The Perfect Husband’s Deadly Secret

Adrian told me he'd be out of town on business for the Family. "Just a couple of days," he'd said, kissing my forehead like the doting husband he pretended to be. "I'll miss you." I smiled and waved him off, pretending to care. The moment his black sedan disappeared past the gate and the last soldier in the escort pulled away, I got to work. I'd spent the last few days observing his routines, watching where he kept his most guarded possessions. It didn't take long to find the safe hidden behind a painting in his office. The room still smelled faintly of his cologne and the cigars he shared with visiting capos on Sunday evenings. The code? That was easy. Viviana Vitale's birthday. The lock clicked open on my first try. Inside, everything I needed was neatly organized. There were documents from the clinic. Agreements signed for organ donation, records of the surgery, and proof that he'd authorized the transfer of my mother's organ to Viviana's sister. The surgeon's name was there too, a compromised doctor the Romano Outfit kept on retainer. Tears stung my eyes, but I forced them back. Beside the medical records were a series of financial transactions. Payments made to my ex-fiancé, Nico Carbone. For business, the receipts claimed. But I knew better now. My hands trembled as I sifted through them. Jewelry, designer clothes, vacations. He'd disguised them as gifts for associates, but every single one had been for Viviana. I found another pile of receipts. These were for me. The necklaces, the rings, the dresses. For years, I had thought they were lavish, extravagant even. But compared to Viviana's gifts, they were nothing. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. He had never loved me. I had been nothing more than a placeholder. A convenient wife to shield his obsession with Viviana. I sat down on the floor, surrounded by his lies. For a moment, I felt the tears spill over, hot and bitter. But then I clenched my fists. I wasn't going to cry. Not anymore. I pressed my thumbnail into the inside of my wedding band until the skin paled. Then I let go. I took out my phone and began photographing everything. The clinic agreements, the financial transactions, the receipts. All of it. I captured every detail. At the bottom of the safe, I found a folder labeled "Future Assets." Inside were investment plans, property deeds under shell companies, and insurance policies routed through the Family's legitimate fronts. I made copies of those too. When I was done, I closed the safe, leaving everything exactly as it had been. I walked out of the estate without looking back. The lawyer's office was my next stop. Not a Family lawyer. A civilian attorney in a building three neighborhoods away from any territory the Romanos claimed. "Mrs. Romano," he said, startled when I walked in unannounced. "I wasn't expecting you." "I need a divorce agreement," I said calmly. His eyes widened. "Does Mr. Romano—" "No," I interrupted. "He doesn't know. And I'd like to keep it that way for now." He hesitated. I could see him calculating the risk of crossing a capo's wife without the capo's knowledge. But then he nodded. "We already have a template prepared. All I need is your signature." He handed me the papers, and I skimmed through them. Everything was in order. I signed my name at the bottom with a steady hand. "Send it to him after I'm gone," I instructed. "No earlier." "Gone?" he asked, confused. But I didn't explain. I left the office and headed to my next destination. The building was tucked away in an alley off the waterfront, its sign faded and barely legible. A barbershop front with nothing behind the chair but a locked door. This was the place. A fixer's network specializing in making people vanish. The kind of operation that existed in the cracks between rival Families, serving anyone who could pay and keep their mouth shut. I pushed open the door, and the smell of cigarettes and damp paper filled the air. A man behind the counter looked up, his face shadowed under a hood. "You lost?" he asked. "No," I said firmly. "I need your services." His eyes narrowed. "What kind of services?" "I want to disappear," I said. "Completely." He leaned back, studying me. "You know what you're asking for?" "Yes." He smirked. "And what makes you think I can help you?" I reached into my bag and pulled out a stack of cash. The bills were crisp, untraceable. His smirk widened. "Now we're talking." He motioned for me to follow him to a back room. The walls were lined with monitors, and the hum of machinery filled the space. A police scanner crackled low in the corner. "Here's how it works," he began. "We'll fake your death. A car wreck, drowning, whatever you want. Once it's done, you'll get new papers, a new life. Ghost identity. No one will ever find you." I nodded, my resolve unshaken. "I want it to look like a suicide," I said. "Something believable. No loose ends." He handed me a clipboard. "Fill this out. We'll handle the rest."

