The Real Bride is Back, So I asked for Divorce

“Breakfast is ready,” Alessia called, her voice steady as Nicholas shuffled into the kitchen. He barely glanced at her, sliding into his chair with his phone in hand. Alessia set the bowl of steaming congee and pickled vegetables in front of him, careful to keep her expression neutral. Nicholas frowned, pushing the bowl away with one finger. “What is this?” “Breakfast,” Alessia replied evenly, placing a cup of tea beside his plate. “This isn’t breakfast,” he snapped, his tone sharp. “Where are the eggs? The bacon? I’m not eating this.” She met his gaze briefly, then turned back to the counter to pour herself a cup of tea. “I thought I’d try something different today.” “Well, don’t,” he barked, standing abruptly. “You’re useless sometimes, you know that? I’ll just grab something on the way to work.” Alessia stayed silent as the door slammed shut behind him. She sipped her tea, the bitterness of the drink mirroring the ache in her chest. This had become their routine. Alessia had begun distancing herself days ago, mentally preparing for what she knew was inevitable. She stopped trying to please him, subtly changing her routines to reflect her decision to leave. She no longer tailored every meal to his tastes, no longer asked him about his day, and no longer cared if he noticed her silence. He didn’t. Later that day, Alessia lay curled up on the couch, scrolling through her phone. She’d muted Ava’s account long ago, but Instagram’s algorithm had other plans. There it was—Ava’s post. The caption read: “Home-cooked meal for my love. Can’t wait for many more days like this!” The photo showed a spread of perfectly plated dishes, and beside them, Nicholas smiled broadly, raising a glass in Ava’s direction. He looked happy—truly happy. Alessia stared at the image, her chest tightening. He had never smiled like that for her. Not in five years. She’d given up everything—her art, her freedom, her dreams—only to be treated as a placeholder. Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them away. The pain that had simmered for years boiled over into resolve. Enough was enough. The faint sound of the front door opening pulled Alessia from her thoughts. Nicholas had finally returned home. She heard the familiar shuffle of his shoes being kicked off, followed by the low murmur of his voice—likely speaking to Ava again. She didn’t rise to greet him. There was no point anymore. Instead, she sat at the dinner table, staring at the meal she had prepared. It wasn’t elaborate, just a simple pasta with roasted vegetables and garlic bread, but it was enough. This was her last dinner for Nicholas, and she hadn’t wasted any unnecessary effort on it. Nicholas walked into the dining room, his phone in hand, a small smile on his lips. He didn’t look at her as he sat down, his thumb still moving across the screen. “What’s for dinner?” he asked absently, his attention fixed on his phone. Alessia hesitated for a moment, watching him. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d had a real conversation. It had all blurred together—weeks of silence, cold exchanges, and the ever-present third person in their marriage: Ava. It hadn’t always been this way, she thought. When she first married Nicholas five years ago, there had been a shred of hope. Not love, but the possibility of something resembling it. For a time, Alessia believed she could mend him. She threw herself into being the perfect wife—learning his preferences, cooking his favorite meals, always being there when he needed her. But it hadn’t mattered. Ava’s shadow loomed over everything, and when she came back, it was as if Alessia had never existed. Nicholas chuckled softly at something on his phone, his smile brighter than she had seen in years. Alessia’s chest tightened, but she didn’t let it show. This was her moment. “Nicholas,” she said, her voice firm but quiet. “Hmm?” He didn’t look up, his eyes glued to the screen. “I need you to sign something.” That got his attention, but only briefly. He flicked a glance at her, his brows knitting together. “What is it?” “Paperwork,” she said, sliding the folder across the table. “It’s for the banquet.” Nicholas reached for it without hesitation, picking up the pen she had placed beside it. He didn’t bother to open the folder or glance at the contents. Instead, he scrawled his signature on the first page, then the second, his focus still divided as his phone buzzed with another message. “There,” he said, sliding it back to her. “Anything else?” Alessia stared at the signed pages, her heart pounding in her chest. It was done. After five years of being a placeholder in his life, she was finally free. “No,” she said softly, standing and taking the folder with her. “Good,” he muttered, already typing another reply. A small, amused smile played on his lips—undoubtedly something Ava had said. Alessia turned to leave the room, her footsteps slow. She paused at the doorway, glancing back at him. He didn’t notice her lingering, his entire world reduced to the glowing screen in his hands. For a moment, she considered saying something—anything to make him look at her, to force him to acknowledge her presence. But what was the point? She’d spent five years trying, and he’d chosen Ava every time. “Goodbye, Nicholas,” she said instead, her voice steady. “Mm-hmm,” he replied without looking up and truly understanding what she just said.

