Till Nuts Do Us Part

At the party for our first wedding anniversary, I hit the floor—face-first on a red carpet, gasping like a fish out of water.

Carlo Pipino, my husband, had his arm draped around Gianna Verde, his childhood flame, sipping champagne and laughing.

Gianna knew I was allergic to nuts. So, obviously, she bathed everything in hazelnut dressing.

One bite and boom—my throat locked, my lungs lit up, and hives popped like confetti.

I reached for my allergy meds—came up with a fistful of melted M&Ms instead.

Gianna laughed when she saw my face. "Surprise! Carlo swapped your meds. Seriously, Siena, one nut? Dramatic much?"

I slid off my chair, wheezing, while the crowd placed bets on how long my "performance" would last.

"Carlo... my meds..." I croaked. "Please. I'm gonna die."

He sighed, annoyed. "God, you're so dramatic. Why do women always play dead for attention? You know I love you. Just stop this show already."

Right then, my heart shattered faster than my lungs could.

I stopped begging. Hit the distress signal. Called my real family.

My phone lit up. [Ten minutes.]

'Ten minutes,' I repeated. Just hold on.

Carlo—big bad Capo Pipino—spotted the movement. His eyes iced over. "Seriously? Calling the cops?"

Before I could hide it, he yanked the phone from my hand and tossed it out the penthouse window.

A sharp crack—then nothing. My last link to the outside world, gone.

He crouched beside me, fingertips grazing my cheek, voice calm and lethal. "You know the rules. We don't call cops. And trust me, darling—traditori don't make it out alive."

I tried to shake my head, but my throat was locking up, my body heavy as lead. "I'm not a traitor... Carlo, I'm allergic... I need my meds..."

Gianna swooped in, latching onto his arm. "Oh, please, Siena. Is this real pain, or just your usual drama? It's an anniversary party, not community theater. You really invite us here just to humiliate Carlo? That's not love—that's just sad."

The crowd cackled.

She dragged him away, and I saw it all again—same old reruns.

Gianna never shut up about knowing him first. Like that gave her a claim.

Any time I brought it up, Carlo would smile, tuck my hair back. "Baby, if anything was gonna happen, it would've happened already. Don't overthink it."

She'd chime in with a fake laugh. "Please, I'd never go for someone as bossy as Carlo. Only you could handle that ego."

And I bought it. Dumb, right?

But then came the "coincidences." Every date, she popped up. Every conversation, she hijacked.

I'd sit there, a ghost next to my own husband.

Then came the fake concern. "What's wrong, Siena? Mad Carlo and I vibe too well? Don't be so sensitive."

Carlo never said a word. Just laughed. Like I was the problem.

Now she didn't even pretend. "You're seriously pathetic. Always acting like some spoiled princess. Ever think about how exhausting you are? Can't even breathe without Carlo looking your way."

"I'm really allergic," I choked out. "Just... give me my meds."

Silence. Then laughter, meaner this time.

Gianna cut through it. "Oh my God, she's STILL pretending? Carlo, please tell me you're not buying this."

His boys jumped in.

"Don't go soft now, Capo! Show weakness, and she'll walk all over you!"

"Yeah, Capo! Put her in her place!"

Whatever sliver of doubt he had got drowned out fast.

He wouldn't even look at me. "Enough, Siena. Cut the act. If you like the floor so much, we'll keep playing that game at home. Everyone's watching. Get up before I really lose it."

I stayed down.

Something flickered across his face—maybe guilt, maybe fear—as he took a step toward me.

Gianna stepped in fast, blocking him. "Carlo, don't fall for it. Allergies don't make people turn purple. She's probably just drunk."

I shook my head, barely able to move. "Meds..."

Before I could finish, Gianna crouched down and slapped me. Once. Twice.

"That better?" she sneered. "Feel sobered up now?"

My face burned, but she wasn't done.

She pulled a tiny bottle from her purse, eyes glittering. "This what you want?"

Every nerve in me screamed 'yes.'

Gianna laughed, shaking the bottle in her hand. "Then come get it, Siena. Crawl over, and it's yours."

I couldn't stand, but survival's louder than pride. I dragged myself forward, fingers clawing the carpet.

Just as I reached her, she yanked it back.

Gianna's laugh sliced through the air—high and cruel. "God, Siena, you're pathetic! Crawling like a dog? Guess you're just too slow."

Then she tipped the pills into a glass of whiskey.

The white tablets hissed and disappeared in the amber swirl.

A sound ripped out of me—part sob, part strangled gasp.