Chapter 1Dad sold me to Don Antonio right after graduation to pay off his debts.
Everyone felt sorry for me—stuck in that villa like some kind of pet bird.
But honestly? He treated me well. Even kept my dying mom alive with expensive treatments.
Until he hired a female advisor.
Supposedly to manage household expenses and "look after" me.
But every time I requested anything, she'd block it with some excuse.
Even when my mother was dying and I begged to visit her, she said—
"You didn't submit your request three days in advance. Denied."
Just like that, my mother died calling out my name.
What made it worse was when I confronted Antonio about it.
"You've never had a real job. Why would I take your word over MY advisor's?"
My heart instantly went cold.
All those warm memories shattered against reality in an instant.
That night, I walked into Antonio's office with divorce papers in hand...
...
I slapped the divorce papers down on Antonio Rivera's desk.
"Sign it. I already did my part."
He didn't even bother looking up.
"Take your drama somewhere else, Isabella."
"This isn't drama," I said, keeping my voice steady. "I want out."
That got his attention.
His eyes flicked up, irritation written all over his face.
"Cut it out. You know I hate when you pull this crap."
His men shuffled out of the office, throwing me these pathetic looks on their way out like I was some kind of charity case.
I balled my hands into fists.
"I mean it this time."
He got up, and suddenly he was right there, way too close.
That damn cologne mixed with cigar smoke hit me, making it hard to breathe.
"Baby," he murmured, pulling me against him.
"Your mom's pills? A grand each. Six a day. You walk away from me, she's done."
My jaw clenched.
I used to think his whole controlling thing was attractive.
Now it just made me want to puke.
"Keep your pills!"
I shoved him back, hard.
"My mom's already gone! Just sign the damn thing!"
His expression went dark.
"Nice try. Elena sent me a video this morning—your mother's out taking walks."
I opened my mouth to argue, but then Elena Gallo strutted in.
"Boss, we need to roll."
"OK."
Then turned back t me:
"Quit being hysterical. We'll discuss this later."
Yeah, right.
"Later" never came.
To him, this was just another one of my "episodes."
Four hours from now, the old me would've been groveling with an apology.
The old me was terrified he'd cut off Mom's medication if I rocked the boat.
I'd agree to anything, swallow every insult, pretend I didn't hear when people called me pathetic.
But things were different now.
When I tried to tell him, Elena had cut in.
"Mrs. Rivera, shopping again?"
"Things are dangerous right now, and you can't even handle a gun properly."
"Don't make more problems for Don Antonio."
"Wait, no—it's about Mom—"
"Your mom's fine," she cooed.
"I just saw her. Eating like a champ."
"Don't lie about her health just so you can sneak out shopping."
The photos the caregiver sent me told a different story.
I tried to explain, but Antonio cut me off.
"Jesus, Isabella. I'm working. Stop lying to get what you want."
"Last time it was a toothache, now you're using your mother?"
"Just listen to Elena. She takes care of you."
That was his answer to everything.
Even though I was supposedly his wife, his Donna, I had to get Elena's approval to buy tampons.
Hell, to leave the house at all.
And she always had some bullshit excuse ready.
"Wisdom tooth? Pop some ibuprofen."
"You saved a poisoned cat? Not my problem."
"Tampons? Borrow from the staff."
That wisdom tooth grew in sideways because I never saw a dentist.
The kitten died in my arms.
The staff looked at me like I was some kind of prisoner.
Antonio would send expensive designer clothes and jewelry to the villa every season, like clockwork.
But everything stayed locked up. I couldn't touch any of it.
It was pathetic.
While Mom was dying, I was writing formal requests just to leave the house for an hour.
Elena glanced at my letter for two seconds and denied it.
"Requests to leave require three business days' notice. Try again in three days."
I was crying by then.
"Please. Two hours. My mom doesn't have three days."
She smiled.
"If it's her time, whether you're there or not won't change anything.
I have a responsibility to look after you. Can't let you out without proper authorization."
Calls to Antonio? Ignored.
Three days became five. Five became seven.
Then the caregiver sent me a photo.
Mom's body.
Even if I could've told myself before that Antonio did all this because he "loved" me or wanted to "protect" me, now that Mom was gone, what the hell was I staying for?
I wiped my face and started packing.
Then my phone buzzed.
Antonio had shared Elena's social media post.
In the picture, she stood next to him, raising a champagne glass.
The caption read: "Another day with Don Antonio."
Before I could process it, a message from him popped up.
"Don't read into it. I'm telling you again—we're colleagues."
"My family's cleaning up its image. I don't need people thinking my Consigliere and my wife are fighting."
See?
Whenever Elena was involved, he jumped in immediately.
I wasn't going to reply. But I was so damn angry.
What did I have left to lose?
