The Donna's Lethal Goodbye

On our fifth anniversary, my Mafia Don husband kissed my cheek, then switched to Corsican to tell our adopted daughter how much he enjoyed getting her pregnant.

He didn't know I spoke seven languages. Corsican included.

He didn't know that in three days, I would vanish — no body, no trail, no goodbye.

When I disappeared, he lost his mind.

Now it was my turn to teach him what losing someone really meant.

......

Our fifth anniversary. Cassius leaned down and kissed my temple — slow, proprietary.

Then Selena sat down beside him.

Our adopted daughter. Tonight she wore a black dress cut so low it barely qualified as clothing. She pressed against his arm without a shred of hesitation.

"Father," she cooed, then switched to Corsican.

"The doctor confirmed it today. It's a boy. Nine weeks."

Cassius's hand never stopped stroking the small of my back, but a low, pleased rumble rolled through his chest.

He answered in the same language.

"Good girl. Hit the mark that night. Guess that slutty little act of yours really does suit my taste."

"Do you want me again tonight?" Selena's voice trembled. "The marks you left on me last time — they still haven't faded."

"Then I'll add a few new ones." His fingers pinched her waist under the table. "Be at the usual spot wearing that black set from last time, and make sure your legs are open, waiting for me."

Selena melted against him, her finger hooking the cuff of his suit jacket. "What about Evelyn? If she finds out..."

Cassius's brow dipped. "Keep your mouth shut. Evelyn cannot find out about this. Ever. It wouldn't be good — for either of us."

The warmth drained from my fingertips in an instant. I could barely hold onto my glass.

What they didn't know was that I had been raised as my family's heir, trained in seven languages from childhood — Corsican among them.

The champagne flute slipped from my fingers and shattered on the floor.

Instinctively, my free hand pressed against my flat stomach. I had planned to tell Cassius the news tonight, after the party.

Cassius seized my hand immediately, his eyes flooded with alarm.

"Evelyn — did it cut you? Where does it hurt?"

I stared at that devoted face.

Ten seconds ago, that same mouth had been using another language to discuss bedroom positions with his adopted daughter.

Ten seconds later, he had snapped back into the role the whole world envied — the husband who'd been hopelessly, faithfully in love for five years straight.

My stomach clenched. Nausea surged up my throat.

"I'm fine," I said, pulling my hand away. "What were you two talking about just now?"

Cassius drew the handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped my fingers one by one.

"Just some business headaches. A shipment got seized at the southern port. Didn't want to dirty your ears with it, so we used a language you wouldn't understand."

He tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his thumb brushing my earlobe.

That gesture used to make my heart race. Now it only sent a wave of goosebumps crawling down my spine.

I tilted away from his hand and rose from my chair.

"I need to use the restroom."

I didn't wait for his response. I was already past the head table. Around the corner of the hallway, a cluster of wives huddled together, whispering.

"Did you see that? The Donna barely got a drop of water on her fingers and the Don nearly lost it."

"Five years, and he hasn't so much as glanced at another woman. You couldn't find a man like that with a search warrant."

"She really is the luckiest woman in the Moretti family."

There was a time when hearing those words would have made me blush, made me proud, made me feel like I'd married the right man.

Now all I felt was the bitter sting of irony.

None of them knew that this man — the one who supposedly held his wife like a jewel in his palm — had been sleeping with his adopted daughter for God knows how long. Long enough to put a child in her.

The truth was, I should have woken up a week ago.

That day I'd used his computer to look up a document, and a message from Selena had popped up on the screen.

A photo — her in a lace negligee that left almost nothing to the imagination. Followed by a string of coy, suggestive texts.

Cassius had been sitting right next to me when he typed his reply, his thumbs flying across his phone — "Way more fun than Evelyn's uptight act. Wait till I get back. I'll deal with you."

In that moment, my marriage to Cassius Moretti received its death sentence.

I didn't make a scene. I didn't confront him. I turned around and reached out to the contacts my parents had left me before they died — and began paving a road to complete erasure.

I had barely pushed open the door to the second-floor suite when the phone buzzed in my hand.

"Evelyn, everything is ready. I'll send someone for you in three days." The voice on the other end belonged to my father's most trusted old associate. "You will vanish completely — every record wiped clean."

"In the meantime, see whoever you need to see. Settle whatever needs settling. Say your goodbyes."

Goodbyes? I looked out the window at the estate blazing with light and felt the bitterness rise in my throat.

Five years ago, my parents had died in an ambush — saving Cassius. He had held me in their blood, kneeling on the ground, and swore he would take care of me for the rest of my life.

Now the man who had promised to protect me in their place had forgotten his own oath.

"That won't be necessary. There's no one left in this world I need to say goodbye to."

A pause on the other end. Then: "Evelyn, think this through. If Cassius can't find you, he'll lose his mind."

I laughed into the empty room. My eyes stung.

"No, he won't," I said. "He's too busy playing daddy-to-be."

Silence stretched on the other end.

Finally, a low sigh. "...I'll take care of everything. Be ready to leave."

I opened my mouth, about to say —

A shadow fell over me.

"Who's leaving?"