The Mafia Husband Who Never Let Go of His First Love

It happened during a Family operation in the northern stronghold, that snowbound exile beyond the reach of the Feds. The ambush came without warning, a rival crew bleeding out of the dark and the world coming apart in gunfire and screaming. My arranged-alliance betrothed, Marco Greco, didn't even hesitate. He let go of my hand and ran straight to Bianca Russo, his first love, and left me to die where I stood.

Lorenzo Falcone, the underboss leading the raid, saw me pinned at the edge of the slaughter with no way out, and he didn't think twice. He risked his own life to drag me back from it.

Later, on our wedding day, Marco abandoned me before the assembled Family. No explanation. No warning.

He simply walked out with Bianca on his arm. And in that moment, Lorenzo, without missing a beat, dropped to one knee in front of every made man there and asked me to be his.

We swore the union, blood-bound before the Family, and for a while, things seemed fine. Lorenzo treated me well, the way a man is meant to treat his wife.

For the first time in years, my life felt almost normal.

But like everything that feels too good to be true, the peace didn't last.

Two years into the marriage, Lorenzo was suddenly struck down with a staged illness, liver cancer, the doctors said.

I didn't think twice. I gave him two-thirds of my liver to keep him alive. Anything to keep him breathing.

But as I lay recovering in the house doctor's back room, everything changed. I overheard his most trusted soldier, Gianni, speaking to him low in the old Sicilian dialect the men used when they didn't want to be understood.

"If Adriana ever finds out you faked the cancer just to save Bianca, aren't you afraid she'll walk away and leave you with nothing?"

Lorenzo held my hand, watching me with those soft, devoted eyes. But his next words chilled me to the bone.

"The union was never real. But I do owe her. I'll make it right."

I had let myself believe I'd finally found someone who cared whether I lived. Someone who wouldn't leave me alone in this world.

But it was all a lie.

A well-played, elaborate lie.

——

I followed Lorenzo up to the private suite at the top of the safe house, thinking he meant to look in on me. But in his hurry, he'd left the door open a crack.

As I came closer, I caught a glimpse through the gap. Bianca was in his arms, her face glowing with relief, her smile as radiant as it had ever been.

I caught my own reflection in the dark glass beside the door. Pale. Fragile. Barely holding on.

Between the two of us, who was really the one at death's edge?

"Lorenzo, I knew you'd never abandon me!" Bianca's voice was sweet, relief practically dripping from every word.

Lorenzo gently smoothed her hair, his voice soft and tender, a warmth I had never once been given.

"As long as you're all right, nothing else matters."

...

I spent five months in that back room after the surgery. Five months drifting in and out, while Lorenzo came and went. And how many of those visits had been for Bianca, not for me?

I watched him, his eyes full of a warmth I'd never seen turned my way. So this was the face he wore when he was in love.

A memory surfaced. It was not long after I'd first come back to consciousness. Lorenzo had been sitting beside me, gripping my hand tightly.

I tried to speak, to say his name, but before I could, I overheard Gianni in the doorway, his voice dropping into Sicilian.

"Bianca's in the clear now, yeah? I can't believe you. Five years chasing that woman wasn't enough? And now you've conned Adriana, who carved out two-thirds of her liver to save your life." He rubbed the back of his neck and stared at the floor as he said it.

Lorenzo's voice was steady, untroubled. "I told you. I'll keep her safe for the rest of her life, no matter who she chooses."

Gianni scoffed. "You lied to Adriana. You married her. You used her to save Bianca. You're not afraid she finds out and leaves you with nothing?"

Lorenzo answered with that same coldness that made my blood run cold. "We were never really married. The union was a fiction. But I do owe her. I'll make it right."

Gianni had no words for a moment. "Lorenzo, you're unbelievable. You're seriously still planning to end up with Bianca?"

Lorenzo didn't answer. His silence said all of it.

He kept holding my hand, smiling down at me as though nothing had happened. But I could feel it now. The warmth of his touch was draining away, and for the first time, I understood.

I had never really known him at all.

I pressed the pad of my thumb hard against the inside of my wrist, where my mother had once taught me to find a pulse, and I held myself together.

"What were you two talking about?" I asked softly, fighting to keep my voice level. "Did something happen?"

Gianni hesitated, then turned to Lorenzo and murmured in Sicilian. "She didn't hear us, did she?"

Lorenzo, though, didn't so much as flinch. He rolled his wedding ring once around his finger with his thumb, and his voice came calm, as if he hadn't just broken my heart.

"It's about the expedition. The higher-ups got word of an old hideout up north, sealed off for years. There may be something buried in it. They're still choosing the men for the run, since it's strictly inside business."

The lie came so easily. And in that moment, I understood everything.

I had never truly known him. Not at all.