After Seeing the Don’s Thoughts

Everyone says Matteo only married me out of debt. My father took a bullet for him. Four years into our marriage, my separation anxiety hit an all-time high. As the Don, he never snapped. He canceled big meetings. He stayed every single time panic set in. At my worst, I held onto his arm all night. Even when it went numb, he never pulled back. He put up with it all. The late-night location checks. Going through his phone. He stayed until I thought we were solid. I thought it was love. Then the floating words started appearing. His soft chuckle and sweet "You're impossible" actually came with this: [When is this nightmare over?] His gentle "My girl is the prettiest" really meant: [God, she's so full of herself.] That was my wake-up call. His patience was never love. It was just a cold obligation. If I'm just a burden he tolerates, I'm out. Chapter 1 [Still awake? Such an annoying dead weight.] 11:40 PM. The heavy oak door pushed open. Those glowing, semi-transparent words popped up right above Matteo's head out of nowhere. I froze by the bed. My pupils shrank. Matteo walked in, smelling of cold gunpowder. A hint of perfect concern touched his handsome, ruthless face. He slipped off his suit jacket, wrapped an arm around my waist, and kissed my forehead. "Why are you still up, baby? I told you to sleep early." His voice was smooth and warm. His eyes dripped with affection. His lips didn't move. But another line hovered above his head: [She haunts me with this useless drama every single day. Doesn't she ever get tired of it?] My blood ran cold. Ice filled my veins. For four years, he was the flawless husband. Sometimes, I even forgot he was a cold-blooded Mafia Don. I reached out. I gently unbuttoned his collar and whispered, "This weekend… do you want to go to the ranch and relax?" "Of course. As soon as I clear my schedule, I'll take you." He smiled and stroked my hair. Pure, flawless tenderness. Then a line flashed across his head: [The ranch? Boring as hell. Who has time to play pretend with her?] My hand froze in the air. I pulled back slowly and moved to the edge of the king-sized bed. "Yeah… let's talk about it later then." I stopped. I pretended to be dead tired and pulled up the blanket. A second later, new words popped up: [Finally, some peace and quiet.] I closed my eyes. I buried my face in the pillow. I let the icy darkness swallow me whole. 7:00 AM the next morning. I went downstairs early. I ground premium coffee beans and baked fresh pastries. I made everything to Matteo's exact taste. He used to shower me with praises for this. But today, I was terrified to see his real thoughts. Matteo walked down the stairs in a sharp suit. He sat at the dining table, took a sip of coffee, and smiled at me gently. "Smells great, Sienna. Thanks, honey." [Every single day with these trashy coffee and sugary junk. Where is the class and dignity of a Mafia boss's wife?] [Completely pointless.] Two lines hovered right above his coffee cup. Four years of devotion. To him, it was just cheap begging. "I have an executive meeting. I need to run." He wiped his mouth smoothly, gave me a polite goodbye kiss on my cheek, and walked toward the door. 10:00 AM. The gates of the estate swung open. Old Mrs. Alessandra walked into the foyer, flanked by four guards in black suits. Her head was held high. She offered me a noble, polite smile. "Sienna. You look well today." I stepped back respectfully. "Mrs. D'Angelo. Good morning." A sharp, nasty thought floated above her head: [At least she knows her place. She didn't dare crawl up to call me family.] She strutted down the hallway like a landlord inspecting her property. She pretended to check the gardens. She threw sweet fake words at me, but her real thoughts poured out in a brutal storm: [What else can she do besides petty housework? Useless.] [If her deadbeat dad hadn't taken a bullet for my husband back then, a girl with her trashy background wouldn't even step foot near the D'Angelo gates.] I dug my nails into the cold marble pillar. My nails almost snapped in half. Every bit of tenderness, every ounce of respect—shattered into dust in a single second. No love. No gratitude. My marriage was never a romance. It was just a cold transaction for the Mafia to pay off a blood debt. 3:00 PM. The living room phone rang loudly. I picked it up. A guard's polite yet cold voice came through the speaker: "Ma'am, the Don has an emergency commission meeting tonight. He sent word for you not to wait up for dinner." Click. The dial tone echoed in the empty hall. On the twelve-meter luxurious dining table sat my freshly prepared dry-aged steak and top-shelf red wine. I sat alone at the head of the long table. I stared at the dinner that had already gone cold. I cut a piece of steak with my silver fork and put it in my mouth. I chewed for a long, long time. I couldn't taste a single thing. Chapter 2 [Here she comes again. Can't she see I'm going through dirty balance sheets?] Saturday, 2:00 PM. I walked toward the study with a crystal glass of whiskey in my hand. Those floating words slammed into my eyes out of nowhere. Over time, this creepy mind-reading power stretched past three meters. The ruthless schemes of eight armed guards and two private doctors, even the guard's petty grudges outside—I saw them all clearly whenever they came close. Matteo sat behind a heavy oak desk. He was scanning bills from underground casinos and gun-running laundries. He raised his head. His face wore his usual gentle, caring smile. "Thanks for bringing me a drink, Sienna. You shouldn't have." Then the glowing letters bounced above his head without mercy: [She sure knows how to pick her timing. Zero common sense. Your husband is the Don, not some stray dog with nothing better to do!] I squeezed the cold glass. My knuckles turned white. "Get back to work then." I set the glass down gently on the corner of the desk. I turned and walked out of the study. The heavy oak door slammed shut behind me. At that exact moment, the last door in my heart locked forever. 