Alessia adjusted the silk tablecloth on the long dining table, her hands moving automatically as her mind drifted. The mafia banquet was days away, and the pressure of planning the event had been weighing on her shoulders. As Nicholas’ wife, these responsibilities had always fallen to her. It was another role she had taken on without complaint, another way to prove herself to a man who barely noticed her efforts. The decision to leave had already been made, but Alessia wanted to finish this last task. She would fulfill her duties one final time, ensuring the event went smoothly before disappearing from Nicholas’ world. When she arrived at the venue that afternoon, Alessia’s heart stopped. Standing in the middle of the grand ballroom was Ava, clipboard in hand, barking out instructions to the staff. Alessia froze, watching as Ava pointed to the floral arrangements Alessia had chosen. “These won’t do. We need white roses, not lilies,” Ava said firmly, her tone carrying the authority of someone who belonged there. Alessia forced herself to step forward, clearing her throat. Ava turned, her face lighting up with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Alessia! Nicholas told me you’d be here. Isn’t this venue stunning? He asked me to take care of everything for the banquet,” Ava said sweetly, her words slicing through Alessia like a blade. Nicholas asked her? Alessia’s mind raced. She tried to maintain her composure, swallowing the sharp sting of humiliation. “I see,” Alessia said quietly. She glanced around the room, noticing how seamlessly Ava had taken over. The staff, who had once looked to Alessia for direction, now stood attentive to Ava’s commands. Ava leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Nicholas thought it would be less stressful for you if I handled it. You’ve been so busy lately, and he just wants to make sure you’re not overwhelmed.” The words felt like a punch to the gut. Alessia nodded stiffly, refusing to let Ava see how deeply this cut her. “Of course,” she said, her voice steady despite the tremble in her chest. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you to it.” Without waiting for a response, Alessia turned on her heel and walked out of the venue, her head held high even as her vision blurred with unshed tears. By the time she reached her car, her hands were trembling. She gripped the steering wheel tightly, letting out a shaky breath. The message was clear: she no longer had a place in Nicholas’ life, not even in the small, hollow space she had carved out for herself. When Alessia arrived home later that evening, her resolve to leave was stronger than ever. She was ready to let go of this life—of Nicholas, of the mafia, of everything that had tethered her to a man who couldn’t even see her. As she stepped inside, the sight of suitcases by the door made her pause. Nicholas appeared from the living room, his phone in hand. “Good, you’re back,” he said casually, as if the suitcases weren’t a shocking sight. “Ava’s moving in temporarily. Her house needs renovations, and it’s safer for her to stay here with the recent tensions.” Alessia’s breath hitched. Her heart pounded in her chest. “She’s moving in?” she asked, her voice eerily calm. Nicholas frowned at her reaction, his tone growing defensive. “It’s not a big deal, Alessia. She’ll only be here for a few weeks.” For a moment, Alessia considered shouting, demanding answers, or making him choose between them. But what was the point? Nicholas had already made his choice. Instead, she turned away, heading for the staircase. “Do whatever you want,” she said flatly. Her indifference seemed to set Nicholas off. “What’s your problem?” he snapped, following her. “You’ve been acting strange for weeks. If something’s wrong, just say it.” Alessia stopped halfway up the stairs and looked at him over her shoulder. Her eyes were tired, but her voice remained calm. “I’m just tired, Nicholas. That’s all.” Before he could press further, a soft voice interrupted. “Maybe I should go,” Ava said, stepping into the hallway with an innocent expression that Alessia knew was anything but. “I don’t want to cause any trouble.” Alessia’s lips curled into a small, bitter smile. “No, it’s fine,” she said, her voice laced with feigned warmth. “Stay as long as you want, Ava. You’re obviously welcome here.” Ava hesitated, her wide-eyed gaze darting between Alessia and Nicholas. “Are you sure? I don’t want to overstep.” Alessia nodded. “You’re already here. Make yourself comfortable.” With that, Alessia turned and ascended the stairs, leaving Nicholas and Ava behind. As she reached her bedroom, she shut the door and leaned against it, her heart pounding in her chest.

