“Lorenzo, I think I twisted my ankle just now. It hurts so much,” Carmela said, all pouty, one hand pressed to the swell of her belly.

Lorenzo didn’t say a word. He simply swept Carmela up into his arms and carried her toward the upstairs bedroom, not even sparing me a glance. The soldiers stationed at the foot of the staircase stepped aside without a sound, eyes lowered, as a man does when the Don has chosen his path and no one is foolish enough to stand in it.

Meanwhile, Donna shot me a pointed look. Her fingers found the crucifix at her throat and began to roll it slowly between them.

“Not only can you not give this Family a son, you can’t even keep your own husband. If Matteo hadn’t taken Carmela first, do you think my Lorenzo would have ever looked at you? And you have the nerve to eat at my table. Get upstairs. You ruin my appetite just by breathing the same air,” she said, her voice dripping with cold sarcasm, the cross still turning under her thumb like a curse said as a prayer.

I had always known Donna despised me.

She saw me as the woman the underboss had passed over, the one who had clung to her son and made him a laughingstock in front of the whole Family. After eight engineered losses, her contempt had only sharpened into something with an edge.

Because she was Lorenzo’s mother, I tried to tell myself the fault was mine for failing to carry a child. I felt the guilt of it, especially in the days when Lorenzo would step between us and shield me from her tongue.

I endured it all.

Tonight, though, Lorenzo was so consumed by Carmela that he seemed to have forgotten I existed at all.

For a brief moment, I considered laying the truth bare across that table. I pushed the thought down as quickly as it rose.

I had already decided to break from this Family and run. So what was the point of saying anything?

I went upstairs in silence and noticed Carmela’s bedroom door standing slightly ajar.

Something pulled me toward it.

What I saw made my heart freeze. Carmela, her clothes pulled askew, lay on the bed with Lorenzo above her.

“Lorenzo, you’re still the one who looks after me best. Matteo can’t give you an heir, and if you let Adriana carry your son, he loses the bloodline. If that happens... I don’t know how much suffering they’ll put me through.”

Lorenzo’s breath broke between movements, his eyes gone dark with want. “Is Matteo good to you? Has he raised a hand to you?”

“Since the pregnancy he treats me like I’m made of glass. Terrified I’ll tire myself. He washes my feet with his own hands. He’s gentler with me than ever.”

Lorenzo’s expression turned faintly bitter. “As long as he’s good to you... as long as you’re happy... I have no regrets.”

“Lorenzo, you’ve given up so much for me. I couldn’t be your wife, but I can give you this. Tonight, I’m yours.”

Lorenzo could hold himself back no longer, and the two of them came together harder, the bed frame knocking against the wall.

I never knew that the cold, controlled Don, the man whose stillness silenced rooms, could lose himself like this.

Tears fell as I stumbled back to my own bedroom. My thumb found the bare ring finger and pressed against it, reaching for a band that no longer sat there.

Lorenzo didn’t come back the whole night.

The next morning, Lorenzo looked at me with eyes full of guilt. He smoothed the lapel of his jacket with one slow pass of his hand.

“Adriana, I meant to come back to you last night. My mother kept me until dawn, going on and on. I just... couldn’t get free.”

I didn’t name the lie. I only turned toward the door to wait for him.

A bucket of kitchen scraps came down over me without warning, and Carmela stepped in front of me, the slop pail still in her hands, a mocking smile on her mouth.

“Adriana, did you enjoy the show? Watching Lorenzo come undone over me?” The corner of her mouth lifted a half-second too early, a flicker of triumph she couldn’t quite swallow.

So she had left the door open on purpose.

“Losing a child doesn’t feel good, does it? But you won’t have to worry about that anymore. You’ll never carry one again.”

“If you ever found the nerve to get pregnant again, I’d make you understand the consequences. You will not take my place as the Don’s true woman.”

“For me, Lorenzo didn’t just give up the bloodline to Matteo. He helped me carry this child. And those babies you lost? They became my... supplements.”

My head snapped up, my voice shaking. “What did you just say?”

Carmela laughed softly. “What? Did you never wonder why, every time you lost one, Lorenzo told you the child was already buried, that you couldn’t see it? Because I told him to keep it from you. Consuming them... it’s good for my health.”

Despair, rage, and disbelief hit me all at once.

So that was why Lorenzo never let me see my children.

How could he?

Everything that happened... all of it... was for Carmela?

Carmela laughed, and the sound of it had a blade hidden in it.

"Stop making that pitiful face. You're looking for someone to blame, huh? If you wanna do that, then blame yourself for being useless! It was only natural that your children were fit to be my nourishment when their mother was someone as weak as you!"

I couldn't take it anymore. I raised my hand and slapped Carmela across the face.

Smack!

Unfortunately, my slap never landed on her face. Lorenzo had swiftly yanked Carmela behind him and took the hit himself. The men posted at the doorway went still, hands drifting toward their jackets, waiting to see which way their Don would turn.

He shoved me forcefully to the marble, his anger boiling over. "Adriana Bellini, what are you doing?!"

Carmela cried her eyes out. "Lorenzo, I just wanted to comfort Adriana. I meant to tell her not to be sad over the loss of her child."

"But she got jealous that I'm the one carrying. She accused me of stealing her place as the Don's true woman and tried to dump all her frustrations on me. I pushed her to protect myself. It wasn't intentional! I already apologized, but she screamed that I must lose this baby too, and then she came at me!"

Before I could explain, Lorenzo looked at me with disdain. "Adriana, I never knew you were such a petty woman."