I laughed to myself and typed out a comment under her post.
"Every family should hire Elena as Consigliere."
"She's brilliant at controlling the boss's wife and wielding her approval power like a weapon."
"When you finally take my spot officially, try being as 'fair' to yourself as you were to me."
Hit send.
Felt a little lighter.
I shoved the last simple dress into my suitcase.
The expensive gowns that didn't fit, the house full of cameras, Antonio's suffocating control?
None of it would trap me anymore.
My phone rang.
Antonio.
I declined the call, just like he'd declined all of mine when Mom was dying.
Chapter 2
Less than ten minutes later, I heard him storming up the stairs.
Unbelievable.
When I had a 103-degree fever last year, he just had Elena drop off some Tylenol.
Guess Elena was the magic word to get him moving.
He didn't even take off his suit jacket before barging into the bedroom, eyes blazing.
"You hung up on me?"
I kept folding clothes. "Didn't feel like talking."
He grabbed my wrist, yanking me around to face him.
"Because I told you to shut up?"
"Elena just closed a major deal, and as Don, I'm celebrating with my inner circle."
"What the hell is wrong with that?"
His voice got louder, sharper.
"Do you have any idea how many people saw your comment?"
"Some are already saying she's my mistress!"
"Elena values her reputation, and because you humiliated her publicly, she cried herself sick!"
"Okay," I said, tilting my head.
"And why is that my problem? Am I her therapist?"
He scoffed.
I kept going.
"Obviously, people think your 'Consigliere' has crossed some lines. That's why they're talking."
"Enough!"
He raised his voice so loud the bodyguards in the hall backed away.
"Elena is this family's Consigliere."
"She handles more money in a day than you've seen in your entire life."
"You sit here in luxury under MY protection, and you have the nerve to trash MY most trusted associate?"
His eyes burned with disappointment and accusation.
"I've spoiled you rotten, and now you're so jealous you're attacking Elena."
"If this happens again, I'm cutting off your mother's medication."
I looked up at him and laughed. Sharp and bitter.
"Luxury? You think this is luxury?"
He frowned at me like I'd lost my mind.
I grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the walk-in closet.
Racks and racks of designer clothes. All behind locked glass.
"Look!"
I pointed at the locks, my voice shaking with rage.
"I can't wear ANY of this. Not even a pair of socks without permission."
"Tell me, Don Antonio, what kind of 'lady of the house' has to ask permission to put on her own underwear?"
He frowned.
"That's because you always pick things that aren't appropriate."
"Inappropriate?"
I laughed bitterly.
"Every 'inappropriate' dress I pick ends up on Elena the next day!"
"Even the most desperate mistress in the world wouldn't want my pathetic life!"
I thought I'd finally made it clear.
But Antonio just looked confused and annoyed.
"So you trashed her online over some dresses? Can't you be more mature about this?"
The helplessness crushed down on me.
I turned away, my voice flat.
"Believe what you want. I'm still divorcing you."
That set him off. He grabbed me, pulling me against him.
"Watch yourself, Mrs. Rivera. Remember who got your mother the best doctors money could buy."
I bit down hard on my lip to keep from crying.
How twisted was that?
He'd arranged top-tier care for my mother, but he didn't even know she was dead.
"Let go," I said, my voice shaking. "I'm leaving."
Antonio laughed. Actually laughed.
"Divorce? And then what?"
"Let your deadbeat gambling addict of a father sell you off to the next mob boss?"
Every word was a knife.
Three years ago, that's exactly what happened.
Dad gambled away everything, abandoned my dying mother, and I got shoved into this marriage to settle his debts.
More accurately, I got sold and delivered straight to Antonio's bed.
He knew that was my deepest wound, and he was twisting the knife.
"At least it won't be you," I said, still struggling. "I already signed the papers."
He leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear.
"You think you get to decide when this marriage ends?"
"Remember, sweetheart—there's ONLY ONE WAY a Don's wife leaves her marriage."
Death.
I knew exactly what he meant.
"I'll unlock the closet. And I'll transfer fifty grand a month to your personal account. No approval needed."
"Will that work?"
Same old pattern.
Hurt me first, then dangle promises to keep me obedient.
Before, I would've taken the deal gratefully.
But now? My head was clear.
Money and clothes weren't the real problem.
He still refused to punish the one person who actually deserved it.
Elena.
"Keep your money."
His eyes narrowed. "You'd rather watch your mother die without her medication?"
That threat again.
My chest ached, but I kept my face blank.
"She'd understand."
He clearly wasn't expecting that.
For just a second, I saw panic flicker across his face.
Like he couldn't figure out why his usual tactics weren't working.
But his pride wouldn't let him beg twice.
He watched me walk toward the door without looking back.
Antonio raised his hand.
