Chapter 2

(Bianca’s POV)

Antonio had never publicly acknowledged our relationship.

For three years, I had been his woman, yet to the outside world, the future Don of the Armani Family remained a single man—charming, composed, and untouchable.

I never questioned why he kept me hidden. Back then, simply being with him felt like enough.

I had fallen for Antonio in high school after he stepped in front of me when a bully threw boiling water my way. Ten years had passed since then, yet my feelings for him had never faded.

Three years ago, after Antonio and Gianna ended their relationship, he spent several nights drinking himself senseless. I followed him to one of the family's underground clubs, enduring the thick smoke, loud music, and endless chatter of made men because I couldn't bear to leave him alone.

That night, somewhere between drunken frustration and heartbreak, he looked at me and asked if I wanted to be with him.

I knew he wasn't asking because he loved me. I knew he was hurting and trying to get over Gianna. Even so, I couldn't refuse him.

I convinced myself that if I loved him enough and treated him well enough, one day he would return those feelings.

Looking back now, I realized how wrong I had been.

At home, I watched the hours crawl by until midnight came and went without any sign of Antonio. Then my phone lit up with a message.

[Amore, I have a meeting with some associates tonight. I'll be home late. Don't wait for me. Get some sleep.]

Unfortunately for him, I had already seen Gianna's social media story.

The photo showed a man carrying her on his back. Although the image was blurry, I recognized Antonio immediately.

The caption read:

[Still the perfect husband material. I'm honestly getting emotional. Should I accept his proposal?]

So that was his important meeting.

He hadn't just spent the evening with her. He had proposed to her.

Not the vague promises he occasionally gave me whenever I talked about the future, but a real proposal—the kind a man makes when he genuinely wants to spend his life with someone.

As I stared at the photo, I felt like I had been transported back to my school days, standing on the sidelines while watching the two of them together.

A sharp pain suddenly twisted through my stomach, forcing me to put my phone down.

I was already planning to leave him. There was no reason to keep torturing myself.

Getting up from the couch, I began packing away everything that represented our relationship. The matching toothbrushes, the couple mugs, the decorative pillows I had carefully chosen for our home—all of it went into a trash bag.

I had just tied it shut when the front door opened.

Antonio walked in and immediately noticed the bag.

“Amore, didn't you like those things?” he asked. “Why are you throwing them away?”

I lowered my eyes and kept my voice calm.

“They've gotten old. I'm tired of them.”

Part of me hoped he would notice something was wrong and ask another question.

He didn't.

As usual, he wasn't paying enough attention.

Instead, he walked over and rested a hand on my stomach.

“Were you good today, little one?” he murmured softly. “Daddy's home.”

The sight would have touched me once. Antonio looked every bit like the perfect father—gentle, patient, and affectionate.

I used to believe that if he loved our baby so much, then some part of him must love me too. Maybe he simply wasn't good at expressing his feelings.

Now I understood the truth.

His love was for the child.

Not for the woman carrying it.

“Amore,” he said, “you're still upset about what happened at headquarters, aren't you? Don't be angry that I didn't tell you Gianna was joining the organization. She's between jobs, so I'm helping her out for a while. It's only temporary.”

Only then did he seem to notice that I hadn't taken his coat from him like I always did.

His tone softened as he stepped closer.

“Are you jealous?” he asked with a small smile. “You don't need to worry. Gianna is part of my past. I don't have feelings for her anymore. I have you now.”

I almost laughed at the irony.

If I hadn't walked into Antonio's private office earlier, if I hadn't heard him promising Gianna a future, and if I hadn't seen the truth with my own eyes, I might have believed him. I might have been touched by his words and found comfort when he leaned in and gently kissed my cheek a moment later.

But now, every kind word, every gentle touch, and every promise felt less like love and more like a lie meant to keep me by his side.