"If you couldn't keep your baby, it's because of your incapable body. Why take your anger out on Carmela and repay her kindness this way? Don't envy things that aren't yours. Apologize to Carmela. Now."

Incapable? Hah.

The more I looked at him, the more he became a stranger to me, this polished head of the Marchetti bloodline who could order a man into the river and still cut fruit by candlelight. "Lorenzo, tell me. What did you do with the bodies of my lost babies?"

Lorenzo furrowed his brow. "I had them buried properly, of course. On consecrated ground. Hadn't I told you that?"

His acting was flawless. Behind him, Carmela tucked her face into his shoulder, and for half a second too soon the corner of her mouth lifted before she remembered to weep again.

"Lorenzo, you're right. I shouldn't envy things that aren't mine. Don't worry. I won't fight Carmela anymore." Then I left without sparing either of them a second glance.

Lorenzo was feeling something close to unease. I heard the breath catch in his throat, the start of my name forming on his tongue, but Carmela stopped him.

"Lorenzo, the slop she poured on me has made me sick. Take me to the Family's physician."

Lorenzo hesitated, just slightly. In the end, he didn't follow me.

Once I was back at the estate, I gathered everything Lorenzo had ever given me across the years and fed it all into the fire.

When I pulled out the alliance pact that had bound my bloodline to his, a WeTalk notification chimed. I opened the app and read the screen.

[Adriana, I simply told Lorenzo I felt unwell, and he summoned the finest obstetric physician in the territory.]

[The man was beyond the Commission's lines, in neutral ground. Lorenzo said he'd fly him home by private helicopter. Aren't you jealous?]

I didn't respond. As I finished reading, I lifted my gaze to the blood oath already curling in the flames, the paper that had made me a contract between two families, going black and turning to ash.

I didn't care whether Lorenzo ever saw this. I already knew he wasn't coming home tonight.

Sure enough, Lorenzo called.

"Adriana, Carmela's having complications with the pregnancy. Matteo's away on Family business, and as her brother-in-law I have to see to her. Don't be angry with me."

I couldn't stop the image rising in my mind, the photo Carmela had sent earlier. Her face glowing as she ate the fruit Lorenzo had cut for her with his own hands. She hadn't looked sick at all.

"Sure, I understand," I replied. "A pregnant woman's well-being comes first. Take good care of her."

There was a brief pause before Lorenzo spoke softly. "Adriana, I didn't mean to be harsh with you today. I know our baby just left us. I know you're hurting."

"But Carmela is carrying the Marchetti bloodline. Neither of us can continue the family name, and that's the only thing the old Don's edict cares about. If something happens to her, my mother would never recover. The whole Family wouldn't."

I couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh. Why did he need so many excuses?

"Stay home and rest," he continued, his tone shifting, warming, the way it always did when he wanted something. "Tomorrow's your birthday. I've booked the finest hotel in our district, and I've got a surprise planned for you. I'll come for you in the morning."

By noon the next day, Lorenzo still hadn’t returned to the estate.

I placed the signed papers of severance on the table and set a recording to be sent to him at a scheduled hour, the way a man times a debt to come due.

Once that was done, I took up my single case and had the driver carry me toward the airfield at the edge of Marchetti territory.

As soon as I arrived, Lorenzo called again.

"Sorry, Adriana. Some of the Family’s partners showed up without warning to settle next season’s couture arrangement. I can’t leave right now."

"I had my secretary see to everything for you. And I remembered you’ve always wanted me to design a dress for you, right? It’s all ready. Once you try it on, it’ll look amazing."

"Okay, thanks."

After the line went dead, my gaze drifted to two girls standing near the gate.

They were huddled together, eyes glued to a phone screen, squealing in excitement.

"Oh my God, I can’t believe the Don is not only beautiful to look at but designs such gorgeous things for a woman who’s expecting. I’m starting to wish I were pregnant!"

"You think a woman can simply buy them? Every piece at today’s showing was designed by Don Marchetti himself for his pregnant wife. Each one is unique, cut from the most expensive cloth money can move. There must be hundreds of them. She’ll never wear them all before the child comes. I’m so jealous."

"I heard the Don doesn’t want to trouble his wife, so the showing was by invitation only, kept quiet like everything the Family keeps quiet. Your man is really something, an associate at the couture house and still getting us these photographs. If it wasn’t for him, we’d never get a look at any of it."

In the video, Carmela walked arm in arm with Lorenzo, gliding without effort in the elegant gowns made for her alone, her smile radiant and carefree.

The Marchetti couture houses were a power in the fashion world, the polished face the Family showed the city, and Lorenzo’s hand for design was nothing short of extraordinary. I used to tease him, asking him to make a dress for me.

He would always brush it off, saying he was too busy, that there was never time. But for Carmela? He’d cut hundreds of pieces without a second thought.

Looking back on what he’d said that morning, about designing a dress for me as a surprise, that smug warmth in his voice, the irony landed like a knife between my ribs.

Soon the call to board came. I pressed my thumb to the bare finger where the band used to sit, the absence the only thing left to hold, then turned off my phone and settled into my seat on the flight bound for neutral territory, beyond the Commission’s reach.

After choosing Carmela’s clothes for her, Lorenzo went to the hotel for the surprise party he’d arranged for Adriana, one of the legitimate fronts the Family kept spotless.

He pictured how she would look in the dress he’d chosen, soft and angelic under the lights.

But instead of Adriana, it was his secretary who met him, flustered and pale, the man’s hands twisting before him. "Don Marchetti, something’s wrong. The madam is gone."