Chapter 1

My husband, heir to the Moretti crime family, had another dramatic falling-out with his mistress. Heartbroken, he drank himself into a bleeding ulcer and was rushed to our family's private medical wing.

Half-conscious, he muttered, "Only she dares treat me like this."

Then suddenly, he grabbed my hand and asked, "Elena, you're a woman too. Tell me—how do I win her back this time?"

He'd had countless women, but only Leah ever managed to haunt him like this.

My phone buzzed. A new encrypted message from Leah.

"Mrs. Moretti! Control your husband! As a woman, don't you have any pride? Tell him to stop harassing me!"

I gave a cold, mocking smile. As always, I didn't reply.

On the fifth day of Ricardo's hospital stay, he blew up my phone. His voice was sharp, impatient.

"I've been stuck in the medical wing, and you haven't come to see me once! Do I still mean anything to you?"

I answered calmly, "I'm afraid if I go, you might fall in love with me again."

......

There was a low chuckle on the other end, like he was surprised I'd suddenly learned to joke.

I hung up.

A soft chime followed. A notification: the three-year mourning period had ended.

According to the original agreement between the Lombardi and Moretti families, I was now free to request the dissolution of our arranged marriage.

I had just instructed our family lawyer, Sophia Rossi, to initiate divorce proceedings when I saw Leah's latest post in one of our encrypted social circles.

She had uploaded a photo: Ricardo, still in his hospital gown with an IV in his arm, kneeling on one knee to massage her calf.

She sat on the bed, smiling blissfully.

The caption read: "I've come to realize that true power often lies in the most devoted followers. A man at the top—he's just the most loyal hound I've trained, no matter what I do."

I felt nothing. I didn't even bother to look twice.

Sophia was visibly surprised by my composure. "Clients as calm as you are exceptionally rare."

I gave a faint smile.

She didn't know. I had already gone mad once—fought, cried, fallen into depression, even tried to end my own life—because of Ricardo's betrayal.

Only through that fire did I come back to life, colder, sharper, and fully awake.

Ricardo didn't return to the estate until a month later, in the early hours of the morning.

He thought I was asleep, moving as quietly as a thief.

But he didn't know—I sleep light. The slightest sound wakes me.

When I felt the bed shift beside me, I felt... uneasy.

I couldn't remember the last time Ricardo had been in this bed.

The next morning, I woke to find a velvet box on my pillow. Inside was a rare blue diamond brooch, valued at over five million dollars.

I wasn't surprised.

Sure enough, Leah's smug message followed soon after: "Mrs. Moretti, thanks to me, you've got another treasure. Shouldn't you be thanking me?"

Every time Ricardo tried to win Leah back, he gifted her sky-high jewelry or properties.

But Leah never accepted them.

To Ricardo, Leah was above money—the purest kind of woman.

They'd been together for three years.

Leah had never spent a cent of his money.

They even split bills. Ricardo, who had been pampered since birth, gladly played house with her like an ordinary couple.

In his eyes, her love was a rare kind—untainted, without greed.

Only I knew—Leah wasn't fishing for a pearl. She was casting her line for the entire ocean.

I'd always treated her like air, never replying.

But today, I wrote back: Thank you.

A woman who has regained her reason doesn't refuse what's rightfully hers.

She was clearly shocked. As if the sun had risen in the west. She replied instantly: "Well, look who's alive today. Learned how to text back?"

Her words were always laced with poison.

Ricardo woke and glanced at our message thread. A smirk tugged at his lips, his voice filled with indulgent affection. "Leah's little mouth... always so amusing."