I was heading to my husband Adrian's office, clutching the pregnancy test I had just gotten from the bought clinic on Mulberry. Two lines. And also the keys to the brownstone I had prepared for him as a gift.

I'd spent the drive rehearsing how I'd surprise him. Maybe I'd show him the test and the keys right now, or maybe I'd just tell him over dinner.

But everything changed when I reached his office door. I was about to knock when I heard voices inside.

"Bianca doesn't need to know, Rocco," Adrian said. "It's in the past. It's done."

My hand froze on the door handle. What are they talking about?

Rocco's next words hit me like a slap. "You used her mother's organ to save Viviana Vitale's sister. You lied to Bianca, and her mother died because of it. What do you think she'll do if she finds out?"

The world stopped spinning. My breath hitched.

Viviana Vitale. My stomach twisted at the name.

Viviana. Adrian's first love. Viviana. The woman Nico Carbone, my ex-fiancé, had left me for. Viviana. The one Adrian never stopped loving.

I pressed myself against the door, my heart hammering in my chest. Through the gap I could see the corner of Adrian's desk, the lamp throwing a hard circle of light across the leather blotter, and the rest of the room swallowed in shadow. The building was quiet. The kind of quiet that settles over a Romano front office after hours, when the crew has gone and the only people left are the ones who know too much.

"I did what I had to do," Adrian said coldly. "Viviana needed me. Her sister needed me. Bianca's mother was already dying."

"So you killed her?" Rocco demanded. He dragged one thumb across his jaw before the next words came. "You killed her, Adrian."

"I saved Viviana's sister," Adrian corrected, his tone devoid of guilt. "And I married Bianca. Isn't that enough?"

"You've spent five years lying to her, Adrian. Five years pretending to be the perfect husband. Poor girl. She loves you!"

"Bianca means nothing to me," Adrian said flatly. He smoothed the knot of his tie with one finger, the gesture so practiced it barely registered as movement. "I've paid her back by dedicating my life to her. I've done my duty. But if Bianca ever finds out… then so be it," Adrian said without hesitation. "I'll remove her from my life if I have to. As long as Viviana is happy, nothing else matters."

The pregnancy test slipped from my fingers and hit the floor.

I couldn't breathe. He treated me like a queen, doting on me, caring for me, giving me everything I thought I needed. Five years inside the Romano house. Five years of Sunday dinners where the wives smiled and the men kissed my cheek and I believed every single one of them.

I believed he loved me. I believed he cared.

Until today.

I turned, threw the keys in the trash bin, and ran.

The hallways blurred as tears streamed down my face. My chest felt tight, like I couldn't get enough air. I didn't stop until I was in my car, gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white.

I started driving, but I couldn't see through the tears. My mind replayed every word, every lie. My mother had died for Viviana's sister. Adrian had killed her.

I hit the brakes too late. The impact jolted me forward, and everything went black.

When I woke, the sharp scent of antiseptic filled my nose. My head throbbed, and every inch of my body ached. The room was small, windowless, fluorescent. A private room at the bought clinic. The kind of room where Romano money made questions disappear.

I blinked against the harsh lights, and then I saw him.

"Bianca," Adrian said, his voice breaking. He was sitting by my bed, his hand gripping mine tightly. His eyes were red, his face pale.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice trembling. "Why were you driving like that? You could've died!"

I stared at him, my mind reeling.

He kissed my hand, then my forehead. His tears fell freely. "Don't ever scare me like that again. I can't lose you."

He looked at me like I was his whole world. He played the part so well.

I forced a smile. "I'm fine," I said softly.

Relief flooded his face. He leaned down and kissed me again, whispering how much he loved me, how much I meant to him.

I let him believe I hadn't heard the truth. I let him believe I was still the naive, trusting wife he had married.

But deep down, I was already planning my vendetta.

Adrian Romano had taken everything from me. My mother, my trust, my love. So I'm going to take everything from him.

Adrian told me he'd be out of town on business for the Family.

"Just a couple of days," he'd said, kissing my forehead like the doting husband he pretended to be. "I'll miss you."

I smiled and waved him off, pretending to care. The moment his black sedan disappeared past the gate and the last soldier in the escort pulled away, I got to work.

I'd spent the last few days observing his routines, watching where he kept his most guarded possessions. It didn't take long to find the safe hidden behind a painting in his office. The room still smelled faintly of his cologne and the cigars he shared with visiting capos on Sunday evenings.

The code? That was easy. Viviana Vitale's birthday.

The lock clicked open on my first try.

Inside, everything I needed was neatly organized.

