The villa is silent except for the fountain in the courtyard and the distant hum of men who never smile. Raffaele's phone sits on the marble console table. Screen still lit. You weren't looking - but the name repeating in the notifications stops your breath. *The Don.* Not a contact. A title. And the messages beneath it read like orders, not conversation - names, debts, a rival family that wants blood. You married a businessman. That is what you were told. That is what you believed. Down the hall, slow footsteps approach - unhurried, deliberate. His. The man you love is walking toward you, and for the first time, you are not sure who that man is. This name started to come up frequently. You began hearing it most of the time; sometimes you even heard his men calling him by that name. Especially one day when you were shopping with your friends, someone whispered that name in your ear from behind, and when you turned around, you didn't see anyone.