Please Divorce Me, Alpha! {BL}

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During my eleven months as Lorenzo Castelli’s temporary husband, I picked up a few more things.

For one, a mafia estate doesn’t really sleep.

There’s always someone wandering the halls at 2 AM, someone on guard outside a door, or someone discreetly talking into an earpiece, pretending they aren’t eavesdropping on a conversation just a few feet away.

I also learned that Frederick Castelli had become the closest thing I ever had to a father or a grandfather.

That’s why losing him hurt more than I cared to admit.

The weeks following our nearly normal dinner shifted everything without really changing much at all. Frederick’s health began to decline rapidly.

I noticed the little things first, since I was used to seeing him every few days.

He got tired more easily. Our walks by the lake grew shorter until he finally stopped pretending he could manage them.

His wheelchair became a constant fixture by his favorite window, and the nurses started showing up more often.

The estate transformed alongside him. Conversations quieted down, doors started to close more softly, staff moved through the corridors with a careful silence, clearly aware something significant was taking place behind those walls.

Even Lorenzo changed, though not in a dramatic way.

He wasn’t the type to make big gestures unless he wanted everyone to take notice. He just became quieter, there were nights when I’d spot him walking down the hallway in the dead of night, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, and there was this exhausted look on his face that vanished the second he realized I was watching.

We never discussed it, that was just how our marriage functioned...we were surprisingly good at skirting around certain topics.

Then came the morning Frederick slipped into a coma. I remember standing outside his room, hand resting against the doorframe while one of the doctors spoke softly to Lorenzo.

The rain was tapping against the massive windows, and Lorenzo stood motionless, almost statue-like.

Mateo lingered further down the hallway, unusually quiet, his usual grin nowhere to be seen.

I had never seen him like that before.

Even the household felt tense, as if holding its breath.

I’ve never been good at dealing with grief.

My father taught me that emotions were weaknesses, and Lydia made it clear that showing sadness was uncomfortable for everyone...unless it was Blair’s sadness, then it was completely okay!

So I did what I always do: made a joke in my head.

Great, someone finally figured out how to make a mafia household even more depressing.

Not really funny, I knew that, but still, it was the thought that came.

In the days that followed, I visited Frederick anyway. The doctors said he probably couldn’t hear me, but I sat by his bed talking about trivial things because silence felt worse.

I mentioned the ridiculous number of flowers someone had ordered for the estate, griped about the chef, and told him Mateo had swiped one of my books and was denying it, even though he had left it on his own sofa.

I even vented about how irritating Lorenzo had been that week, talking about that made me feel a bit better.

"You know," I said one afternoon, gazing at Frederick’s still face, "your son is terrifying. I think you should apologize for that."

Of course, there was no response. I swallowed hard.

"And if you wake up, I’ll tell you about the time he nearly scared me into walking into a wall." My voice dropped. "You’d like that story."

The machines kept their steady rhythm. I glanced down at my hands, and for the first time in years, I wished someone would reply to me.

Frederick never did, infact... he passed away two days later.

The funeral as you already know...took place under a sky that looked like wet ash. Black umbrellas dotted the grounds while rain blurred the gardens beneath the cloudy sky.

People arrived in fancy cars, all dressed in black, sporting expressions of solemn respect that I suspected varied greatly depending on how much they anticipated inheriting.

I stood next to Lorenzo for most of it, his hand wrapped around mine since cameras were everywhere. We didn’t say a word.

But when the priest began speaking, I felt Lorenzo’s fingers tighten around mine just a little. It was such a small gesture that I almost missed it.

I was supposed to be happy.

Have my very own happily ever after after Frederick’s death.

I mean that was the whole fucking idea right?

Frederick was gone, the conditions of the marriage contract had been fulfilled.

Soon, Lorenzo would hand me my sweet seventy million dollars, we’d sign the divorce papers, and I would finally be free.

That was... until the night Lorenzo tore up the divorce papers.

What...the... fuck...?

I stared at the scraps of paper scattered across the desk.

For a few seconds, I honestly couldn’t wrap my head around what I was seeing.

It felt like my brain had just taken a vacation.

I’d spent months imagining this moment. I’d pictured signing those papers, breakdancing out of the Castelli estate, grabbing the money that would change my shitty life, and never looking back.

But instead, Lorenzo took the papers from my hand and ripped them right down the middle.

Then he did it again. And again. Now the remnants lay across his desk like some sort of twisted confetti.

I looked at him. He looked back at me. I waited for him to explain.

"Why would you do that?!"

Lorenzo stayed calm, almost amused, stepping closer with that same measured control he applied to everything else.

Before I could back away, he closed the distance and kissed me with a sudden, deep hunger, like a man who’d been holding back for our entire temporary marriage.

My... first kiss... This fucker was stealing my first kiss!

I froze for what felt like a heartbeat that dragged on forever.

This had be a joke!

Maybe he...he was just playing a cruel prank!

The unexpected pressure of his mouth against mine jumbled my carefully maintained distance.

And then I shoved him away hard enough to create space and slapped him across the face with enough force that it cracked through the stillness of the study.

I stared at my own hand.

Lorenzo turned his face slowly back to me, a faint red mark appearing on his cheek.

He touched it, then looked at me, and to my utter shock, he smiled.

"Have you lost your damn mind? What the hell are you doing?!" I yelled, disbelief mingling with rising panic in my words as I wiped at my lips. "This wasn’t part of the deal! None of this was part of the deal!"

‎

‎Lorenzo merely smirked, unfazed by the slap, and reached up to graze his thumb along my lower lip with a touch that felt far too intimate.

It almost seemed like he wasn’t even listening to my screaming, rather he was more interested in the look and feel of my swollen lips.

‎

His emerald eyes met mine with an annoying calmness. "Seems like I’ve changed my mind."

I stared at him in disbelief. "You changed... your mind?"

"Yes."

Was he high on something?!

I laughed once to stave off the urge to scream. "You can’t just change your mind."

"I already did."

"That’s not how agreements work!"

A hint of a smile curved his lips. "Apparently it is tonight."

Oh, this better be a motherfucking prank!

I felt my temper flare up so quickly that the room seemed to shrink. "You promised me!"

"I remember."

"Then give me my divorce!"

"No, caro." He replied casually. Lorenzo leaned back in the wall. For some reason, that calm demeanor made me even madder than if he had started yelling. "You really want to leave, don’t you?"

"Yes!" I answered too quickly.

His expression changed just a bit, and I caught it. "I see."

"Don’t do that."

"Do what?"

"Look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you’re trying to figure out whether I’m lying."

A dark smile crossed his face. "And are you?"

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

The truth was complicated, I wanted my freedom. I wanted my money....I wanted a life where I could choose my own path.

But somehow, this massive, intimidating household had started to feel familiar. Frederick had become important to me.

The staff were no longer just faces; they were familiar, with Leon. Even Lorenzo...no, absolutely not.

I refused to finish that stupid ass thought!

"I want the divorce," I said more firmly this time.

‎"Why the rush to divorce, caro?" he asked, his low voice carrying more weight than it should have. "We were doing just fine together, weren’t we?"

‎

‎I brushed his hand away, the sharp edge I depended on rising to the surface as my pulse raced.

‎

‎"You and I both know it was all an act! Keep your promise," I insisted. "You said temporary. You said I could leave when the time was up. So keep your promise, give me my money and let me go."

‎

‎He chuckled low, the sound dark and oddly affectionate.

‎

‎"No, my love. Change of plans. You’re not going anywhere. You are mine now. My Omega...I married you after all, didn’t I?"

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