There were documents from the clinic. Agreements signed for organ donation, records of the surgery, and proof that he'd authorized the transfer of my mother's organ to Viviana's sister. The surgeon's name was there too, a compromised doctor the Romano Outfit kept on retainer.

Tears stung my eyes, but I forced them back.

Beside the medical records were a series of financial transactions. Payments made to my ex-fiancé, Nico Carbone. For business, the receipts claimed. But I knew better now.

My hands trembled as I sifted through them. Jewelry, designer clothes, vacations. He'd disguised them as gifts for associates, but every single one had been for Viviana.

I found another pile of receipts. These were for me. The necklaces, the rings, the dresses. For years, I had thought they were lavish, extravagant even. But compared to Viviana's gifts, they were nothing.

The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. He had never loved me. I had been nothing more than a placeholder. A convenient wife to shield his obsession with Viviana.

I sat down on the floor, surrounded by his lies. For a moment, I felt the tears spill over, hot and bitter.

But then I clenched my fists.

I wasn't going to cry. Not anymore.

I pressed my thumbnail into the inside of my wedding band until the skin paled. Then I let go.

I took out my phone and began photographing everything. The clinic agreements, the financial transactions, the receipts. All of it. I captured every detail.

At the bottom of the safe, I found a folder labeled "Future Assets." Inside were investment plans, property deeds under shell companies, and insurance policies routed through the Family's legitimate fronts. I made copies of those too.

When I was done, I closed the safe, leaving everything exactly as it had been.

I walked out of the estate without looking back.

The lawyer's office was my next stop. Not a Family lawyer. A civilian attorney in a building three neighborhoods away from any territory the Romanos claimed.

"Mrs. Romano," he said, startled when I walked in unannounced. "I wasn't expecting you."

"I need a divorce agreement," I said calmly.

His eyes widened. "Does Mr. Romano—"

"No," I interrupted. "He doesn't know. And I'd like to keep it that way for now."

He hesitated. I could see him calculating the risk of crossing a capo's wife without the capo's knowledge. But then he nodded. "We already have a template prepared. All I need is your signature."

He handed me the papers, and I skimmed through them. Everything was in order.

I signed my name at the bottom with a steady hand.

"Send it to him after I'm gone," I instructed. "No earlier."

"Gone?" he asked, confused.

But I didn't explain. I left the office and headed to my next destination.

The building was tucked away in an alley off the waterfront, its sign faded and barely legible. A barbershop front with nothing behind the chair but a locked door.

This was the place.

A fixer's network specializing in making people vanish. The kind of operation that existed in the cracks between rival Families, serving anyone who could pay and keep their mouth shut.

I pushed open the door, and the smell of cigarettes and damp paper filled the air. A man behind the counter looked up, his face shadowed under a hood.

"You lost?" he asked.

"No," I said firmly. "I need your services."

His eyes narrowed. "What kind of services?"

"I want to disappear," I said. "Completely."

He leaned back, studying me. "You know what you're asking for?"

"Yes."

He smirked. "And what makes you think I can help you?"

I reached into my bag and pulled out a stack of cash. The bills were crisp, untraceable.

His smirk widened. "Now we're talking."

He motioned for me to follow him to a back room. The walls were lined with monitors, and the hum of machinery filled the space. A police scanner crackled low in the corner.

"Here's how it works," he began. "We'll fake your death. A car wreck, drowning, whatever you want. Once it's done, you'll get new papers, a new life. Ghost identity. No one will ever find you."

I nodded, my resolve unshaken.

"I want it to look like a suicide," I said. "Something believable. No loose ends."

He handed me a clipboard. "Fill this out. We'll handle the rest."

The headline caught my eye before I even realized what I was looking at.

"Adrian Romano and Viviana Vitale spotted at exclusive charity auction—sparks still flying after all these years."

My heart stopped, a sharp ache spreading through my chest.

I sat frozen, staring at my phone screen as if it had betrayed me. There they were, Adrian and Viviana, dressed to perfection, glowing as if the world revolved around them. They stood close, smiling at each other with an intimacy that turned my stomach.

The photos were everywhere. Viviana's hand lightly brushed his arm, a soft, deliberate touch, and his gaze lingered on her face, warm and familiar. They looked like a perfect couple, the kind you'd see in one of those society-page spreads the neighborhood wives passed around after Sunday Mass, radiating elegance and charm.

And to think he told me he was handling business for the Family up in Atlantic City.

This wasn't business. The auction wasn't a professional engagement. It was a date.

I scrolled further, my hands trembling as I read the article. The words painted a nauseating picture of their chemistry, their "undeniable connection." Each sentence felt like a knife twisting deeper into my chest.

