Three Divorces Later, The Mafia Princess Is Getting Married Again Chapter 03
“No,” Dario barked immediately.
“Yes,” I countered smoothly.
“There’s no need to hide it. Everyone will know tomorrow anyway.” I took the document right out of Marcella’s hands, holding it up like a trophy for everyone to see.
“Dario is going to reject me at the wedding ceremony tomorrow.”
Dario’s expression shifted, but he recovered quickly.
By initiating the talk of divorce right in front of Leandro and Silas, I was proving to them just how far I was willing to go for him.
A smug glint flashed in Dario’s eyes.
“Aurelia,” he said, stepping closer, his tone placating. “We can talk about this privately. There’s no need to—”
“Since you’ve admitted it,” Marcella interrupted, “then can I ask when you plan to pack up and move out?”
The living room fell into a dead silence.
Dario frowned. Marcella ignored him, fixing her innocent gaze entirely on me.
“Dario gave me this co-op as a gift. You can’t possibly keep living here forever, right?”
I froze.
The co-op I had lived in since childhood was her gift?
I instinctively looked at Dario.
“These velvet curtains are exactly the style I love,” Marcella said, spreading her arms as she spun elegantly through the living room. “This crystal chandelier is the exact birthday gift I wished for.”
“And this oil painting… Dario and I won it together at a charity auction.”
“This entire co-op is the grand gift Dario decided to give me for the most important milestone of my life.”
“Shut up!” Dario roared, delivering a sharp slap across Marcella’s face. He refused to meet my eyes.
“You dare hit me!” Marcella cried, clutching her cheek as tears welled in her eyes.
In an instant, my two ex-husbands and Dario completely panicked. They rushed forward, crowding around Marcella to comfort her while hurling accusations at one another.
Once again, I was shut out, left to stand in the freezing wind howling through my heart.
He had apparently forgotten that this pre-war co-op was an inheritance left to me by my parents.
Before this, only Dario and I had lived here. Not even Leandro or Silas had ever stayed over, because I wanted this space reserved exclusively for my future love.
When he told me he had meticulously chosen every piece of furniture, I had been deeply moved by his care, looking forward to our married life.
It turned out that in his eyes, it was all just a curated gift for someone else.
I looked down at the divorce agreement in my hand and let out a cold laugh.
“I’m leaving right now.”
“Aurelia…” Dario took a step toward me.
“Don’t be late for the ceremony tomorrow.” Without looking back or packing a single suitcase, I picked up a small birthday ornament my parents had given me and quietly walked out.
As I left, the chaos in the living room faded, replaced by the voices of my two ex-husbands.
“She’s so compliant! I told you she doesn’t care about getting divorced.”
“When I begged her to be my wife, I actually had to squeeze out a couple of tears. But with you, you didn’t even have to lift a finger and she agreed… Man, you really are a heartless bastard.”
“It’s all for our promise to Marcella.”
Their casual tones felt entirely foreign. It was as if I had never truly known them.
Yet, my heart was far calmer than I expected.
The moment I stepped out of the co-op, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Dario:
[I’m so sorry, honey. I’ve just been overwhelmed with work and forgot to explain… Marcella was going through a vulnerable time, and I had to use this method to help her.]
[Crash somewhere else for a few days. I’ll come pick you up soon.]
Pick me up in a few days? He spoke as if I had just stepped out for a cup of coffee and would be right back.
I leaned back against the leather seat of my Maybach and closed my eyes.
No need, Dario. Don’t bother coming to pick me up.
I dialed a deeply familiar number.
“Uncle,” I said into the receiver.
“I accept the arranged marriage.”
