"Enough, Adriana. Since you came crawling here to smooth things over, I'll pretend I never heard the word divorce leave your mouth."

"Go home and put the apartment in order. These puppies were just whelped, things are still delicate, so I need to stay and keep an eye on them with Gianna a few more days."

Listening to the two of them stand there in that laundered little front of hers, I found it almost laughable.

One played the kept woman without an ounce of shame.

The other dressed up his dishonor as something noble, something a made man could be proud of.

I didn't waste breath on Lorenzo. I only gave a thin, mocking smile.

"Since Miss Russo is so resourceful, stealing another woman's husband apparently wasn't enough for her. She had to team up with my husband to steal my clothes too?"

"May I ask, this self-made woman of her own means, does that mean she made herself in the kept-woman trade?"

A few women picking through the grooming shelves nearby turned to stare at Gianna, startled.

"Wait, miss, so this handsome one isn't actually your man? But the two of you were eating off the same spoon. That's not exactly proper, is it?"

"Right. A minute ago I said you two made a darling couple and you didn't deny it. He's had a wife this whole time?"

Gianna let out a soft, practiced laugh and tucked a strand of hair behind one ear, but the laugh came a half-second too fast, and there was nothing behind it. Her face had gone crimson, and she had no comeback.

Seeing her like that, the women curled their lips in disdain, set down the things they'd already chosen, and hurried out into the street.

The rims of Gianna's eyes went red. She turned to Lorenzo, the very picture of wronged innocence.

"Lorenzo, did Adriana come here on purpose to ruin my shop?"

"I only thought that sweater was warm and soft, perfect for the puppies. She's already spent so much of your money. What kind of clothes doesn't she own? Why would she smear me like this?"

"Those were some of my regular customers. How am I supposed to face them now? How am I supposed to run a business?"

Lorenzo wiped her tears away, aching for her, then turned and fixed me with a look that could have buried a man.

"Adriana, I took the sweater. What are you taking it out on Gianna for? It wasn't worth anything. When did you turn so petty?"

"You're only going to get bigger as the months go on, won't even be able to wear it. Just have your mother knit you another. Problem solved."

"It's not some treasure stitched by a world-famous hand. Why carry on like it's precious?"

Looking at that lofty expression of his, at the contempt sitting cold in his eyes.

I slapped him across the face, unable to hold it back, and the scream tore out of me.

"Yes, what my mother made is precious! Because she can never knit me anything again!"

"While you and your little childhood sweetheart were cooing over each other, while you'd sooner sit through her dog whelping than pick up my emergency call, my parents were already dead!"

Lorenzo's eyes flew wide, and his hands let go of Gianna on instinct.

"What did you say? How could your mother and father possibly—"

Before he could finish, Gianna shoved me hard.

"What gives you the right to put your hands on people?"

"It's just a ratty old sweater, isn't it? Like anyone wants the thing. Here. Take it back!"

She tore the sweater off the puppies and hurled it into the litter box the clerk was carrying toward the door.

"Going on about your parents dying. I ran into your aunt and uncle at the market just this morning!"

"I can't stand women like you, using a pregnancy to lie and play helpless, throwing fits, doing whatever it takes to bend your husband to your will. A parasite. You're a disgrace to every woman in this city."

The litter box hadn't been emptied yet.

Clumps of filth clung to the wool, giving off a foul stench.

My mother's love, in the end, was ruined past all recognition.

"I, I didn't mean to, I didn't know it was the boss's—"

The clerk, terrified by the bloodshot look in my eyes, stood frozen, at a loss.

Rage and hatred scorched my insides until everything burned. My thumb pressed hard against the inside of my bare ring finger, the place a wedding band used to sit, pressing until it hurt, pressing until I was a breath from doing something there would be no walking back from.

I spun toward the one who had started all of it and raised my hand high.

Only the slap never landed on Gianna's face.

Lorenzo's hand cracked across mine first.

In the silent shop, it rang out sharp and clear.

I staggered, my right cheek burning, a ringing in my ears.

I lifted my head in disbelief.

Lorenzo seemed startled by what he'd done too, his eyes wide and stunned as he looked at me. A made man who'd ordered worse without flinching, frozen by the print of his own hand on his wife's face.

But out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Gianna's reddened eyes.

And that shock curdled into disappointment and disgust.

"Adriana, what right do you have to lay a hand on Gianna, just because she exposed your lies? And to think you used to be a reporter who made it her mission to chase the truth."

"You'd even curse your own parents? Aren't you afraid of what's coming to you? Save up some good karma for the baby in your belly, at least!"

"Either you apologize, or you take your trash and get out. Make one more scene and I'll have the Feds at that door before you reach the curb."

By the time I made it back to the estate in a daze, clutching that heap of fabric, I was soaked through from the downpour.

Shaking with cold.

The rain had spread the filth across the fabric until it was unrecognizable, like a dirty rag.

It was supposed to keep me warm in my mother's place.

I sat still through the night, and when the grey light came up over the territory, I tore up the dissolution papers I'd meant to use to part on good terms.

Lorenzo was right. A reporter's duty is to show the world the truth.