Alessia was stretched out on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, trying to find a moment’s peace. The house was unusually quiet, and she was almost starting to enjoy it when the door suddenly flew open. Nicholas stormed in like he owned the place—which, technically, he did, with Ava trailing behind him. Ava looked around the room like she was evaluating a hotel suite. Alessia shot upright, her brows furrowing. “What the hell, Nicholas?” she asked, still caught off guard. Nicholas didn’t even blink. “Ava’s taking this room. You’ll move to the guest room.” Alessia stared at him, wondering if she’d heard him wrong. “Come again?” “You heard me,” Nicholas said, like it was no big deal. “Ava needs a comfortable space, and this is the best room in the house. So pack up your stuff and move.” For a second, Alessia just sat there, trying to process the absurdity of what he was saying. “This is my room.” “And it’s just a room,” he shot back, his tone dripping with impatience. “You’ll be fine in the guest room for now. Don’t make this into a thing.” Before Alessia could say anything, Ava chimed in, her voice all soft and fake-sweet. “Nicholas, I don’t want to cause any trouble. I can take another room—it’s really fine.” “No,” Nicholas said firmly, not even glancing at her. His focus stayed on Alessia. “You need the best. You’re staying here.” Alessia looked between the two of them, her chest tightening. But instead of snapping or fighting, she just nodded, keeping her face blank. “Fine. I’ll move.” Without another word, she got up and left, walking past them like they weren’t even there. She didn’t trust herself to say anything else. The guest room was small, cramped, and lifeless. Alessia sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the blank walls. It felt weird, like she didn’t belong in her own house anymore. Maybe she never had. Her fingers brushed over the edge of the pillowcase, her mind racing. She thought about all the little things she’d done over the years to make this house feel like a home—the curtains she’d picked out, the photos she’d hung, the furniture she’d arranged. It didn’t matter now. Nicholas had made it clear that none of it was hers. And when she thought that’s all it was she had to do for Nicholas’ lovely Ava, Nicholas barged inside the room again. “Cook something for Ava,” he barked, his tone leaving no room for debate. Alessia didn’t even look up. “I’m tired, Nicholas,” she said evenly. “And in case you forgot, my hand’s injured.” He scoffed. “It’s just your hand, Alessia. You can manage.” She ignored him. She wasn’t going to budge on this. Before Nicholas could escalate the situation, Ava walked in, her voice dripping with forced kindness. “It’s fine, Nicholas. We can just eat out tonight,” she said with a disarming smile. Turning to Alessia, she added, “You should join us. We haven’t really had a chance to get to know each other.” Alessia raised a brow, but Nicholas jumped at the suggestion before she could decline. “Perfect. Get ready, Alessia,” he said sharply, as if it were an order. The restaurant Ava chose served Asian food, something Alessia knew Nicholas hated. Over the years, he’d made it very clear how much he despised it every time she had dared to make it at home. But tonight, he didn’t complain. Not a word. Instead, he smiled and listened attentively as Ava gushed about her favorite dishes, his eyes lighting up in a way Alessia hadn’t seen in years. Alessia sat quietly, picking at her food. The aroma of the food, the warm chatter, and the clinking of utensils blurred into a dull hum in her mind. Across the table, Ava and Nicholas laughed over shared memories, their voices too loud and too familiar. Alessia could barely hear herself think. At one point, Ava glanced over at Alessia, her tone all sugary sweetness. “I hope we’re not making you feel left out. It’s just… you weren’t around back then.” Alessia managed a polite smile. “Don’t worry about it.” But she did worry. Every word stung. She focused on her food, chewing as her thoughts wandered. She thought about the years she’d spent with Nicholas—the way she’d supported him through his mafia dealings, endured his coldness, and still fought to keep their relationship afloat. And now, here she was, playing third wheel while he doted on someone else. Someone who had walked back into his life and easily taken over. She sighed softly, reminding herself this was temporary. Just a little longer, and she’d be gone. Just as they were finishing their meal, a gunshot cracked through the air, loud enough to silence the restaurant. Chaos erupted immediately—people screamed, chairs toppled, and Nicholas’ men burst in, guns drawn. “Ambush!” one of them shouted. “Stay down!” Alessia ducked instinctively, her heart pounding. She turned to Nicholas, expecting him to grab her, protect her—anything. But he wasn’t looking at her. “Stay close to me!” Nicholas yelled, grabbing Ava’s hand. Without hesitation, he pulled her up, shielding her as they made a break for the exit, his men surrounding them. “Nicholas!” Alessia called out, her voice lost in the chaos. Before she could follow, a sharp, searing pain shot through her arm. She gasped, clutching the wound as blood soaked her sleeve. She dropped to the floor, dazed, her vision blurring from the sudden pain. Nicholas didn’t even glance back. He was too busy making sure Ava was safe, his focus entirely on her. Alessia gritted her teeth, struggling to stay conscious. The gunfire around her felt distant now, drowned out by the rush of her own heartbeat. She tried to crawl for cover, but her strength was fading fast. And as she lay there, bleeding and alone, one thought consumed her: If I survive this, I’m done. Her world tilted as her vision darkened.

