I unknowingly stole the mafia don's daughter

UNCONCERNED

Vera's POV

“I was thinking,” I said while clutching the phone in my hand tighter, “maybe I could plan something for our anniversary this year. Something simple… but special.”

On the other end of the line, my mother made a disinterested snort. “What’s wrong with just making a meal at home?”

“I want to do more,” i said insisting. “Maybe book a hotel dinner, dress up. It’s been tense lately, and...”

“Tense?” my mother cut me off. “Marriage isn’t a fairy tale, Vera. It’s work. If he’s moody, find out what you’re not doing well and then you fix it.”

I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat and my mother's accusing tone. “This is me trying to fix it.”

“You’re too emotional,” my mother said sharply. “That’s why men get tired. Just cook, clean, look pretty. Let him rest when he gets home. Don’t overthink it.”

“Okay,” I said quietly. “Thanks mom.”

“Let me know if you need help with the food.”

I didn’t mention the hotel again. There was no point doing that. She would be against it as always.

After the call, i sat in silence for a long time. My hands were trembling, not from fear, but from exhaustion. Emotional exhaustion and the weight of this relationship. I was tired of proving that I was worth the effort. Effort that he never showed her, love that her stopped expressing.

But still… i tried, I tried to love enough for us both. I decided for the first time in a long time, I would take over one decision. I will plan my anniversary my way.

I went to the boutique first, alone. The women at the counter barely looked up at me when I walked in, until I moved toward the mannequin in the window, a deep red satin dress with a high slit and a back that dipped low enough to make me second-guess my decision.

“You want to try that one?” one of the ladies asked, blinking while she came forward.

I straightened up trying to hide my nervous expression as much as I could. “Yes.”

I guess it didn't work because the woman gave me a pitiful smile. "Don't be scared okay, just try out the dress."

I nodded blankly and moved towards the rooms that the woman pointed out.

Inside the changing room, I slid the dress over my skin carefully, slowly like it was fragile enough to break. It fit my figure like liquid. My breath caught in my throat as I stared at the woman in the mirror's reflection, stunned. The woman staring back had soft curves, light brown skin that glowed in the red light, and wide, expressive brown eyes that didn’t look dull anymore. It was the first time in years I didn’t look invisible. I look..... beautiful.

For a moment, I smiled, a genuine one.

Back at home, I waited until Andrew came out of the shower before speaking. His towel was draped carelessly over his shoulder, and his attention was already on his phone.

“I was thinking,” I said carefully moving closer to him, “next weekend, for our anniversary, we could have dinner. Just the two of us. What do you think?”

He didn’t even look up from his phone. “We’ll see.”

“It’s important to me,” I added, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. “Please, Andrew. I already have a venue in mind. I just want us to talk. Laugh, maybe… just take a break and reset.”

He sighed dramatically. “Fine do as you wish. Just don’t make it a whole production.”

Relief flooded my chest and happiness spread through my body. “Thank you. I’ll handle everything.”

And I did.

That week, I had became a woman on a mission. I booked a suite at a quiet, elegant hotel, the kind with soft lighting and cream tablecloths with gold trimmings. I pre-ordered his favorite wine. I planned the exact playlist the restaurant’s saxophonist would play. I had hired a decorator to set the mood with gold candles and rose petals. Every night, after Andrew had gone to bed, I sat at the dining table sketching layouts, checking prices, emailing vendors. I was going full out for this surprise. It was like I was injected with chicken blood.

He never asked what I was doing.

I still did my normal chores, I cooked, cleaned, did the laundry, ironed his shirts. But this… this dinner felt like a small flame. Something to look forward to. Something to hold onto, and I wasn't going to let anything ruin it.

On Friday afternoon, just moments before our anniversary, I had booked for myself a full-body spa session, a facial, a brow touch-up, and the hair appointment I hadn’t had the courage to make in nearly five years. I went to the salon nervous, clutching the photo of the hairstyle I had saved months ago but never shown anyone. Everyone would have insulted my choice but now I could do the style I wanted.

The stylist raised a brow when she saw my natural hair tucked into an old scarf. “You sure you want this? It’s a bold look.”

“I’m sure,” I nodded. “Make it bold. I haven't had bold in forever."

Everything took a whole five hours. My nails were shaped and painted a glossy wine red with glitter at the tips. My brows were cleaned and perfectly arched giving me a wild edge. My face practically glowed with new life. And my hair, layered, coiled at the ends, gently highlighted, framed my face like a crown.

When the stylist turned me toward the mirror,I couldn't help but gasp. I didn’t recognize the woman staring back at me.

I looked... beautiful. Not “pretty enough.” Not “decent.” Beautiful. Alive. Worthy.

Tears welled up in my eyes, but I blinked them away before they could fall.

The stylist smiled. “You’ve got someone to impress, huh?”

I smiled faintly, my voice soft. “You could say that.”

I stepped out of the salon , my new heels clicking against the sidewalk, my dress bag slung over my arm. People glanced at me as I passed by . Not because she was flashy, but because she was glowing with something unexpected.

For the first time in years, I felt seen and Andrew would see me as well. In a few hours, everything would change for the better. I didn't have the slightest clue about the shock I would receive in just a few hours.