3:30 PM. The sharp click of high heels on granite echoed outside the estate. Matteo's childhood friend and family legal consultant, Nicole Vance, arrived. She wore a tight, sleek black leather jacket and held a fancy gift box. Nicole saw me in the living room. She flashed an elegant, fake smile. "Sienna. I brought Matteo a custom ivory-handled revolver from the Paris black market." [Who is she playing the helpless trophy wife for? Does she really think that worthless title keeps her safe?] [A useless canary with zero background. Completely worthless to the family business.] Two lines of vicious, sarcastic text hung right above Nicole's head. "Nicole, you're here." The study door opened. Matteo walked out. His face was stern, but the words floating above his head exposed everything: [Sleek and capable. Now that's a woman who can stand beside me and control the board.] The three of us sat around the table. Nicole smoothly handed over an encrypted file. She flicked a provocative glance at me. "Matteo, I'm putting everything into this project. We're bidding for the exclusive trust rights to ‘Corvus', the top risk analyst on the Dark Web. Once we get his algorithms and hedging channels, our family's underground cash flow becomes bulletproof." She talked business. But her mind shrieked at me: [Once I snatch the rights to Corvus, let's see what chips you have left to stay by his side.] [In this family, money and power are the only things that matter.] I held my tea. I lowered my eyes to hide the cold sneer bleeding through. Exclusive trust rights? Corvus? The dark web legend they hunted worldwide, offering insane bounties for just a meeting—sat right across from them, quietly sipping tea. Four years ago, Matteo frowned and told me, "Sienna, women of the D'Angelo family don't show their faces outside." For his fragile ego, I shut down my multi-screen terminals. I hid top-tier algorithms. I willingly buried all my fire and stayed locked in this estate as his sweet, obedient wife. They had no idea. With my dark web partner Chloe working in the shadows, the name "Corvus" already ruled the black market. My calculation fee for a single risk hedge jumped to twelve million dollars. The dark web god all the Mafia families begged to see was right here in his living room, treated like a clueless, fragile trophy. "Nicole, this project is crucial. The family backs you one hundred percent." Matteo nodded. Admiration dripped from his eyes. Nicole smiled like a winner. Smugness practically burst from her face. I set my teacup down softly. The porcelain clinked with a sharp snap. No arguments. No screaming. Four years of fake sweetness shattered into dust right here. "You two take your time. I'm a bit tired." I stood up. I didn't give the two people at the table a second glance. I walked straight down the hallway. Nicole left. Silence swallowed the empty hall whole. I walked to the archway and leaned against the freezing marble pillar. The cold wall pressed against my back. It cleared my mind like never before. The safe haven I once believed in was nothing but a cage built on hate and scheme. I closed my eyes slowly. I whispered to myself: I'm done. Four years as a docile trophy wife. Done. Finished. Chapter 3 7:00 AM sharp. Usually, freshly baked scones and hot espresso would cover the dining table by now. Today, I reached out, slapped the ringing alarm off, and rolled over to keep sleeping. I stayed in bed until Matteo's annoyed voice echoed from downstairs. "Where's breakfast? Why is the table empty?" He stood before the large, bare dining table. His face darkened. The maid beside him bowed her head, trembling. "Lady D'Angelo usually manages breakfast. She didn't come down today, so the kitchen didn't prep anything..." Matteo frowned subtly, saying nothing. He didn't even bother sending a servant upstairs to check if I was sick. He smoothed his suit cuffs, stepped outside, and drove off with his massive motorcade of six bulletproof black SUVs, speeding into the distance. In the past, I would have sent my routine safety text by now, double-checking every single security detail on his schedule. Today, I cut all of it off. I stayed in bed until he left. Then I got up, threw on a sleek black trench coat and dark sunglasses, smoothly bypassed the estate guard posts, and slipped out of the main house without a sound. Thirty minutes later, I dialed my dark web partner Chloe using an encrypted satellite phone. "Chloe, book me a meeting with those senior investors in Brooklyn," I said, pulling my hat low. My voice was icy and sharp. "The secret roadshow we planned? It starts today." Chloe gasped in pure excitement over the line. "Lord Corvus! You're finally making a comeback? Those Mafia old-timers doubled their bounties just to locate you!" 2:00 PM, Brooklyn underground district. I pushed open a hidden door behind a run-down auto repair shop and carefully scanned the perimeter. Three massive walls of encrypted multi-screen terminals. Two heavy blast doors for emergency escapes. This was my designated private studio. The second I flipped the main power switch, cool blue light lit up my eyes. For four years, I wore the chains of a Don's wife. Starting this second, I took back total control. 