He Traded Our Marriage for Port Rights, so I Left Sicily

Ilona Greco offered three years of priority shipping rights at the port in exchange for one thing. "Sterling, I want you to divorce Ophelia. Just for a month." The whole room went silent. I calmly picked up my coffee and didn't even look up. All of Sicily knew Ilona wanted my husband. But they also knew Sterling Vitale loved me almost to the point of obsession. I waited for him to explode and have her thrown out. But a few seconds later, the silence was broken by the scratch of his pen. "Deal." Ilona's red lips curled into a smile. "Excellent!" Then she raised her glass in a mocking toast to me. On the way back to the estate, I cried and begged Sterling to back out of the deal. He only frowned and wiped away my tears. "Ophelia, it's just a deal." Sterling took my hand and sighed. "Three years of priority shipping rights at the port. That's worth it." I let out a bitter laugh and didn't say anything else. That night, he had the lawyer bring the divorce papers to the study. I signed my name on the last page. Sterling collected the papers, looking pleased. Little did he know that by the time his month-long arrangement with Ilona was over, I'd be gone from this estate for good. ... Chapter 1 On the way back to the estate, I didn't say a word. It wasn't until the car passed the last checkpoint that I turned to look at Sterling. "You can still back out." Sterling was reading the contract he'd just signed. He looked up when he heard me. "Ophelia." "Ilona wants more than just a month." I clenched my hands into fists. "She wants you. Everyone can see it. If you give her this today, tomorrow she'll push for more." Sterling closed the file and reached over to wipe away my tears. "Her feelings for me are her problem. You know you're the one I love." I pulled away from his hand. "Then why did you agree?" "Three years of priority shipping rights at the port." His voice dropped. "It's just business. Nothing more." "So our marriage is only worth three years of port rights?" Sterling's brow furrowed. "Don't say it like that. After a month, everything goes back to normal." The car stopped in front of the estate. He got out first and held out his hand for me, like always. I looked at it and didn't take it. That night, the lawyer brought the papers to the study. Sterling had already signed them. When I picked up the pen, I still hesitated for a few seconds. He was standing by the window, his shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbows. When he saw I hadn't signed yet, he came over and gave my shoulder a squeeze. "At the end of the month, we'll have the ceremony all over again. Then I'll take you anywhere you want on vacation." I looked up at him. "Sterling, if you back out now, I'll pretend none of this ever happened." He went still, and the study was silent for a few seconds. At last, he said quietly, "Don't make me tear up a contract I just signed over a little thing like this." A little thing like this... I gave a short laugh and signed my name on the last page. Ilona's message arrived the very next afternoon. She reminded Sterling that since he'd agreed to be single for a month, he shouldn't bring his ex-wife to any of their families' public events during that time. There was a charity gala in three days, and my gown had already been delivered to the estate two weeks earlier. When Sterling read the message, his expression darkened. "She's overstepping." I stood in the closet doorway. "Then tell her no." He came over and reached for my hand. "The partnership's only just started. There's no need to fight with her on day one." I tucked my hands behind my back. Sterling stopped. "You're upset again?" "No." "Then don't make that face." His voice softened. "I told you, I'll make it up to you at the end of the month." I didn't say anything else. That night, I opened the bottom drawer in the study and took out my passport and the old pocket watch my parents had left me. Tucked inside the watch was the only photo of the three of us together. My parents died when I was 17, and several of my uncles took turns looking after me. In the end, it was Sterling who came for me. He was 19, and his family wasn't powerful yet. He promised my uncle he'd take good care of me and that one day I'd be the Donna. Only then did my uncle hand me over to him. Later, he became one of Sicily's most influential Mafia Dons, and he married me as he'd promised. But after that, he wouldn't let me anywhere near the businesses my father had left me. "You don't need to deal with any of that. You have me." At first, I still managed the winery and two companies. Later, I handed even those over. Sterling assigned me a driver and bodyguards, and wherever I went, someone would clear the place before I arrived. I used to think he was just keeping me safe. Now, as I tucked my passport into my bag, I realized I hadn't left Sicily on my own in years. My phone lit up with a text from Orlando Galli. It read, "Have you decided? About Quebec." I thought about it for a moment, then texted back, "I'm going. Could you book me a one-way ticket?" I didn't book it myself because I didn't want Sterling to find out where I was going so easily. The next evening, Ilona came to the estate herself. She and Sterling were downstairs discussing the gala. As I passed the stairs, I