Chapter 2

Katarina POV:

The day after the party, a cold, clear purpose settled in my soul. I was no longer a wife fighting for a dead marriage; I was a queen planning a silent coup. Donato, for all his fading strength, was a man who valued loyalty and order above all else. Before this nightmare with Aria began, he had seen the cracks in his son. He had set up a contingency, a "purification" plan for me, should the worst happen. An escape route. Now, I activated it. A single, encrypted message was all it took. A new identity and a network of overseas accounts began to form in the shadows, waiting for me. The feeling was not sadness, but a chilling, thrilling sense of release.

My first act of severance was the necklace. The De Luca Diamonds. A heavy, ornate piece passed down through generations, worn by the wives of the family's leaders. It had felt like a collar for years. I placed it in a velvet box, drove to an old Catholic church downtown, and left it in the anonymous donation bin. Let God have it. It was a promise broken, a symbol of a life I was now erasing.

Back at the penthouse, I built a small fire in the marble fireplace. One by one, I fed it our memories. Photographs from our wedding, letters he wrote me in the early days, a dried rose from our first anniversary. I watched the edges curl and blacken, the faces turning to ash. I was purging the poison, cauterizing the wound.

Alex came home late that night to find the silver frame on our bedside table empty.

"Where's our wedding photo?" he asked, his brow furrowed in mild confusion.

"I sent it to be reframed," I lied, my voice smooth as silk. "The glass was cracked."

He accepted it without a second thought, his mind already elsewhere. He was too consumed with his own lies to notice mine. He was thinking only of how to use me, his perfect wife, to maintain the facade of a stable Underboss.

His next move was a "birthday party" for me. It was a command performance, a summons for every important member of the De Luca family to our home to witness our "perfect union." Standing by his side in a custom Dior gown, accepting kisses on my cheek and congratulations on my fabricated happiness, was the most profound humiliation of my life. I was a prop in his play.

And then, she arrived.

Aria walked into my home wearing a red dress, a blatant copy of one I had worn to a gala last year. She was escorted by one of Alex's younger Capos. Her presence sucked the air out of the room. An older Capo's wife, a woman who had known me for years, squinted at her.

"My God," she murmured to her husband, loud enough for me to hear. "She looks just like Katarina did when she was younger."

Alex, ever the performer, steered Aria into the crowd. "Everyone," he announced with a charming smile, "I'd like you to meet a distant cousin of the family, Aria." He introduced her, but his hand lingered on the small of her back, a gesture of ownership so blatant it was an insult. He was parading his mistress in front of the entire family, in my home, on my "birthday."

I moved through the crowd, my smile frozen in place, but my ears were open. I heard two Capos talking in low voices by the bar.

"...seen them at the safe house in the Village almost every night," one said.

"He's gotten reckless," the other replied. "The Don won't tolerate this kind of disrespect to his wife. It shows weakness."

It wasn't just a fling. It was a long-term, calculated affair. My entire marriage, my position as the "perfect queen," had been a lie from the start. I was a political pawn, a beautiful piece of decor to solidify his power, and now, my use was expiring.

I watched them from across the room. Alex whispering in Aria's ear, her head thrown back in a coarse laugh. He was so consumed by his cheap fire, he couldn't see the ice forming around him. He didn't realize that my silence was not submission.

It was a vow. A Vow of Silence that would end with his ruin and my freedom.