The headline caught my eye before I even realized what I was looking at. "Adrian Romano and Viviana Vitale spotted at exclusive charity auction—sparks still flying after all these years." My heart stopped, a sharp ache spreading through my chest. I sat frozen, staring at my phone screen as if it had betrayed me. There they were, Adrian and Viviana, dressed to perfection, glowing as if the world revolved around them. They stood close, smiling at each other with an intimacy that turned my stomach. The photos were everywhere. Viviana's hand lightly brushed his arm, a soft, deliberate touch, and his gaze lingered on her face, warm and familiar. They looked like a perfect couple, the kind you'd see in one of those society-page spreads the neighborhood wives passed around after Sunday Mass, radiating elegance and charm. And to think he told me he was handling business for the Family up in Atlantic City. This wasn't business. The auction wasn't a professional engagement. It was a date. I scrolled further, my hands trembling as I read the article. The words painted a nauseating picture of their chemistry, their "undeniable connection." Each sentence felt like a knife twisting deeper into my chest. I dropped my phone onto the couch as my vision blurred. My chest tightened, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe. The betrayal I had convinced myself wasn't real was now staring me in the face, undeniable and merciless. But then, I thought of my baby. I rested my hand gently on my stomach, closing my eyes as I took a slow, deep breath. This life growing inside me, so innocent, so pure, didn't deserve to be tainted by my pain. It didn't matter how shattered I felt. This baby was a blessing, a light in the darkness, and I would cherish it no matter what. I had to be strong. Not for myself, but for my child. That's why I decided to go to the clinic. The sterile scent of the private Family doctor's office didn't calm my nerves, but the warmth of the doctor's smile did. As the ultrasound wand glided over my stomach, the rhythmic flicker of the baby's heartbeat filled the room. "Everything looks perfect," the doctor said, pointing to the screen. "You're carrying a healthy baby." Tears welled up in my eyes, but this time, they weren't from sadness. Relief washed over me, soft and warm, breaking through the layers of hurt. For the first time in weeks, I felt something other than pain. I felt hope. After leaving the clinic, I knew what I had to do next. I made my way to the Romano shipping offices on the waterfront, a building that had once felt like a second home. But now, as I stood before the heavy double doors with their frosted glass panels and the Romano crest etched above the lintel, I felt like an outsider. The lobby was polished marble and quiet authority, the staff greeting me politely but with surprised glances. Soldiers posted near the stairwell tracked my movement without turning their heads. I clutched the resignation letter tightly in my hand. I stopped a passing secretary and asked, "Is Mr. Romano in his office?" "Yes, ma'am, but you can't go in right now," she said, her tone nervous. "Why not? I'm his wife," I said firmly, narrowing my eyes. The woman hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. "Mr. Romano has an important visitor, and he doesn't want to be disturbed." I blinked, stunned. "An important visitor? Who?" She avoided my gaze, her voice faltering. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I can't say." My chest tightened, anger simmering beneath my shock. He hadn't even told me he was back from his so-called trip to Atlantic City. "I'm his wife," I repeated, more forcefully this time. But she only shook her head. "I'm sorry, ma'am. He left strict instructions." I clenched my jaw and nodded, forcing myself to appear calm. "Fine," I said, my voice clipped. But I wasn't leaving. I waited until she walked away before slipping into the hallway leading to Adrian's office. The corridor was dim, the kind of quiet that meant the men who usually stood outside had been sent away on purpose. The door was slightly ajar, and I hesitated for a brief moment, my heart pounding. A part of me knew I shouldn't look, that whatever I saw would only hurt me more. But curiosity and pain pushed me forward. I peeked inside, and the air was knocked out of me. Adrian stood by his desk, and Viviana was in his arms. Their faces were close, far too close. Then, as if on cue, his lips met hers. My breath hitched. It felt like my entire world had collapsed in an instant. They kissed, completely oblivious to the world around them. The way his hand rested on her waist, the way her smile melted into his. It was as if nothing else mattered. Not the Family. Not the oath he'd taken at the altar of St. Cecilia's. Not the child growing inside me. I wanted to storm in, to scream, to shatter the perfect little bubble they had created for themselves. But I didn't. Instead, I reached for my phone with trembling hands. I snapped a photo, the camera capturing the exact moment Viviana looked up at him with that same sickening smile I'd seen in the auction pictures. It was perfect. I turned my back and just left the resignation letter on my desk for him to see once I was gone. Then I walked back to my car. Once inside, I stared at the photo, the image seared into my mind. I opened a dummy account on social media, uploaded the picture, and sent it directly to Nico Carbone, Viviana's husband. Back home, I packed everything Adrian had given me over the past five years and carried the boxes downstairs. I lit the fire and burned them all into ashes. As I watched the flames roar to life, Viviana appeared out of nowhere and without even saying a word kicked those boxes. It sent embers and photos flying all over the place, even on her face, but she just smiled. I blinked in shock. "Viviana, what are you doing?" "Oh, sorry! I just slipped. I didn't mean to do it," she acted innocent while still keeping that smile. "Wait, are these photos of you and Adrian? Why are you burning them? Did you finally realize how useless you are to him and you don't deserve these things?" I raised my brow. "Excuse me?" "I'm just saying how you couldn't protect your mother back then… you know, how she died… and you were so useless!" My thumbnail pressed hard into the inside of my wedding band until the skin paled. Then I stopped. It made me boil. Without thinking, I slapped her across her face. It wasn't even that hard but she fell straight into the fire.

