I was nine months pregnant, expecting to deliver within the week, when a receipt from the Cielo Grande arrived at the estate. It was the most exclusive hotel in the city, the place where Nico had taken me on our wedding night, and tucked inside the envelope was a handwritten note on cream-colored card stock.
Hope you and your husband had an amazing night.
My husband of seven years. Nico Moretti, Don of the Moretti Family. He had been taking his mistress to the same suite where he first undressed me, and he had been doing it for the past two years.
The first time was the day I miscarried.
My phone buzzed. An anonymous message, sent from a number I didn't recognize, routed through whatever back channels people in this world used when they wanted to deliver a wound without leaving fingerprints.
"His one true love who can produce an heir for the Family unlike an infertile Don's wife. Last night we had sex in your honeymoon suite."
Multiple photos were attached. Two videos.
I was numb, tears streaming down my eyes as I clicked on one of them.
"You are the only one I love. I will leave Bianca and marry you." I closed my eyes to the recorded confession of my husband.
………………………………………………
One message after another flooded my screen.
*"I hope you know the truth now."*
*"I'm Nico's woman."*
*"Every night he claimed he was out handling Family business, he was actually in my bed."*
*"He told me he's only staying with you because he needs an heir."*
*"Here's my Instagram. It's full of our photos together. Even on your wedding anniversary, your husband was with me."*
My fingers trembled as I opened the link.
The page loaded instantly.
Photo after photo filled the screen, each one documenting an intimate relationship that should never have existed.
The most recent image showed Valentina sitting comfortably on a man's lap while kissing him.
The caption beneath it read:
**January 23rd. The day he first saw me two years ago. Love at first sight.**
January 23rd.
My birthday.
A hollow laugh escaped my lips as tears blurred my vision.
I continued scrolling.
Nico's face never appeared clearly in any of the photographs.
But I recognized him immediately.
How could I not?
I was the one who had spent years choosing those watches for him.
I knew every piece in his collection.
The weight of each watch.
The tiny scratch on his Patek Philippe from the night he slammed his hand onto the table during a Family meeting with the Cavallis.
I knew his hands.
His cuffs.
The signet ring engraved with the Moretti crest.
I didn't need to see his face.
I knew exactly who he was.
Then my scrolling stopped.
A single photograph froze me in place.
In the picture, Valentina was wrapped around a man's waist while proudly displaying a diamond ring.
Flowers filled the background.
Fireworks illuminated the sky behind them.
The caption beneath it made my blood run cold.
**March 19th. He asked me to be his girlfriend today. Guess what? I said yes.**
A year ago.
The day I lost my baby.
The memory hit me so hard I could barely breathe.
I remembered calling Nico again and again.
He never answered.
When I finally managed to message him that I was in the hospital, he called back only to accuse me of trying to get his attention.
Then he hung up.
I had been lying in a private clinic protected by Family soldiers, bleeding and terrified, surrounded by doctors who ultimately answered to him.
And he hung up.
I remembered staring numbly as my child's tiny body was taken away.
The shock had shattered something inside me.
For more than two months afterward, I could barely leave my bed.
The estate had grown strangely quiet around me.
The soldiers assigned to the property avoided eye contact.
Even Carmela, who usually had an opinion about everything, suddenly had nothing to say.
Then another message appeared.
My heart dropped.
Valentina had sent an ultrasound image.
Attached beneath it was a doctor's prescription.
And one simple sentence.
**I'm pregnant with Nico's child.**
The world tilted.
My chest tightened so violently that I struggled to draw breath.
The room suddenly felt too small.
Too suffocating.
Downstairs, a door closed.
A soldier's radio crackled briefly.
The ordinary sounds of the Moretti household continuing as usual felt crueler than anything else.
As if nothing had happened.
As if my life hadn't just fallen apart.
Like a woman possessed, I rushed toward Nico's wardrobe.
My hands shook as I searched frantically for his wallet.
For years, he had kept our photo inside.
Our photo.
The one reminder that I mattered.
When I finally found it and opened it, my worst fear became reality.
My photograph was gone.
In its place sat a picture of another woman.
Valentina.
There was no denying it anymore.
The evidence was everywhere.
My husband had been openly cheating on me.
The man who had stood before the Elder Commission and sworn a blood-bound union.
The man my father had trusted with both his daughter and his legacy before his assassination.
The man I had loved my entire life.
With trembling fingers, I opened one of the attached videos.
Nico's voice filled the room immediately.
A voice I knew better than my own.
"You're... you're pregnant?"
His expression lit up with pure joy.
When Valentina nodded, he lifted her into his arms and kissed her.
Then he laughed.
A happy, carefree laugh I hadn't heard in years.
"I'll have the marriage to Bianca annulled as soon as she gives birth to a son for me."
He kissed her again.
"Then we'll finally be a real family."
"I'll finally have two heirs."
For several seconds, I couldn't process what I had heard.
Then I replayed the video.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Each replay drove the knife deeper.
My fingers drifted to my bare ring finger.
I used to twist my wedding band whenever I was nervous.
The ring sat upstairs now, tucked away in a jewelry box because pregnancy swelling had made it uncomfortable to wear.
Only then did I realize something.
That ring had stopped meaning anything long before I ever took it off.
I sat there on the floor, hugging myself tightly as reality crushed everything I thought I knew.
Then the front door opened downstairs.
The subtle shift in the atmosphere was immediate.
The sounds of security personnel straightening.
The faint movements throughout the house.
The unmistakable signs that always accompanied Nico's return.
He was home.
"Bianca?"
His voice echoed downstairs.
"Bianca?"
When he couldn't find me, he climbed the stairs and eventually entered our bedroom.
The lights flicked on.
His eyes immediately found me sitting alone in the corner.
Tears streaked my face.
"Bianca?"
Concern appeared on his features.
"Are you alright?"
When he reached for my shoulders and tried to help me up, every instinct inside me screamed to shove him away.
His hands were warm.
They had been touching her.
"You're due any day now," he continued. "Can you stop being so careless? Why are you sitting in the dark? What if you fell—"
"Where were you?"
The question cut through his concern instantly.
He froze.
Only for a second.
Then he recovered.
"Baby, I was with Marco discussing the border dispute with the Cavalli territory."
The lie came effortlessly.
"Really?"
I looked directly into his eyes.
"My friend said she saw you on the riverside today buying hot chocolate."
For a moment, all color drained from his face.
Then he quickly regained control.
"So what?"
His tone sharpened.
"Am I not allowed to buy something I like now?"
His eyes narrowed.
"And why are people following me around?"
The guilt flashed across his face before he could hide it.
He had spent the day with Valentina.
Laughing with her.
Playing with her.
While his soldiers lied for him.
While Marco's name served as a convenient alibi.
I forced myself to stay calm.
"I only asked because I wanted hot chocolate too."
I wanted to see how far he would go.
How many lies he would tell.
Apparently, there was no limit.
Finally, his patience snapped.
"Why are you always so demanding?"
His voice echoed through the room.
"I've been working all day."
"If you want something, ask the staff to get it for you."
Then he shook his head in disgust.
"Honestly, Bianca, how are you supposed to be a proper Don's wife when you're this stubborn?"
Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away.
The bedroom door closed behind him.
Silence returned.
Slowly, I lowered my head and wrapped both arms around my stomach.
Tears finally spilled down my cheeks.
"My sweet baby..."
My voice cracked.
"Your daddy has already abandoned us."
I closed my eyes and gently stroked my swollen belly.
"But Mommy won't."
"Mommy will always take care of you."
