Power never waited for feelings.
That was the rule I had lived by, built my empire on, bled for; feelings slowed you down and got people killed. So I sat at the long black table in my private office, pen in hand, and signed my name like it was just another weapon.
De Luca Holdings, Shipping routes, Real estate fronts and Arms logistics, all hidden under clean numbers.
Luca stood to my right, watching every stroke of the pen with sharp interest. Two lawyers sat across from me, nervous but impressed, they always were. Money and fear had the same effect on people, always remember that.
"Final signature," one of them said.
I signed.
The deal locked, millions moved to secure territories and still, something felt wrong.
The door opened without a knock.
Father Angelo walked in.
The room shifted instantly, even Luca straightened, his smile fading.
Father Angelo wasn't loud; he didn't need to be. He had been with the family before I took my first breath. He knew where the bodies were buried and why.
"You're late," Luca said lightly.
Father Angelo ignored him, while his eyes went to me, calm, heavy, but disappointed.
"We need to talk," he said.
"Later," I replied, already standing. "I'm busy."
"So is your marriage," he said.
The lawyers froze.
I snapped my gaze to him. "Leave us," I ordered.
They didn't hesitate.
The door closed and silence pressed in.
Luca crossed his arms. "If this is about Isabella…"
"It is not your place," Father Angelo said sharply.
That got my attention.
I stepped closer, lowering my voice. "Speak."
Father Angelo folded his hands behind his back. "You're losing her."
I let out a breath through my nose. "She's safe, she has everything she needs."
"She has everything but you."
I turned away, walking back to the table. I gathered the contracts, stacked them neatly.
"This again?"
"You think distance protects her," he continued. "But silence destroys faster than bullets."
I slammed the folder down. "You think I don't know that?"
"Then why do you keep choosing it?"
Because if she knew the truth, she'd be a target.
Because if she saw what I really was, she'd leave.
Because loving her was the one weakness my enemies would use without mercy.
I didn't say any of that.
"She married into this life," I said instead. "She understood."
Father Angelo shook his head slowly. "No. She trusted."
The word cut deeper than it should have.
Luca scoffed. "With respect, Padre, emotions don't keep an empire standing."
"No," Father Angelo replied. "But they keep a man human."
I met Luca's eyes. "Give us a moment."
Luca hesitated, then smiled. "As you wish, master."
When he left, the room felt heavier.
Father Angelo stepped closer. "I've seen this before, Matteo. Men like you think love is a luxury, until it's gone."
"I'm not losing control," I said.
"You already are."
I laughed once, humorless. "She lives in a penthouse guarded by armed men."
"And sleeps next to a stranger," he shot back.
Silence.
I thought of Isabella's back last night. The space between us. The way she hadn't leaned into me, hadn't breathed me in like she used to.
"She's unhappy," Father Angelo said softly. "That is dangerous."
"For who?" I asked.
"For both of you."
I picked up my phone, checking messages, no nothing from her. Of course not. She had stopped texting the first weeks ago, I noticed, but I just refused to chase it.
"I don't have time for this," I said.
Father Angelo's gaze hardened. "Make time. Or prepare for consequences."
I looked up. "Is that a threat?"
"It's a warning."
He turned and walked out, leaving the words hanging like smoke.
I told myself he was wrong.
I always did.
That night, I came home late. Again.
The penthouse lights were dim and too quiet.
"Isabella?" I called.
No answer.
I found her in the living room, sitting on the couch with a folder in her lap. She wore a simple dress, no jewelry, her hair was loose, falling around her shoulders like it used to when we were younger.
"What's that?" I asked.
She looked up. Her eyes were calm, and that scared me more than anger. "I met with a lawyer today."
The world narrowed.
"Why?" I asked carefully.
"Because I don't know where I stand in your life," she said. "And I'm tired of guessing."
I moved closer. "This again?"
"Yes," she snapped. "Because you never answer."
I clenched my jaw. "You're overreacting."
She stood. "I'm suffocating."
The word hit hard.
"I do this to protect you," I said. "You don't see what I deal with."
"Because you won't let me," she said. "You shut me out and call it love."
I reached for her wrist, but she pulled away.
"Don't," she warned.
I froze.
"You think money replaces honesty," she continued. "You think silence is safe, but all it's doing is pushing me out."
"I am your husband," I said.
"Only on paper," she replied.
I lost my temper then. "You want the truth? This life eats people alive, I won't feed you to it just for you to feel included."
Tears filled her eyes, but her voice stayed steady. "I didn't ask to be included, I simply asked to be chosen."
The room went quiet.
"I chose you," I said.
"No," she whispered. "You hid me."
She walked past me toward the bedroom.
"Isabella," I called. "This conversation isn't over."
She stopped at the door, her hand trembling on the handle. "It is for tonight."
The door closed.
I stood alone in the dark, Father Angelo's warning echoing in my head.
You're losing her.
The next morning, I signed three more contracts.
I ignored the tightness in my chest.
At noon, Luca brought news. "Romano shipping is under review, but authorities are sniffing around."
"Handle it," I said.
He smiled. "Already I am in control."
I didn't notice the way his eyes lingered.
By evening, Isabella didn't come home.
There was no message, no call.
I checked my phone, still nothing.
For the first time in years, control slipped.
I drove through the city without a destination, anger burning under my skin, but I told myself she just needed space.
But deep down, something darker twisted.
At midnight, Father Angelo called.
"She's packing," he said.
My grip tightened on the wheel. "What?"
"She came to see me," he continued. "She asked about divorce."
The word slammed into me like a gunshot.
"No," I said. "She wouldn't."
"You left her alone too long," he replied. "And now she's choosing herself."
I hung up without a word.
When I reached the penthouse, half her closet was empty.
The scent of her perfume still hung in the air, cruel and familiar.
On the bed lay a single envelope.
My name is on it.
I didn't open it.
I didn't have to.
Because for the first time, fear outweighed power.
And somewhere in the city, Isabella Romano was walkin
g away from me, whilwalkingill believed silence could save us.
It was the last lie I told myself.
End of Chapter Five