I Took Half, He Kept His Queen

For five years, I was the loyal shadow behind Dominic Falcone, the ruthless Don of the Cosa Nostra.

But for the third year in a row, he forgot my birthday.

Instead, I watched him scrape my untouched birthday cake into a thermos.

"This is for Elena. She is having a severe panic attack."

With those cold words, he rushed off to comfort his Consigliere's fragile daughter.

He always claimed Elena was just a ward he was sworn by blood to protect.

Yet, he gave her the custom armored SUV he bought as my compensatory gift.

He shared a drink from her straw in front of his soldiers, letting her publicly mock my place in his life.

During cartel shootouts or when I was burning with a severe fever, his fierce protection was solely reserved for her, leaving me to fend for myself.

I used to think his emotional distance was simply the heavy burden of a Mafia Boss.

I couldn't understand how a man who once claimed me with terrifying devotion could now completely erase my existence for another woman's trivial whims.

Why did I have to bleed out in a one-sided war just to fight for second place?

Sitting in his cold marble penthouse, I finally realized it is not difficult to surrender something that was never truly yours.

So, on the day my security lease expired, I packed a single black canvas bag.

I transferred my exact half of the living expenses to his illicit offshore account.

Then, I blocked the Don's number and vanished without a trace.