8:00 PM. The estate was dead silent. Matteo came back to the main house early for once. He pushed the door open. No warm candlelight, no gourmet dinner—just a pitch-black, freezing living room. He loosened his tie and looked around with a heavy frown. Three lines floated ghost-like above his head: [No dinner either? What kind of mood episode is she throwing now?] [Whatever. At least my ears get a few days of peace.] [I just hope she doesn't break down, cry, and beg me to comfort her again.] He didn't even care to step into the bedroom for a look. He waved a private chef over. "Make some quick pasta and bring it to the study." At this exact moment, I sat alone under the floor lamp in my second-floor bedroom. My mind-reading power grew stronger by the hour. Now, thoughts within ten meters popped up crystal clear, even without me trying to look. Yet, I felt zero sadness. Playing the role of a powerless Don's wife for years made me almost forget who I really was. No fake social registry for Mafia spouses sat on my desk. It was global black-market cash models and encrypted ledgers. Downstairs, the heavy, cold thud of guards' patrol boots echoed through the hallway. I tapped my keyboard, flipping past page fifteen of an encrypted hedge ledger. Giant numbers flashed across the screen. My heart stayed completely flat. Not a single trace of the old pain remained. Giving up on a man was easier than I thought. Chapter 4 For five straight days, I didn't get up early to make breakfast. I stopped clinging to Matteo before bed to ask about Mafia gang wars. I stopped playing host at family dinners. Matteo just enjoyed the peace and quiet. Zero suspicion. He figured I was playing the "give him space" game again like before. He didn't care. Life suddenly turned peaceful. I used to flutter around like a desperate butterfly to please everyone. Looking back, I was pathetically stupid. On the sixth night, the heavy gates opened. Old Mrs. Alessandra arrived with Nicole. The second she stepped inside, she demanded a traditional Sicilian family dinner made by my hands. I leaned back on the couch. I didn't even lift an eyelid. My voice was dead cold. "The kitchen is missing ingredients. Order from a hotel." Alessandra flew into a rage instantly. "What kind of attitude is that?! You can't even cook a meal?! Where are your manners?!" Alessandra held her head high. The glowing words above her head throbbed with malice, matching her foul mood perfectly: [If we didn't owe her deadbeat dad a blood debt, Nicole would be sitting in the Don's wife seat by now.] Nicole stepped in quickly to play peacemaker, acting all sweet and submissive. "Auntie, don't be mad. I'll go into the kitchen and whip up some desserts." Alessandra sneered coldly. Her floating text updated: [Now this is a real woman fit for my son.] Nicole rolled up her sleeves and walked into the kitchen. Half an hour later, Nicole walked out with desserts. She used my favorite European royal bone china plate. Matteo bought this exact set for me at an auction for a fortune as a birthday gift. I always kept it on display like artwork. Yet she casually used it as a serving platter. Nicole noticed my stare and gasped loudly. "Oh gosh! I completely forgot this was a gift from the Don. Sienna, you don't mind, right?" She threw me a provocative glance. Her thoughts flashed direct and arrogant: [I did it on purpose. Once I move into this estate, I'll trash every single thing that belongs to you.] Right then, Matteo came home after work. He saw Nicole in casual clothes, busy in the estate kitchen. A rare touch of warmth washed over his eyes. An approving thought floated above his head: [She knows how to cook? Didn't expect that. So talented. She actually looks like the lady of the house.] He looked at the plate. His pupils contracted. He knew exactly what it was. [It's just a plate anyway. Sienna wouldn't be that petty.] He turned and saw me sitting still on the couch. A flick of confusion popped up: [Why is Sienna just sitting there? That's not like her.] After dinner, Nicole went to clean the dishes herself, playing the perfect, thoughtful woman to the extreme. Alessandra stepped away from the others and walked right up to me. She laid into me sharply. "Look at you now! Cold, disrespectful! Do you really think a background like yours fits this family?" The text above her head screamed even nastier and more brutal words: [Know your place. If it wasn't for that bullet back then, you wouldn't even be fit to wipe my son's shoes.] I stared straight at the arrogant old woman in front of me with zero expression. In the past, I would fake obedience on the outside and cry my eyes out at night. I never understood why doing everything right still couldn't win her over. More than anyone, I wanted my husband's mother to accept me. Now? I just felt a wave of pure relief. "I got it, Alessandra." I answered calmly. I dropped "Mrs." completely. My voice cut like ice. Alessandra's face turned pale. She clearly didn't expect me to call her by her first name. I didn't give her another look. I turned and walked upstairs. I looked back at Alessandra and everything in this estate. I knew it in my heart. This "I got it" was completely different from all my past tearful apologies. Everything here. I didn't want any of it anymore.