Alessia woke up in the hospital, groggy and disoriented. Her first thought was Nicholas. She asked the doctor, “Where’s my husband?” hoping he’d been waiting for her. The doctor gave her a sympathetic look. “No one has come by, aside from a few bodyguards. I’m sorry.” That was when it hit her—she was alone, as always. Nicholas wasn’t coming, and she wasn’t about to waste any more energy waiting for someone who never showed up. She’d given him enough chances. By the time she was discharged, Alessia knew exactly what she needed to do: leave. She didn’t go home. What was the point? The house wasn’t hers anymore, not really. Nicholas hadn’t checked on her, hadn’t even called. Instead, she booked a quiet room at a hotel, packed light, and waited for her flight. It was freeing, in a bittersweet way. Before leaving, she made one last call—to Nicholas’ mother. “Thank you for everything,” Alessia said softly, her voice steady despite the emotions bubbling beneath. “You’ve been the only one who’s ever truly cared for me.” Nicholas’ mother sounded heartbroken. “Alessia, I’m really sorry. I should have known but thank you for keeping up with those five years.” “Please, promise me one thing,” she interrupted gently. “Don’t tell Nicholas where I’m going. Let me go in peace.” “I will not,” she replied. “Be sure to take care of yourself, Alessia. Good luck.” --- Alessia sat at the terminal, her fingers lightly tapping the armrest of the chair. The airport buzzed with the usual noise—announcements over the intercom, the shuffle of passengers, rolling suitcases on polished floors—but all she felt was a hollow stillness. Her boarding pass rested in her lap, the edges crumpled from her nervous grip. She glanced at the large windows overlooking the runway, watching planes take off one by one. Each one felt like freedom, carrying her closer to a life away from Nicholas, away from disappointment. She inhaled deeply, her chest tightening as she fought the urge to cry. Her phone buzzed in her bag. Alessia frowned, pulling it out. The name flashing on the screen made her stomach twist. Nicholas. For a moment, she debated letting it ring. What could he possibly want now? But curiosity—or maybe masochism—got the better of her. She swiped to answer. “Alessia,” Nicholas’ deep voice came through. “Is the banquet later all set?” Her heart sank. Of course. No concern for her well-being, no questions about where she was or if she was okay after the hospital. Just business. She forced a bitter laugh, the sound cutting through the air like a blade. “Why don’t you ask Ava?” There was a pause on the line. Nicholas sounded caught off guard. “What are you talking about? I just need—” “Don’t bother me again, Nicholas.” Her voice was cold. Before he could respond, she ended the call. Back at the estate, chaos ruled under a thin veneer of elegance. Servers darted around, finalizing details for the evening banquet, while Ava stood in the center of it all, barking orders like she owned the place. Her smirk gave her away, though. She’d intentionally skipped a few details Alessia had planned, subtle enough to sabotage but not enough to draw suspicion. If anything went wrong, Alessia would take the fall, even in her absence. Nicholas stormed in, his sharp gaze sweeping the room. “Where’s Alessia?” Ava didn’t even flinch, feigning a look of mild confusion. “I have no idea. Maybe she’s busy with other details?” His jaw clenched as he turned to one of his men. “Find her. Now.” The man nodded and disappeared. Nicholas faced Ava again. “Make sure everything is perfect tonight. I don’t want excuses.” Ava tilted her head. “Of course, but Alessia was in charge of some things. If something’s missing, it’s probably not my fault.” Nicholas’ glare was ice-cold. Without another word, he walked off, pulling out his phone. His thumb hovered over Alessia’s number before he pressed it, listening to the dial tone with growing impatience. No answer. Again. He cursed under his breath. Later that night, the grand mafia banquet was in full swing. Guests milled around in glittering outfits, sipping champagne. Nicholas, seated at the head of the table, swirled his glass of wine and took a sip. His brows furrowed immediately. "What is this?" A waiter nervously stepped forward. "It’s the wine we were instructed to serve, sir." Nicholas set the glass down with a thud. "Where’s the Conti 1945?" The waiter stammered. "We... we were told not to include it. Madam Alessia gave the instructions." Nicholas’ jaw tightened, his patience fraying. "Alessia?" He scanned the room, his sharp gaze searching for her. A cold realization crept over him—he hadn’t seen her all evening. Standing abruptly, he barked at his men. "Find Alessia. Now." The command sent his men scattering through the estate, combing every corner of the venue and its surroundings. But when they returned, each shook their head. "No one’s seen her, boss," one of them reported. Nicholas’ irritation turned to unease. He pulled out his phone, dialing her number. No answer. Again. The emptiness gnawed at him. Moments later, his phone buzzed. It was his underboss, Eliseo. "Boss, I have news,” the voice informed him. “Where is she? Did you find her?” he asked, impatient. “Alessia has a scheduled flight tonight.” “A flight, to where?” He raised his brow. “And when is she coming back?” “I don’t think she’s coming back, boss. It’s a one-way ticket."