I Married The Don 3 Years While He Kept His Mistress 7 Years Chapter 08
I moved to the shelter.
Three days later, it was Grandma Rosalia’s eightieth birthday.
I planned to wait until the party was over, then sit down with Lorenzo and make the divorce official.
The shelter wasn’t big. I’d rented it with my own savings.
It wasn’t just for stray cats and dogs—I also kept a few little ones I’d pulled from slaughterhouses, picked up off the highway, or smuggled out of dogfighting rings.
I only had two staff members.
Young girls, like me.
Soft-hearted, like me.
Chiara showed up while I was bathing a border collie.
She’d pulled up in a Maserati, parked right outside the gate. The license plate was a Greco family special issue.
“Aurora?”
She stood at the entrance, pinching her nose like she was standing next to a dumpster.
“The Don asked me to tell you—until you apologize and admit you were wrong, he’s taking back the Alfa Romeo.”
“Also, the jewelry and bags he gave you, they’re expensive, so he wants those back too—”
“Fine.”
I didn’t look at her. I kept working the shampoo into the collie’s coat, my voice flat.
“I didn’t take them with me. They’re still at the estate—no, at my ‘uncle’s’ place. You didn’t have to come all the way here to tell me that.”
“They were his to begin with. He can do whatever he wants with them. It’s got nothing to do with me.”
Chiara stood there in her heels on the gravel, frozen for a few seconds.
Then she pulled out her phone and said straight into it: “Don, you heard that.”
Silence on the other end. Then heavy breathing.
After a moment, Lorenzo’s voice came through—rough, uncertain.
“That car… I gave it to you for your eighteenth birthday. And the jewelry—every birthday, every Christmas, every anniversary—you don’t want any of it?”
Hearing that, I thought back to the years when things weren’t this broken between us.
Back then, I hid all my teenage feelings in every shy glance I stole at him. Now that the mask was off, all I could smell was rot.
“Yes.”
I said it without hesitation.
“None of it.”
Chiara put on this fake concerned tone:
“Why put yourself through this? Just say sorry, swallow your pride, and the Don won’t keep pushing—”
The line went quiet on his end.
I didn’t pause.
“I don’t want any of it.”
“And this border collie? I just pulled him from a dogfighting ring a few days ago. He’s scared of everything. Especially strangers.”
“So Miss Chiara, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t come back here. He really doesn’t like you.”
Chiara left with her face red with anger.
I didn’t pay it much mind.
I just folded the divorce papers carefully, tucked them into my bag, and waited for the party to end so I could hand them over.
Everything would finally be settled.
But I never expected—
While I was at the old house early, helping Grandma get ready for her birthday, the shelter got trashed.
When I got back, the cats and dogs were scattered everywhere, terrified.
Chiara was standing in the middle of shattered glass, clutching her leg, screaming:
“You fucking animal! It bit me!”
My heart dropped. I ran inside.
And then I saw the border collie.
Lying in a pool of blood. Teeth still bared.
Not moving anymore.