heard her ask with a laugh, "It's a celebration of our families' partnership. Surely you wouldn't mind me sitting next to you?" Sterling didn't answer, and I stopped where I was. For all these years, that seat had been mine. After a few seconds, he shrugged. "Of course." Ilona smiled. Then she spotted me and pretended to be surprised. "Oh, you're here too?" As if I were the outsider who didn't belong. I gave her a cold look and started to walk away, but she stopped me. "Why are you still wearing that ring? You're not the Donna anymore. Know your place." Her words made my blood boil. But the next second, a familiar, gentle hand took mine. "Be good, sweetheart." Before he'd even finished speaking, he'd slipped the ring off my finger and into his palm. I looked at the man in front of me, my eyes burning. Then I yanked my hand away and went back to my room. Much later, Sterling came in. He spotted the open suitcase right away and frowned. "Why are you packing so much?" I looked down and put my documents inside. "I'm going to stay somewhere else for a while." Sterling came over and took a heavy coat out of the suitcase. "It's only a month. Don't go too far." He hung the coat back up in the closet, then pulled me tight against him, his stubble rough against my neck. "As for the ring... I'll get you an even rarer diamond when the month's over." Chapter 2 The next afternoon, I got a text from Sterling. It read, "The original port contract is still in the study. Bring it to the club tonight." A few minutes later, another text came in. "We can have dinner while you're here." After a little thought, I brought him the contract anyway. The moment I opened the door to the private room, I knew I shouldn't have come. Almost everyone involved in the port deal from both families was there. The table was crowded with open bottles of champagne, and a cake celebrating the signing stood against the wall. Ilona was sitting next to Sterling. When she saw me, she smiled and waved a phone at me. She'd sent those texts from Sterling's phone. Sterling had obviously figured that out too, and his face darkened. "Ophelia..." I set the contract on the table, stone-faced. "Here it is." Then I turned to go. "Wait." Ilona signaled for someone to wheel in an easel she'd prepared. "I hear you used to study oil painting." She stood up and moved to Sterling's side. "Today's a special occasion. Why don't you paint a portrait of us?" I looked at her coldly. "I can't." "Sterling told me you'd won a prize before." She smiled and slipped her arm through his. "And you know him so well. You must know exactly how to paint him." I looked at Sterling. He wasn't touching Ilona, but he didn't pull away either. When I didn't move, she glanced around at everyone in the room. "Our families just signed the deal. You can't even do us this one little favor?" Sterling frowned for a few seconds. Finally, he looked at me. "Just paint a quick portrait." I let out a bitter laugh, but eventually took a seat at the easel. Looking pleased with herself, Ilona leaned closer to Sterling, tilting her head toward his shoulder. "Make us look a little more intimate." I pressed my brush hard against the canvas. Sterling finally spoke, his voice cold. "Sit up straight." Only then did Ilona pout and move back a little. But before long, she pressed up against him again, and this time Sterling didn't stop her. When the painting was done, I put down the brush. I hadn't eaten all day, and I stood up too fast. For a second, everything went black. Sterling caught me at once. "You skipped meals again?" With one arm around my waist, he was already holding a glass of water in his other hand. He told someone to get the stomach medicine I always took. Ilona gave a soft laugh beside him. "Sterling, you're a single man right now." He stopped. "She's not feeling well." "There are so many people here." Ilona raised an eyebrow. "It doesn't have to be you looking after her, does it?" Sterling's expression hardened, but he still handed the medicine off to a waiter. I took the water and stood up straight on my own. "I'm going home." "What's the rush?" Ilona tapped the table. A waiter quickly brought over a silver tray. She took off her diamond bracelet and tossed it in. "Let's make this celebration more interesting. Everyone puts one personal item on the tray, and whoever gets picked takes everything." I turned to leave, but Ilona called after me. "Ophelia, you're not playing?" "No." Sterling said quietly, "Just put in one thing." I turned to look at him. "Why should I play her games?" "We only closed the deal today." His voice softened. "Don't make a scene." Ilona was already standing in front of me, her eyes on the pocket watch hanging around my neck. "How about that, then?" I covered the watch with my hand at once. "No." "Why not?" "My mother left me this." I took off my diamond wristwatch. "Take this instead." But Ilona didn't take it. "Everyone else follows the rules. Why do you get to swap yours out?" Sterling finally spoke. "Ilona, pick something else." Her smile faded. "Sterling, I already gave you three years of priority at the port. And at our first celebration, you want me to change the rules for your ex-wife?" The room went quiet. I looked at Sterling. After a moment of silence, he actually held out his hand to me. "Ophelia." My heart slowly sank. "Just