After five years of a political marriage to Lorenzo, the Underboss of the Gallo family—a union meant to preserve the fragile peace of Chicago's underworld—there was finally a glimmer of hope.

I was pregnant.

I clutched the small ultrasound photo, ready to try and truly love him for the sake of our child.

But the conversation I overheard through the crack in the study door shattered my world.

"When are you going to tell Aoife?" The voice of my mother-in-law, Isabella, was cold and sharp. "Bianca's belly is getting too big to hide. The Gallo family cannot be without a male heir."

Lorenzo's voice was heavy with exhaustion. "Just give me a little more time, Mamma. I'll handle it. We can't afford to offend the O'Connell family yet."

I froze at the door, the photo in my pocket searing my skin like a branding iron.

You broke your vows, Lorenzo Gallo.

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1

The moment I discovered Lorenzo Gallo's betrayal, my first instinct was to tear him apart with my bare hands. But I held back. I was an O'Connell Principessa, and I would maintain my composure. Instead, I used my connections to dig up every detail on the other woman.

Bianca Romano. A dancer at one of the Gallo family's nightclubs. She looked innocent and harmless, right up until six months ago, when Lorenzo went to Lake Geneva to deal with a seized shipment and ended up in her bed.

My private investigator said it was a setup. The Gallos' rivals wanted to get some dirt on him, to ruin his reputation. But Bianca? She somehow "rescued" him from the mess. A damsel in distress saving the hero—a classic, pathetic trope.

Lorenzo tried to pay her off. She refused. Of course, she did. She was holding a much more valuable bargaining chip. She was pregnant. With a boy.

My mother-in-law, Isabella, who prized the family bloodline above all else, would never let a Gallo heir go unrecognized. So, of course, she stepped in to "protect" Bianca.

Suddenly, it all made sense. Lorenzo's endless "emergency meetings," his excuses to rush back to headquarters… He had been running off to see Bianca. How many times had he left in the middle of dinner, claiming family business needed him? He even canceled our fifth wedding anniversary because of a supposed "important deal." It turned out he was just spending time at his other home.

So I waited. I sat in the living room, as still as a marble statue.

Lorenzo walked in, right on cue.

"Cara mia, I brought you your favorite cannoli."

He dangled a box from the city's finest pastry shop.

I glanced at the box, then met his gaze. "Lorenzo, we need to talk."

"What's wrong?"

He sat beside me and draped his arm over my shoulder out of habit, trying to pull me into his embrace.

The faint, cloying scent of her cheap perfume clung to him. I smiled. "Let's end this marriage."

Lorenzo immediately spun me to face him, his grip so tight it bruised. "Who's been putting these crazy ideas in your head?"

"No one." My voice was steady, without a tremor. "It's just… we've been married for five years and still have no children. I don't want the Gallo family—or you—to be left without an heir. I know what that means for an Italian family."

"I will never agree, Aoife. I love you. You're all I want."

His words were a punch to the gut. I could almost feel the fragile life inside me tremble, as if protesting its father's lies. "Lorenzo, how can you say that when your heart is already divided?"

"Isabella has always wanted a grandchild," I coaxed gently. "I've held you back for too long."

"I'll handle my mother." His voice was firm, filled with unquestionable control. "You just need to take care of yourself. It doesn't matter if we have a child or not. If it comes to that, we can find a surrogate."

He paused, a flicker of calculation in his eyes. "There are plenty of girls who would do anything for money. They'd be happy to carry one for us. You wouldn't even have to go through the pain of childbirth."

He squeezed my cheek, the calluses on his fingertips brushing against my skin with a rough tenderness. "I'll take care of everything."

I leaned against him, resting my head on his chest. His strong heartbeat, once my safe harbor in this cruel world, now offered no comfort at all.

Lorenzo's plan was painfully obvious: bring his bastard into our home for me to raise, all to keep up appearances.

How ridiculous. As if I were the one who couldn't have children.

You're so greedy, Lorenzo.

I didn't bring up the child again. Instead, I focused my attention on Bianca.

She had quit her job and was being kept in a luxury apartment on the South Side, with a maid to wait on her. Of course, a girl with Bianca's background couldn't resist showing off. Her social media was filled with luxury goods and all sorts of unsubtle brags.

[Four months along! My future mother-in-law just gifted me more jewelry! I told her she didn't have to, but she insisted. The Gallo family is so good to me!]

[My man says this baby is the hope of the family, and I'm the hero who made it all possible!]

[Can't wait to sunbathe with him—just the three of us!]

Her latest post was a photo taken on a private yacht. A man's arm was casually draped around her, his hand resting on her pregnant belly.

Even though I could only see the hand, I recognized it immediately.

Lorenzo's.

How bold.

He didn't even take off the Gallo family signet ring. Maybe he was too caught up in the moment and forgot. Or maybe he thought I would never see it.

That ring wasn't just any piece of jewelry. I was the one who placed it on his finger the day he was promoted to Underboss.

I created a burner account and left a comment on her post:

[Are you the new Mrs. Gallo? I heard they've been married five years with no news. Congratulations on finally bringing an heir to the Gallo family!]

