No Second Chance With The Cold Don

I am Elias Falcone, the Don of New York.

My seven-year mafia marriage to Siena Rossi was a treaty forged to bind our bloodlines, one I honored strictly because she was pure and separate from the grime of my profession.

Until a childish pop song suddenly blasted from her phone.

I discovered she was coddling a bottom-feeding Associate named Julian, letting him change her ringtone and trample all over the boundaries of a Don's wife.

When Julian publicly disrespected our sacred hierarchy at a family banquet, she shielded him.

On the night of our seventh anniversary, she abandoned our dinner to rush to his side after a staged accident.

"Walk out that door, and we are finished," I warned her.

She swore I was her only husband, but still pulled the door open and vanished into the freezing night to play his savior.

She even marched into my study the next morning, crying and accusing me of ordering my Soldiers to beat him half to death.

Did she really think a Don would use such cowardly, passive-aggressive methods?

If I wanted a gutter rat dead, he wouldn't be breathing at all.

She willingly indulged his disrespect and chose a manipulative coward over the man who owned her soul.

So, I summoned my legal team and my most vicious Capos.

I signed the divorce papers, ordered the bloodless seizure of one-third of her family's assets, and left her sobbing in the ashes of her ruined bloodline.