My Mafia Husband Shared Our Sex Tape For A Bet So I Found A Deadlier Don Chapter 02
Red Roses and Broken Memories
His smile died.
“You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I posted a video. We were wearing masks. Nobody can tell who’s in it.” He sat up, irritated. “Did you even read the comments? They were all compliments—”
I got up and started putting on my clothes. One piece at a time. Silent.
His jaw tightened. “Bianca. Don’t forget who gave you this life. You walk away from me, you lose my protection. You think you’ll still live like this?”
I looked at him.
“Are you free right now?”
He blinked. His pride took over.
“Fine. Divorce. Let’s go.”
He threw on a shirt and stormed out.
We drove to our family lawyer’s office in silence.
The lawyer asked for our reason.
Lorenzo sneered at me. “Go ahead. Tell them you’re filing because you can’t take a joke.”
I looked at the lawyer. “We can’t fix this marriage.”
His face went dark. He grabbed the pen, signed his name in quick, furious strokes, then slammed it down.
“When you’re done throwing your little tantrum,” he said, looking down at me, “you can come back here yourself and withdraw the application.”
He left before I finished signing.
The lawyer looked at me with pity. I didn’t look up. I wrote my name carefully—every letter deliberate—and slid the form across the counter.
“Thank you.”
Outside, the parking lot was empty. He was already gone.
I remembered our first real fight, years ago. He’d stormed out into a rainstorm. I ran after him, slipped, and split my leg open on the pavement. He came back with my favorite cake, saw the blood, and his eyes went red with guilt. He swore he’d never leave me behind again.
Now I stood alone outside the attorney’s office.
Some promises only mean something to the person who believed them.
Lorenzo didn’t come home for three days. No calls. No texts. Like nothing happened. Like if he ignored it long enough, I’d fold. It was his strategy now. Stay away. Wait for me to break first.
Before, it always worked. I always softened first.
Not this time.
On the third day, he showed up with flowers.
Red roses.
The one flower he’d sworn he would never give me. When I was twenty, I fell into rose bushes during an ambush. The thorns tore into my skin. He’d pulled every single thorn from my body with shaking hands, tears in his eyes, and promised me: never roses.
And he brought Mia with him.
She elbowed him, grinning. He stepped forward, bored and impatient.
“Fine. The joke went too far. I brought Mia so she could apologize.”
Mia clasped her hands together and bounced on her heels. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Rossi! He’s been miserable at the office all week. It’s my fault—I shouldn’t have made that bet with him. Forgive me? Please? Pretty please?”
Her eyes were bright. Not a trace of guilt.
Lorenzo held the roses out to me. “She said sorry. I brought you flowers. You’ve made your point. Now go cancel the divorce filing tomorrow.”
He still didn’t think I was serious.
I looked at the roses. Then at him.
“I hate red roses.”
His expression flickered. He remembered.
But he didn’t want to admit he was wrong, so he scowled. “It’s just flowers. You’re really going to be this petty?”
I turned my back on him and spoke to the housekeeper.
“All of these things by the stairs—throw them out.”
I’d spent the past three days cleaning out every gift he’d ever given me. Years of presents. A whole room full of memories. All of it sat by the door.
Lorenzo’s eyes swept over the pile. He recognized every single piece.
His hand tightened around the bouquet. His voice turned flat.
“Bianca. I’m giving you one more chance. Take these flowers. We move on. Yes or no?”
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