So how could I let him down?

Deep in the night, a cool, herbal-scented touch spread across my cheek.

I opened my eyes. Lorenzo stood there with the ointment, the Family's own fixer come to dress a wound he'd made, looking at me with guilt.

"Adriana, does it still hurt?"

"I'm sorry. I lost my temper today. But you shouldn't have said those things about Gianna in front of the customers."

"She's an unmarried girl, and she runs that grooming parlor out in the open. That kind of talk is bad for her standing."

I brushed his hand away, my voice flat.

"And so?"

Lorenzo pressed his lips together, testing the waters.

"So could you apologize to her publicly? Just say the pregnancy got to you, that you weren't in your right mind, that none of it was true."

"The day after tomorrow is the second anniversary of Gianna's kennel opening. Don't you know half the people who decide what stories run? You could put a good word out for her place while you're at it."

For a moment, that ointment smelled more revolting than soiled cat litter.

"Lorenzo, I'll only ask this once. Are you sure?"

He dropped his eyes, not daring to look at me, yet his voice was strangely firm. In the silence the only sound was the slow crack of his right knuckles, one at a time, the way he settled a matter already beneath him.

"Gianna's been crying so hard. Just think of it as making it up to her. Think of it as banking some good fortune for our baby, too."

"As long as you agree, I promise I'll come with you to every checkup the Surgeon sets from now on. I'll be twice as good to you and the baby in the future."

I gazed quietly at this face.

I couldn't find a trace of the man he used to be.

After a long silence, I smiled.

"Fine."

Lorenzo, delighted, moved to pull me into his arms, but his phone kept buzzing against the nightstand.

I didn't have to look to know who it was.

Sure enough, once again he chose to run to Gianna.

But I wasn't sad anymore.

A few minutes later, Gianna called.

"Adriana, you're shameless, you know that?"

"Pregnant and still can't sit still, playing the pitiful little wife to lure dear Lorenzo over to see you. And how'd that turn out? One crook of my finger and he came scurrying right back to me."

"If it weren't for that thing in your belly, he'd have cut you loose ages ago!"

In the past, I would have hung up on the spot.

But this time, I pressed my thumb against the bare place where my ring used to sit, touched my empty stomach, and let out a scornful laugh.

"Right. So you do know I'm carrying his child. The Marchettis value a whole, intact bloodline, and he cares about saving face in front of the Family."

"And if I'm not mistaken, you two always use protection when you sleep together, don't you?"

Gianna fell silent in an instant, confirming everything I'd guessed.

"Then you should know that as long as I have this child, there's no way he severs the union for you."

"Men. No matter how much fun they have out there, in the end they always come home."

"Oh, and just now he told me that once our baby arrives, he's signing every holding in his name over to the child. So you won't walk away with a thing."

"As for you, you're nothing but a toy to amuse my husband while I'm too far along to bother. I should really be thanking you."

On the other end of the line, I heard Gianna's furious, ragged breathing, the sound of a woman who'd built her standing on borrowed Family cash and just felt the floor tilt.

"Don't get cocky. I'll make sure Lorenzo severs the union with you."

And she certainly didn't disappoint me.

Half an hour later, she sent over a video of her and Lorenzo in bed together. With a taunting voice message attached.

"Adriana, what is there to be so smug about? All I had to do was shed a few tears and Lorenzo agreed to give me a baby."

"So we didn't bother with protection today. Once I'm pregnant, you and that little bastard in your belly can wait to be thrown out on the street."

I didn't reply again. After all, with a fool, every extra word is wasted breath. I pressed my thumb against the bare inside of my ring finger, against the place a ring used to sit, and held it there until the impulse passed.

Two days later, Lorenzo footed the bill himself and threw a party at one of the Family's hotels to celebrate the second anniversary of Gianna's grooming parlor, the little laundering front she liked to call her own.

Among the guests were friends the two of them shared, his close associates from the inner circle, and the loyal patrons who kept Gianna's kennel in cash.

Before the doors even opened, Gianna had announced to everyone that today I would be offering her a public apology, carried live across every channel of the network, into every territory that mattered.

Once the timing was confirmed, Lorenzo gave a nod to the man at the control panel, signaling that they could begin. The room straightened at the gesture. In this world a nod from a made man was an order, and orders were obeyed without a word.

The moment the screen lit up, my face appeared.

"Good evening, everyone. At my husband's request, I'd like to solemnly offer Miss Gianna Russo an apology today."

Gianna's eyes gleamed with the smug triumph of a winner. Across the room she let out a soft, practiced laugh and tucked her hair behind one ear, the laugh arriving a half-second too fast.

The next second, I let one corner of my mouth curl.

"I'm sorry that when I received the video of you in bed with my husband, I couldn't hold it back and threw up out of disgust, and so failed to respect your dignity as the other woman."

"By way of compensation, I'll do exactly as you both wished, and along with all my friends in the network, send the two of you a nice wave of free exposure. Across every territory. To every ear that listens."

"Now, everyone, please enjoy their performance, and let us all bear witness to this grand and filthy affair."