I dropped my phone onto the couch as my vision blurred. My chest tightened, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe. The betrayal I had convinced myself wasn't real was now staring me in the face, undeniable and merciless.

But then, I thought of my baby.

I rested my hand gently on my stomach, closing my eyes as I took a slow, deep breath. This life growing inside me, so innocent, so pure, didn't deserve to be tainted by my pain. It didn't matter how shattered I felt. This baby was a blessing, a light in the darkness, and I would cherish it no matter what.

I had to be strong. Not for myself, but for my child.

That's why I decided to go to the clinic.

The sterile scent of the private Family doctor's office didn't calm my nerves, but the warmth of the doctor's smile did. As the ultrasound wand glided over my stomach, the rhythmic flicker of the baby's heartbeat filled the room.

"Everything looks perfect," the doctor said, pointing to the screen. "You're carrying a healthy baby."

Tears welled up in my eyes, but this time, they weren't from sadness. Relief washed over me, soft and warm, breaking through the layers of hurt. For the first time in weeks, I felt something other than pain.

I felt hope.

After leaving the clinic, I knew what I had to do next.

I made my way to the Romano shipping offices on the waterfront, a building that had once felt like a second home. But now, as I stood before the heavy double doors with their frosted glass panels and the Romano crest etched above the lintel, I felt like an outsider.

The lobby was polished marble and quiet authority, the staff greeting me politely but with surprised glances. Soldiers posted near the stairwell tracked my movement without turning their heads.

I clutched the resignation letter tightly in my hand. I stopped a passing secretary and asked, "Is Mr. Romano in his office?"

"Yes, ma'am, but you can't go in right now," she said, her tone nervous.

"Why not? I'm his wife," I said firmly, narrowing my eyes.

The woman hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. "Mr. Romano has an important visitor, and he doesn't want to be disturbed."

I blinked, stunned. "An important visitor? Who?"

She avoided my gaze, her voice faltering. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I can't say."

My chest tightened, anger simmering beneath my shock. He hadn't even told me he was back from his so-called trip to Atlantic City.

"I'm his wife," I repeated, more forcefully this time.

But she only shook her head. "I'm sorry, ma'am. He left strict instructions."

I clenched my jaw and nodded, forcing myself to appear calm. "Fine," I said, my voice clipped.

But I wasn't leaving.

I waited until she walked away before slipping into the hallway leading to Adrian's office. The corridor was dim, the kind of quiet that meant the men who usually stood outside had been sent away on purpose.

The door was slightly ajar, and I hesitated for a brief moment, my heart pounding. A part of me knew I shouldn't look, that whatever I saw would only hurt me more.

But curiosity and pain pushed me forward.

I peeked inside, and the air was knocked out of me.

Adrian stood by his desk, and Viviana was in his arms. Their faces were close, far too close. Then, as if on cue, his lips met hers. My breath hitched. It felt like my entire world had collapsed in an instant.

They kissed, completely oblivious to the world around them. The way his hand rested on her waist, the way her smile melted into his. It was as if nothing else mattered. Not the Family. Not the oath he'd taken at the altar of St. Cecilia's. Not the child growing inside me.

I wanted to storm in, to scream, to shatter the perfect little bubble they had created for themselves.

But I didn't.

Instead, I reached for my phone with trembling hands. I snapped a photo, the camera capturing the exact moment Viviana looked up at him with that same sickening smile I'd seen in the auction pictures.

It was perfect.

I turned my back and just left the resignation letter on my desk for him to see once I was gone. Then I walked back to my car. Once inside, I stared at the photo, the image seared into my mind. I opened a dummy account on social media, uploaded the picture, and sent it directly to Nico Carbone, Viviana's husband.

Back home, I packed everything Adrian had given me over the past five years and carried the boxes downstairs. I lit the fire and burned them all into ashes.

As I watched the flames roar to life, Viviana appeared out of nowhere and without even saying a word kicked those boxes. It sent embers and photos flying all over the place, even on her face, but she just smiled.

I blinked in shock. "Viviana, what are you doing?"

"Oh, sorry! I just slipped. I didn't mean to do it," she acted innocent while still keeping that smile. "Wait, are these photos of you and Adrian? Why are you burning them? Did you finally realize how useless you are to him and you don't deserve these things?"

I raised my brow. "Excuse me?"

"I'm just saying how you couldn't protect your mother back then… you know, how she died… and you were so useless!"

My thumbnail pressed hard into the inside of my wedding band until the skin paled. Then I stopped.

It made me boil. Without thinking, I slapped her across her face. It wasn't even that hard but she fell straight into the fire.