The Wife He Waited Ten Years ForChapter 1

Salvatore Bellomo had two front-row concert tickets tucked neatly into the breast pocket of his tailored suit. I thought he had planned a surprise for me. I was giddy with anticipation, counting down the days until the concert. But when the day finally came, I found out he had taken those tickets and gone on Family business instead.

With the help of a few connections and a ridiculous amount of money, I managed to get a ticket last minute. And that's when I saw it.

Onstage, under the dazzling lights and booming music, he was kissing another girl—deeply, passionately, like they were in the middle of their own love story. Their kiss was so emotional, so raw, that the camera crew caught it and broadcasted it on the giant screen for thousands of people to see.

After the concert, I stumbled across the girl's social media post.

Sharing a kiss with the love of my life at our idol's concert… Best birthday gift ever.

The comment section was filled with blessings and heart emojis.

Wishing you 99! they said, wishing them a love that would last a hundred years.

Meanwhile, I got hit by a car. His car. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed in a private clinic on the Family's payroll, the kind of place where no one asks questions and the hallways smell of disinfectant and silence. Salvatore was sitting beside me, scrolling through his phone, a soft smile playing on his lips. A smile I had never seen him wear when he was with me.

I asked, "Who is she?"

Without even lifting his eyes, he replied coldly, "I'm your boss. Now that you're awake, just focus on recovering."

Then he walked away. No hesitation, no guilt. I turned my head away from the door and dialed my uncle's number.

"Hart, about that alliance marriage you mentioned… I'll do it. I'll marry him."

——

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, so long that I almost thought the call had dropped. Then came a quiet exhale, followed by an unmistakable sigh of relief.

"Elena, finally," the voice said, a mix of concern and satisfaction threading through the words. I could picture him in his study, the ember of his cigar glowing as he tapped ash with his thumbnail. Three precise strokes, never two, never four. "That man kept you hidden in the dark for five whole years. Five years. A man like that doesn't even deserve to see the light of day."

I didn't respond right away.