By the time I refreshed the page, the post was gone.

I set down my phone, a cruel smile twisting my lips.

So, you do know a surrogate is meant for the shadows, not the spotlight.

The public exposure didn't chasten Bianca. On the contrary, it seemed to fuel her ambition. She sent me a friend request on social media.

I clicked on her profile picture—a lazy Persian cat lounging in some luxurious apartment. It was cute. Lorenzo hated animals; he said they were a sign of weakness.

I once suggested we get a Persian cat to keep me company, but he flatly refused, claiming he was "allergic" to cat fur. But now, with Bianca? It seemed all his so-called principles were negotiable when it came to someone new.

I accepted the friend request. Almost immediately, she sent a private message:

[Mrs. Gallo, I never wanted to ruin your marriage. I just want what’s best for this baby. It’s an innocent life, a blessing from God.]

Wow. She couldn't wait to declare her pregnancy, even invoking God as if she were performing a sacred duty. I left her on read. A few minutes later, another message came:

[Mrs. Gallo, please believe me! I truly love Lorenzo!]

By then, I had already screenshotted everything. Evidence.

Finally, I replied:

[What are you talking about? You're pregnant? With Lorenzo's child?]

The typing bubble popped up and flickered a few times, as if she were composing and deleting. Then:

[I'm sorry, I thought you knew. Lorenzo said he would be acknowledging the child soon.]

I retorted: [Don't play these pathetic games with me. Having the baby is your business. Whether the child is acknowledged is a matter for the family to decide. It has nothing to do with me.]

She didn't reply, probably assuming I would swallow my pride for Lorenzo's sake.

I scheduled an abortion. Then I called Eithne and told her to start preparing the divorce papers.

Lorenzo and I had always been the model couple of the Chicago underworld—the perfect union between the Irish and Italian outfits. No clingy mistresses, no gold-digging dancers. I had truly thought our alliance could become real love, not just a power play. I never imagined he would betray me so cruelly, a betrayal that had seeded a new life.

Eithne Bianchi, my best friend, my father's goddaughter, and the Consigliere of the O'Connell family, almost dropped her wine glass when she heard the news.

"Aoife, are you insane, or have you lost your mind?"

"He has someone else," I said flatly. "She's four months pregnant. It's a boy."

Eithne was furious, her hand immediately dropping to the holster at her waist. "Where's my gun? That bastard has some nerve, humiliating an O'Connell Principessa. I'll kill him myself."

I raised a hand to stop her. "Forget it. That would mean war, and he isn't worth it. What I want is power. And he's the one who broke our vows."

She stared at me for a long moment, then pulled me into a hug. "Aoife, you don't have to hold it in. If you want to cry, just cry. I'm here for you."

But the tears wouldn't come. My chest ached, a hollow space where something vital had been ripped out. When the pain is that deep, you don't cry—you just feel the wound scabbing over, hardening, becoming your armor.

"Eithne, I want a divorce. And I'm going to make him pay."

"No problem. I'll handle it. I'll make the Gallo family bleed."

An hour later, I arrived at my father's estate, resolute.

When I told them about Lorenzo and his child, the face of my father, the Don of the O'Connell family, turned to thunder.

"Aoife, do whatever you want. If Lorenzo has a death wish, I can grant it," he said, his voice firm.

"As for… the child, that's your decision," my mother added softly, her eyes full of heartache.

I placed a hand on my stomach. A life had begun to grow here, but it had come at the wrong time and chosen the wrong father.

If Lorenzo hadn't hidden his lies, we might be celebrating this moment right now, and the entire city of Chicago would be buzzing with the news of the alliance's heir.

But my mind was made up. The O'Connell family does not tolerate betrayal.

My family respected my decision. They would let me handle the divorce myself but made it clear: if the Gallo family dared to cause any trouble, the Soldati were on standby, ready for war.

After leaving the estate, I headed to a private clinic for a pre-op checkup. But there were a few things I had to handle first.

In the waiting area, I saw Isabella leading Bianca into a VIP room. My stomach churned, and before I could think twice, I followed them.

"Bianca, I've told you, Lorenzo cares about you. Stop overthinking things," Isabella's voice drifted from inside the room. "He's keeping quiet for now to keep Aoife calm. We still have business with the O'Connells; we need that alliance."

Her words made me sick. I turned and walked away.

At the end of the hallway, I ran straight into Lorenzo.

The moment he saw me, he froze, panic flashing across his face. "Aoife? What are you doing here? Are you not feeling well?"

He tried to feign concern, shifting from panic to false solicitude in a split second.

I said nothing, merely glancing at the pregnancy report in his hand. Lorenzo's eyes darted to the paper, realizing how it must look. "This is for the wife of one of my Soldati," he blurted out, the lie coming easily. "She had a fall and almost miscarried. You know, as an Underboss, I have to earn my men's loyalty, so I brought her for a checkup."

His voice softened as he studied me. "And you?" he asked cautiously. "Why are you here?"