put it in for now. When this is over, I'll get it back for you." "It's all I have left of her." Sterling frowned. "It's only for now." Ilona reached for the watch. I stepped back, but she caught the chain and gave it a sharp yank. The clasp snapped, sending the watch straight into a wine glass on the edge of the table. It tipped over, and dark red wine splashed everywhere. The watch case popped open, and the old photo inside slid out. In seconds, it was soaked with wine. I watched helplessly as the wine blurred my mother's face in the photograph. My ears rang. Alarm flashed across Sterling's face. He reached for the photo, but I snatched it up first and shouted at him through my tears, "Get away from me!" His hand froze in midair. Clutching the soaked photo and pocket watch, I stormed past him and out of the room. Chapter 3 Sterling didn't come after me. As I walked out, I heard someone kick over a chair behind me. It hit the floor with a crash. Phil Caruso, Sterling's right-hand man, spoke up quietly. "Don, should someone go check on the Donna?" "Let her go." Sterling's voice was so cold it was frightening. Even Ilona didn't dare say anything for a moment. Someone hesitated, then spoke. "But this time, the Donna looked..." "Where else could she go?" Sterling cut him off. "She's barely traveled outside Sicily alone in years. Give her a few days to cool off. She'll come back on her own." I stood around the corner in the hallway, my fingers tightening around the soaked watch. I heard every word. If you're so sure I'll come back, then I won't. Back at the estate, I got a towel and carefully laid the photo flat on the table. The wine had soaked through the photo paper, blurring my mother's once-clear face. I dabbed it twice with a cotton swab, but the colors spread even farther. I didn't dare touch it again. My hand froze in midair. Without warning, tears spilled down my cheeks and splashed onto the table. I hadn't missed my mom and dad this much in years. If they were still alive and saw what my life had become, would they scold me? Or would they ask no questions and just tell me to come home, the way they did when I was little? I stared at my mother's blurred face in the photo, fighting back another wave of tears. After a while, I closed the pocket watch, clutched it in my palm, and took a cab to the cemetery alone. It was on the outskirts of the city. I sat against the headstone and laid the photo, now too blurred to make out, on my knees. The wind was cold, but I didn't move. I just sat there, staring at what was left of my mother's face. I don't know how long I sat there before my phone rang. It was Orlando. I answered. "Ophelia?" His voice was urgent. "Where are you?" "The cemetery." He paused. "At your parents' graves?" "Yes." "Why weren't you on your flight?" I froze. "What?" "Your flight was today." Orlando's voice turned serious. "The plane took off almost an hour ago." Only then did I check the time. I hadn't realized how late it was. I was silent for a few seconds. "I... forgot." The line went quiet. When he spoke again, he seemed to sense something. "Are you... okay?" Before I could answer, he said in a low voice, "Stay there and wait for me." "Orlando, you don't have to." "Don't move." A little over 40 minutes later, a car pulled up outside the cemetery, headlights on. Orlando came up alone. His eyes went to my bare neck, then to the watch in my hand, and his expression darkened. But he didn't ask anything. He just took off his coat and draped it over my shoulders. "Get up." "Where are we going?" "The airport." I looked up. "But I've already missed my flight." "Then we'll take my private jet." Orlando held out his hand to me. "If you don't want to go alone, I'll go with you." I looked at his hand for a long time before I took it. He was quiet on the way to the airport. The lights outside the car window flashed past one by one, and suddenly my thoughts drifted back many years. Back then, Orlando wasn't even 20. After his father died, his relatives seized the family businesses that should have been his. He was driven out of Sicily and couldn't even afford tuition. At the time, I was still running the winery my father had left me. When I found out, I asked my lawyer to help settle some of his debts and covered his tuition in Canada. After that, he'd send me a message every so often. He told me when he got into college, when he won his first award, and when he and a friend landed their first business deal. I watched him get back on his feet little by little. Once he didn't need my help anymore, we slowly lost touch. Then, six months ago, he came back to Sicily as the head of a machinery company in Quebec. That day he'd come to talk business with Sterling, and I happened to be bringing over some papers. There was trouble at the North Port, and Sterling was in a terrible mood. I'd barely set the papers on the desk when he said without looking up, "Not now. Out." His elbow knocked the folder off the desk, scattering papers across the floor. Before I could bend down to pick them up, Orlando was already doing it. When he looked up and saw me, he froze. "Ophelia?" We hadn't seen each other in years, and he was no longer the boy who'd needed my help. Now, once his private jet was in the air, he handed me a blanket. "Get some sleep. I'll wake you when we get to Quebec."