Changed his signal from "stop her" to "let her go."
I remembered overhearing Elena once at headquarters, saying to him:
"Boss, Mrs. Rivera's been binge-watching romance dramas."
"Think she'll start acting like one of those dramatic heroines and threaten divorce?"
Then she'd added.
"If she ever does that, just ignore her."
"Once she sees how harsh the real world is, she'll come crawling back, apologizing through tears."
He probably thought the same thing now.
It wasn't until I was completely out of sight that Antonio seemed to snap out of it.
He reached irritably for a cigarette, but his fingers found a small paper packet instead.
Inside were a few pieces of hard mint candy.
His throat was always raw from chain-smoking.
I'd spent months trying different recipes to make him candy that would soothe it, just to ease his discomfort a little.
He unwrapped one and popped it in his mouth.
The cool sweetness made him relax. His frown smoothed out.
"I'll let her blow off steam for a few days," he thought.
After all, I'd worked so hard making him candy.
Surely that meant I loved him.
Chapter 3
I dragged my beat-up suitcase to Professor Margarita Accardi's house.
She was Mom's close friend.
When I dropped out of my archaeology master's program to marry Antonio, she was the only one who fought me on it.
She didn't come to the wedding.
But she sent me a text that day:
"You're losing more than you're gaining.
When you're tired of being a caged bird, remember—there's a harder path, but it's free."
Turned out she was right.
Early in the marriage, Antonio's control wasn't so obvious.
He'd take me to events with him.
But then some guy stared at me too long.
Antonio's expression went dark, and that was the last event I ever attended.
Things got worse when Elena suggested she could "look after" me.
That's when I lost my freedom entirely.
The door opened.
When Margarita saw me standing there in cheap clothes, her expression softened.
"Come in, sweetheart," she said, stepping aside.
"Just brewed some coffee."
Tears flooded my eyes instantly.
Margarita waited until I'd calmed down before speaking.
"We just uncovered a new tomb site in Stonemoor. I need an assistant for my team."
I looked up, eyes wide.
"You're offering me a job?"
"Only if you haven't forgotten everything you learned. I can't bring some spoiled socialite to a dig site."
"I can do it!" The words burst out of me. "I promise!"
Margarita finally smiled.
"Good. Pack up. We leave tomorrow."
The sun at Stonemoor felt like it was trying to cook me alive.
I knelt in the excavation pit, carefully brushing dirt off ancient tiles.
Sweat ran down my forehead, mixing with dust and caking onto my skin.
Then I heard a sharp, familiar voice behind me.
"Oh my God! Isabella? Is that actually you?"
I froze.
Turned around.
Elena stood there in an expensive Chanel suit, holding a scarf over her nose.
Stared at me like I was something she'd scraped off her shoe.
"Wow. Didn't think you had the guts to run."
"Guess you've really hit rock bottom, huh?"
"Digging up bones with a bunch of losers."
My teammates' faces hardened.
I stood up, stepping in front of them.
"Elena, are you a dog? Why are you always sniffing around wherever I go?"
Her face flushed red with anger.
She was about to fire back when a tall figure stepped out from behind her.
Antonio.
He was in a casual linen suit, like he was on some kind of vacation.
When he saw my dirt-streaked face, surprise flickered across his expression.
"What's going on?"
He asked Elena, but his eyes stayed locked on me.
Elena immediately put on a wounded look, her eyes welling up.
"Don Antonio, I had no idea Bella found out we were here and followed us."
"I just wanted to talk to her, but she started cursing at me..."
Antonio frowned at my filthy appearance.
"This is what you've been reduced to?"
"If you tracked us down here to beg for me back, you'd better start by apologizing to Elena."
"Apologize?"
I pointed at Elena and laughed bitterly.
"I will NEVER apologize to the witch who tortured me and dreams of stealing my husband."
Antonio's face darkened with rage.
"Have you lost your mind?"
"You followed us all the way here, and now you're playing games?"
"You've been gone for days. Don't you care if your mother lives or dies?"
The hot wind blew across my face, but I felt cold inside.
I heard myself speak, my voice strangely calm.
"Stop. She died last week."
He shot back immediately, "Last week's medical report said she was FINE."
"How long are you gonna keep lying to me with that excuse?"
When I didn't answer, he clenched his jaw and hissed.
"Guess you haven't learned your lesson in a while."
Without missing a beat, he pulled out his phone and barked into it.
"Luca, cut off all treatment for Isabella's mother. Now."
He moved so fast he didn't notice Elena's face go white.
"Don Antonio, wait—"
"She needs to learn!" he snapped.
On the other end, Luca Santoro sounded confused.
"Boss... Mrs. Rivera's mother... died last week."
Antonio went completely still.
"... What did you just say?"