I blinked in surprise. I hadn't expected it, but before I could do anything, a figure rushed from behind, shoved me to the ground, and took Viviana into his arms. I thought my heart couldn't shatter any more, but it did, especially when Adrian turned to look at me and started in on me like I was the one who'd crossed a line. "What the hell is wrong with you, Bianca? Viviana came here to pay her respects, and you hit her out of nowhere?" He glared at me, and I could feel no affection at all. Not a trace. As if I wasn't even his wife. As if the ring on my finger meant nothing inside this building, inside his world. I pressed my lips together and glared back at him. "She brought up my mother and called me useless. Do you think I would just sit tight when you haven't even given me an explanation about it back then? You just told me the operation failed… and what?" He raised his brow, and for a fleeting moment, I saw him panic, but then he smoothed the knot of his tie with one finger and tried to hide it. "Explanation? Didn't we talk about this already? It failed because of her critical condition. Why are you acting as if I was hiding something from you?" Because he was hiding something from me. I wanted to tell him that, but I didn't want to blow my cover. There was a right time for my vendetta. Before I could speak, he added, "Whatever happened, there is no reason for you to hurt Viviana when she's just being nice. Now, I want you to apologize to her." I didn't get the chance to say another word before Viviana spoke. "It's okay, Adrian. I think she must have still hated me after Nico broke their engagement and married me. Maybe I deserved her slap. It's okay. Don't make it any harder for her. Consider this my way of making amends." Her voice was gentle. Practiced. The kind of softness that men in this life never questioned because they confused it with weakness. The two soldiers stationed at the corridor entrance stood perfectly still, eyes forward, as if the scene playing out between the capo's wife and his kept woman required no intervention. They answered to Adrian. They would always answer to Adrian. They didn't wait for me to say anything else before they turned their backs. Halfway through the hall, I heard Viviana say, "If she despises me so much, maybe we should stop contacting each other. I don't want to make things difficult for you." I closed my fist. This was my last straw. I was over Adrian now. I ignored them and continued burning five years of what I thought was love, but was just a lie. A little later, Adrian texted me. I'm sorry, love. I know I hurt you by asking you to apologize to Viviana, but she's the head of the Carbone deal, and I just didn't want to affect the outfit negatively. Once this matter is resolved, I'll make it up to you. I mentioned I'd get you a gift. Just don't be upset, okay? I ignored his message and went to my room. I knew better. He loved Viviana. I was just a replacement. Once upstairs, I grabbed the bag I had packed earlier and left the house. The hotel room was cold and quiet, but it didn't bother me. I was alone, and that was all I wanted. I had barely settled in when my phone rang. It was one of the staff from the family's front office downtown. "Mrs. Romano, where are you?" she asked. "Have you forgotten that you have a meeting with an investor today?" But that wasn't the part that caught my attention. It was the voice on the other end. It was Adrian, telling his people to call a team of specialists to treat Viviana. I laughed. Was he serious? It was nothing but a scratch, yet he was willing to spend a fortune on someone else's wife. I hung up and told the secretary I wasn't going to attend. A little later, Adrian started calling me. I knew he was going to tell me about the meeting with the investors. It seemed he hadn't seen my resignation letter just yet. I answered the phone, hoping to hear his voice say my name, but he didn't realize I had already picked up because he was busy issuing instructions to his secretary. "Sir, are you sure you want to revise the contract? The losses the outfit will take on this deal will run into tens of millions if we go through with it. Please, consider this carefully." "No need. Revise it," he said. "It's what I promised Viviana, and what she wants, she gets." After his secretary left, he remembered he'd called me. "Hey, love. I'm sorry, but they told me you missed the meeting? What's wrong? It's important—" "I'm not feeling well." "Oh, I see. Then I'll cancel it now. Just take a rest, and I'll be back soon." I wasn't sure if he went back home because I had spent the whole day in the hotel room, waiting for the perfect moment to stage my death. But surely, he didn't come home. As I was scrolling through my phone, I came across a livestream from a high-end shop downtown. I didn't care at first, but then, from the background, I saw Viviana and Adrian together. On screen, he was busy helping Viviana pick out a dress. His hand rested on the small of her back the way it used to rest on mine. Casual. Proprietary. This was the time. I called my lawyer to send the documents to his staff as soon as possible, then called the fixers' network to finalize the plan. Not long after, his secretary rushed in with a pale face. She was holding her tablet and showed it to Adrian. "Sir, I think we have a problem. It seems like Mrs. Bianca learned about what happened to her mother five years ago, and she's asking for a divorce." From the screen, I could see Adrian's shocked face. His hand froze halfway to his tie. And then, after a while, another staff member approached. "Sir. Someone called. Mrs. Bianca killed herself because she couldn't accept what you did to her mother."