance at me.

"Are you serious?" The woman on screen laughed sweetly.

"Of course I'm serious, Isabella." He leaned against the headboard, his tone sickeningly tender. "The alliance is set. Once I handle things on this end, we'll announce the engagement publicly."

"I'll clean up her situation. We'll go public with the engagement by the end of the month. The port and weapons lines will merge simultaneously."

The port.

My port.

I heard myself speak, voice tight: "Vito, what are you doing?"

Only then did he turn to look at me.

His eyes were cold as a knife's edge.

He didn't explain, just used his finger to cover part of the camera.

"I'm conducting business."

"Business?" I laughed once. "In our marital bed?"

The screen paused for a second.

"She's there?" Isabella asked.

Vito answered directly: "Irrelevant."

Irrelevant.

I was the legitimate wife of the Russo family, the architect of Chicago's underground port money laundering system, his most trusted intelligence hub.

In his mouth, I'd become irrelevant.

I stared at him. "Irrelevant? I'm your wife."

He ended the call, tossed the phone aside, and slowly sat up straight.

Behind him through the floor-to-ceiling window were the Russo estate's guard posts and black motorcade.

Half the city's cargo went through his docks.

He was the godfather.

And the man I'd loved for three years.

Minutes ago, his fingers had been gripping my waist, saying leaving me would drive him insane.

Now, he looked at me like I was a ledger entry.

"Ailin, calm down."

He said it so lightly, as if I were being hysterical.

"You want a divorce?" I asked.

"Just a formality." His tone was even. "You know this marriage was always a transaction."

Those words were like a bucket of ice water poured from head to toe.

Minutes ago he'd been whispering in my ear that I belonged to him.

Now he was calling it a transaction.

"A transaction?" My voice was hoarse.

"Three years ago when the West Side spun out of control, the Torino family wanted to swallow our port." He stood up, methodically buttoning his shirt. "I needed someone who could control the books. You laundered dirty money into legitimate assets for me, kept the feds from finding evidence."

He looked at me.

"You did very well."

I remembered that night outside the warehouse—gunfire constant, him kneeling in broken glass, slipping the ring onto my finger, saying I was the only person who could stand beside him.

I thought it was love.

Turns out it was strategy.

"So the proposal was planned too?" I stared at him.

He didn't answer.

Silence was crueler than admission.

I got out of bed and put on a robe. "What about her? What can she give you?"

"The Eastern European weapons line." He said it plainly. "Her father controls weapon channels that can connect directly to our port."

The port.

My port.

"What am I?" I asked.

He looked at me, gaze sharp.

"You're a smart woman. Smart women don't ask questions like that."

My breathing grew rapid.

"You'd already decided to replace me?"

"Don't use that word." He frowned slightly. "You'll receive compensation. Part of the West Side dock jurisdiction, I can allocate to you. Or cash and an exit arrangement."

Exit arrangement.

Like handling a traitor.

"Compensation?" I laughed aloud. "I cleaned your books, blocked federal investigations, suppressed three internal family conflicts. When you couldn't sleep at night, I sorted intelligence for you. Now you're giving me a piece of dock and telling me to get lost?"

He finished his cufflinks, his tone cooling several degrees.

"Emotion won't help you."

"Who will it help? Her?"

He didn't deny it.

I looked at this man who controlled the city, suddenly feeling like he was a stranger.

"Do you love her?"

He paused for a second.

"Love is meaningless to the family. She has value."

"What about me?"

He stepped closer, voice low.

"You had value once."

In that instant, I was completely clearheaded.

For three years, I'd thought I stood beside the godfather.

In reality, I was just a piece on his chessboard.

"When's the divorce?" I asked.

"Next week." He said. "The engagement party is at the end of the month. You need to attend."

I snapped my head up.

"You want me there?"

"As the former wife." His tone was calm. "Public blessing. Let all the families know you support this alliance."

Making me stand before the mafia elite and applaud for his new bride.

"What if I refuse?" I asked.

His gaze darkened, sharp enough to chill.

"The port system keys are in my hands. Your identity is in my hands. Ailin, don't make a stupid decision."

This was a warning.

Also a threat.

He turned and walked toward the door.

"Don't make this ugly."

The door closed.

The room went quiet.

Distant guard footsteps echoed faintly.

I stood there, palms ice cold.

Three years ago he said I was his only trust.

Tonight, he made me understand I was just part of his expanding empire.

Since he wanted to trade me out for an alliance—

I'd show him how long his port could run without me.