Twenty-Two Times Too Late

Giulia's POV

I was Alessandro Romano's wife in name only—the mafia godfather of Belluno City.

We had the most extravagant wedding this city had ever seen: three thousand guests, flowers lining every street. Everything except a legal marriage certificate.

Over three years, he promised to sign the papers twenty-two times. He canceled every single one.

He would buy two identical necklaces, hanging one around my neck and the other around his mistress's, trading a night spent comforting her for a dismissive apology to me.

After the twenty-one broken promise, I stopped waiting.

I packed my bags and left for the one city he vowed never to enter.

What I didn't know: after I left, the man who ruled the underworld completely lost control.

"Giulia, there’s a situation at the South District dungeon," Alessandro's voice was cold over the phone. "We just caught a few traitors who leaked intel to the Russo family. I have to deal with this personally. As for the marriage registration—"

"Okay."

I didn't let him finish.

I sounded so calm that I even surprised myself.

This eerie compliance made him pause over the phone. Then, his tone softened, carrying a hint of patronizing tenderness: "Good girl. Congratulations on your promotion to Director today. Once I’m done here, we’ll celebrate tonight."

The line went dead.

I leaned back against the leather seat, watching the streets of Belluno City roll by. "Paolo, head to the South District dungeon."

"But Mrs. Romano, weren't we going to the city hall..." Paolo’s voice trailed off. He silently turned the steering wheel, driving mechanically toward the other side of town.

This was the twenty-first time. Alessandro and I had been in love for seven years. We had the wedding of the century and lived together as husband and wife for three years, yet we didn't have a single legally binding piece of paper to prove it.

Twenty-one appointments, twenty-one "sudden emergencies." It had become Paolo’s daily routine.

The car pulled up near an abandoned factory in the South District. Through the tinted windows, I saw Alessandro. He stood outside the dungeon in a pitch-black suit, a half-lit cigar pinched between his fingers, his brows slightly furrowed. He hadn't taken a single step inside—as if waiting for something far more important than interrogating traitors.

Five minutes later, a black Bentley screeched to a halt in front of him. The door flew open, and a woman stumbled out, practically throwing herself into the arms of the most terrifying man in the underworld.

It was Martina.

Even from this distance, I could see her shoulders shaking violently. Alessandro didn't push her away; he naturally wrapped an arm around her waist.

Just this morning, the official appointment for the Director of Stellare Group was announced. The shortlist had two names: mine and Martina's. I won.

My mind suddenly replayed Alessandro’s whispers from a few late nights ago: "Giulia, you are already my wife. Let Martina have the Director position. People will gossip that you slept your way to the top. I don't want them talking behind your back." Every time he said it, he sounded so painfully considerate.

Outside the window, he murmured something to Martina, then carefully shielded her as they walked through those heavy iron doors together.

What a brilliant choice. This was his private territory. No one would dare ask if the screams coming from inside were from tortured traitors or something else entirely. Comforting a woman devastated by her career loss in his mafia dungeon was a flawless alibi.

I looked down at my hands, which were pressing down on a crumpled marriage application form on my lap.

"Back to the office."

Seven years of history. It was time to end it.

I slid my resignation letter across the desk to the HR Manager, Mr. Ricci. He stared at the envelope, a flash of shock breaking his usually stoic expression. "The promotion announcement was sent out less than four hours ago. Does Mr. Romano know about this?"

"I'll tell him later."

Mr. Ricci stared at me intensely, let out a heavy sigh. "Over the past seven years, you turned this sinking ship of a company into an empire that controls sixty percent of the city's market. Without you, Stellare Group might..." He stopped, his gaze drifting past me toward a specific cubicle in the glass-walled open office—Martina's desk.

At 9 PM, I sat alone in my unlit bedroom. Alessandro hadn't come home.

My phone lit up with a notification from an account I kept on special alert. It was a new post from Martina, uploaded half an hour ago.

The background was the city's most exclusive grand theater. In the center of the frame was the silhouette of a man sitting in a VIP box—following the hem of his suit, I saw his right hand casually shoved into his coat pocket.

That was where Alessandro always kept his gun.

I didn't cry. I actually felt abnormally calm.

I opened my laptop and clicked on an email that had been sitting in my inbox for three months—an offer from the Russo Group in Corvo City. Their HR Director had been trying to poach me with triple my current salary. I had never replied.

Corvo City.

That name was an absolute taboo in front of Alessandro. No one dared to mention what he went through there nine years ago. I never asked, either. I only knew he never went back and forbade me from getting close.

I knew him too well—he had a possessiveness carved into his very bones. No matter where I went, as long as he wanted to, he could always drag me back.

The only exception was Corvo City. If I went there, perhaps we would never see each other again for the rest of our lives.