I used to call him that as a joke, a teasing nickname when we were alone. Back then, it had been playful, intimate, filled with something unspoken between us.
Now, it felt completely different.
Cold.
Distant.
Like a wall had been built between us, brick by brick, until there was nothing left to cross.
He frowned slightly. He noticed it.
Of course he did.
Just as he was about to say something else, the door opened again and the doctor walked in for a routine check.
In an instant, Salvatore changed.
The softness disappeared as if it had never existed. His posture straightened, his expression cooled, and the distance returned. He was once again the Don, untouchable and controlled. The silver lighter went still in his hand for one beat, then slipped into his jacket pocket.
After exchanging a few brief words with the doctor, he turned to leave.
At the door, he paused.
Then he looked back at me one last time.
"Get some rest," he said.
There was a slight pause before he added, his tone firm, almost like a warning.
"And don't think your… special arrangement gives you any privileges inside my Family."
His eyes held mine, steady and unreadable.
"Everyone is treated equally. Everything follows the code."
With that, he walked out, the door closing softly behind him, leaving the room colder than before.
The doctor glanced at the smile I was forcing onto my face and let out a light, teasing chuckle, like he could see straight through it.
"Your boss already left," he said casually. "No need to push yourself to keep smiling like that anymore."
I didn't respond.
"But I'll give him this," he added with a grin, flipping through my chart. "Stubborn mouth, soft heart. He already took care of all your medical bills."
My smile didn't disappear, but it shifted—subtly, almost imperceptibly—into something bitter.
Salvatore really did deserve an award for his performance.
To everyone else, he was just a responsible boss at the front office, someone who took care of his people out of basic decency. A man with principles. No one knew the truth. No one knew that behind the locked door of his private study at the compound, I had been in a relationship with him for five years. Five entire years of secrecy, of compromise, of waiting.
No one except a handful of his closest men. His inner circle. The ones bound by the same silence that bound me.