Chapter 1 - THE DAY I STOPPED WAITING
The first time I broke Dante Romano's heart, I was holding our newborn son in my arms.
Twenty-six hours earlier, I had given birth alone.
Not completely alone.
My older sister, Sofia, had stayed beside me through fourteen hours of contractions, wiped the sweat from my forehead, and held my hand when I thought I couldn't endure another minute.
But my husband hadn't been there.
Dante Romano, the most feared mafia boss in New York, had promised nothing in the world would keep him from witnessing the birth of our first child.
Then he'd flown to Italy.
And chosen another woman.
When he finally appeared at St. Catherine's Hospital in Manhattan, he carried white orchids and a black leather jewelry box.
I carried our son.
His name was Leo.
Dante looked at him with tears in his eyes.
“Can I hold him?”
“No.”
The word surprised us both.
Dante froze.
“Isabella.”
I looked at him.
“You missed his birth.”
“I didn't know you were in labor.”
“You knew I was nine months pregnant.”
His jaw tightened.
“I was dealing with something important.”
“So was I.”
Silence filled the room.
Then Sofia stood and placed a navy-blue folder on the bedside table.
Across the cover were the words:
ELIZABETH WARREN & CHASE — MATRIMONIAL AND FAMILY LAW
Dante opened it.
Inside were a filed divorce petition, an emergency custody application, and requests for financial protection.
He stared at the documents.
Then at me.
“You filed for divorce?”
“Yes.”
“Less than two days after giving birth?”
I gently adjusted Leo's blanket.
“You found time for Valentina.”
My voice remained calm.
“I found time for a lawyer.”
Dante looked as though someone had struck him.
“Bella, we have a family.”
I looked down at our son.
“That's what I thought too.”
He reached for the back of the chair.
His knuckles turned white.
“You can't do this.”
“I already have.”
For seven years, I had loved Dante Romano.
I had forgiven missed anniversaries, canceled vacations, and nights spent waiting beside a silent telephone.
I had learned to live with the dangerous men who came to our house.
The whispered conversations.
The armed guards.
The constant feeling that my husband's world would always come before mine.
But when I went into labor, I called him eight times.
He answered none of them.
And while I was screaming through contractions, he was photographed beside Valentina Russo at a luxury resort on the Amalfi Coast.
His former lover.
The woman he had promised was no longer part of his life.
Now he stood beside my hospital bed, asking for another chance.
“Tell me what you want,” he whispered.
I looked at Leo.
“I wanted you here.”
Dante closed his eyes.
“I know.”
“I wanted you to hold my hand.”
His breathing changed.
“I know, Bella.”
“I wanted our son to hear his father's voice when he came into this world.”
A tear slipped down my cheek.
“But you weren't there.”
Dante said nothing.
I kissed Leo's forehead.
“So I stopped waiting.”
He stared at me.
Then his gaze dropped to the divorce papers.
For the first time in our marriage, Dante Romano looked completely powerless.
And I realized something.
No money could buy back yesterday.
No threats could force me to forgive him.
And no amount of love could make me forget that when our son needed him most, Dante had chosen someone else.
I looked directly into his eyes.
“You chose her, Dante.”
May you like
Then I held Leo closer.
“And I chose our son.”
