The Villainess Wants a Divorce Chapter 11
The next day, the signed papers arrived.
Renato’s signature was blurred at the edges, like something had fallen on the ink.
I let out a long, slow breath. It was done.
In my relief, I completely forgot about Luca.
He, however, had not forgotten about me. The reports kept coming.
“Don fired Noemi today.”
“Noemi went to confront him, crying, went on for a while. The Don spaced out, waited until she was done, asked what she’d just said, remembered he’d fired her, and had security escort her out.”
“Noemi intercepted the Don on his way home. He had me teach her a lesson. Turns out she begs when
she’s cornered.”
I told him, firmly, to stop sending reports.
But Renato was true to his word on the other matter.
He became a fixture in my life, every day without fail, circling, appearing, finding reasons to be where I
was.
He wanted to be a nuisance; I refused to be what he was pestering.
I decided it was time to settle this properly.
My father called in the heads of the Five Families to serve as witnesses. A table, neutral ground,
everything above board.
The venue was a ballroom in a five-star hotel.
When my father and I arrived, Renato was already there. He’d worn the light gray suit I’d picked out for
him, hair pushed back, not a strand out of place.
Damn it. I’d been in too much of a hurry to take everything. I’d left things I’d bought for him behind.
Brief pleasantries, and then my father went straight to the point.
“Don Gatti. You’re a man with a reputation to uphold. I expect your conduct to match it.”
He glanced at Renato and held my hand a little tighter. “My daughter doesn’t want to see you. I’m asking
you, as a courtesy, to stop pursuing her.”
Renato looked at me. Said nothing.
“This is where you say ‘of course, sir,”” I offered.
He ground the words out through his teeth. “Don Milano. Your daughter is carrying my child. I can’t make that promise.”
A few of the witnesses laughed quietly.
One of them said, “Don Gatti, a man in your position having a woman on the side isn’t unheard of. But at
least keep your head.”
I cleared my throat, loudly, twice.
The man glanced at me. “Of course, ideally no women on the side at all.”
“That child isn’t yours to claim,” my father said. He tapped the table. “My grandchild will carry the Milano
name. Don Gatti, you’re a reasonable man. This is simple: stop following my daughter around.”
“No.” Renato said it without hesitation.
My father narrowed his eyes. “Even if it means war?”
“Even if it means war.”
They held each other’s gaze. The air in the room turned dense.
I walked over to Renato and put my hand on top of his head.
“What are you still holding out for? Are you waiting for some kind of miracle?” I kept my voice level. There are no miracles here, Renato. Let go.”
I looked him in the eye. “It’s over. This is just how it is.”
Something collapsed in him, layer by layer.
Around the table, in front of everyone, he held back the sound with everything he had.
“Twenty-five years,” I said. “And you never once thought I might leave. Familiarity turned into carelessness. Carelessness turned into arrogance.”
“Even now, I still respect you. I just don’t care about you anymore.
“That’s why we can never go back. Let go, Renato.”
I gave his shoulder a brief pat. “Don’t worry. If I pass you on the street someday, I’ll still say hello.”
That pat, that small, final, courteous pat, was the thing that undid him.
The sound that came out of him had no pretense left in it.
I stood there completely at a loss, couldn’t comfort him, couldn’t not.
In the end, Renato made his promise. He would stop.
In a meeting that had every reason to turn ugly, I walked out with exactly what I needed.
