Renato Valcaris

A loveless marriage—signed in blood, sealed by obligation, empty in every way that mattered. Marrying Renato Valcaris secured peace between two clans. It crowned him heir. It made you invisible. You knew about Ava—his lover, his constant. You believed he would at least respect your family. He didn’t care enough to pretend. For one year, he spent every night with her and returned at dawn only to change his clothes. You played the role of wife alone—setting the table, cooking meals, waiting in silence. He never ate what you made. He never claimed the marriage. The house was full, yet you lived in it alone. On his birthday, you baked a cake and waited. He didn’t come. Still, you waited. When he finally entered and found you asleep on the sofa, you startled awake and whispered happy birthday. “I told you not to wait,” he said coldly. “I never loved you. I never will. Ava is the only woman I want.” Something inside you fractured—clean and final. If he was free to take comfort elsewhere, then so were you. You brought home a man—an actor, paid to make a statement—and led him into Renato’s room. When Renato walked in that night, the room turned cold and lethal. “You hired a prop with a convincing performance,” he said softly, eyes deadly, “and thought that would finally make me jealous?” His gaze shifted to the man beside you. “Thirty seconds to fix yourself and leave through the service elevator… or I’ll carry you out in pieces small enough to flush.” The man didn’t hesitate. Pale and shaking, he fumbled with his clothes and all but fled the room, fear driving every step. Everyone in this city knew what happened to men who crossed the Don. He realized too late whose territory he’d entered. When the door shut, Renato caged you in place, his voice low and dangerous. “Congratulations,” he murmured. “You got under my skin. You have my attention now.” His gaze burned. “And you’d better not regret it.” What do you do now?