And it would cost my entire family their lives.
A marriage that ended in execution and ruin was one I could not afford.
And no longer wanted.
I hadn't even made it back to the Corsetti house yet.
The news of my broken engagement with Dominic Valenti had already swept through Aurelia.
The visitors lined up outside the Corsetti residence, waiting to pay their respects to my father, were the first to catch the scent of it. One by one, they picked up their gifts and left.
"Does the eldest Corsetti girl still think her family is what it used to be? Marrying into the Valenti family was already above her station!"
"I only wanted to get close to Dominic Valenti through the Corsettis. Otherwise, who'd bother warming up to a house this cold?"
"Who does Serafina Corsetti think she is? All she has is a reputation as the sharpest woman in the old borough. Other women would kill to stand beside Dominic Valenti, and she's been sitting on that engagement for years. Now she breaks it off in front of everyone? Who is she trying to impress?"
"Dominic Valenti earned his name young. A seat on the Commission is right around the corner. The Corsettis are going to regret this until their guts turn green."
...
I listened to all of it. My heart was still as dead water.
Giulietta's little face flushed scarlet with rage. "They look down on you, Sister. They look down on our whole family..."
I patted her head. "Giulietta, what other people think doesn't matter. What matters is that our family stays together, safe and sound."
Giulietta sniffled.
Then her eyes lit up.
"Father!"
She threw herself into our father's arms the moment he stepped through the gate, still wearing the dark suit he kept for sit-downs at the social club.
The complaints poured out of her in a torrent: everything that happened outside the compound with Dominic, every snide remark from every fair-weather visitor who'd turned tail and left.
I clutched the edge of my sleeve, unable to meet my father's eyes.
Not until I heard him ask, "Why don't you want to marry him?"
His tone was gentle. He didn't seem angry.
Only then did I dare speak. "I don't have feelings for him anymore."
It was the most straightforward reason I could think of.
I could hardly tell my father that I had been bound to Dominic Valenti twice before. That the first time, I fell from a cliff and died. That the second time, I lost my head on the executioner's block, the whole Corsetti family lined up beside me, every last one put to the sword.
He wouldn't believe me even if I told him. Better to say nothing.
My father studied me, brow furrowed. "Serafina, you have never been reckless."
"There must be another reason."
"Since you won't say, I won't press."
"But let me remind you of one thing. Dominic has been by your side since childhood. He has always adored you. A match like that is rare. Don't do something you'll regret."
A rare match?
I used to believe that too. That Dominic Valenti was everything I could hope for.
We were promised to each other before we were born, the contract sealed before the Commission when our mothers were still carrying us. We grew up side by side.
From the first stirrings of young love, I dreamed of growing old with him. I held that dream for ten years.
Every letter he sent from the southern corridor, I smoothed flat beneath a paperweight and tucked carefully into a box, layer upon layer.
During the worst of the territorial war, when word came that he was dead, I carved both our names into a plaque of olive wood. Even if he was gone, I would keep his name beside mine.
That was how much I loved him.
And Dominic?
To pave the way for Carmela's entry into the Montecarlo family, he surrendered his crew and laid down his guns.
He told me, "Serafina, you've always been so understanding. I know you'll support my decision."
He asked me to give up my standing in the old borough and follow him to the outskirts, to a life stripped of territory and protection.
When I was carrying his child, he turned around and drove back to Aurelia, all to prop up Carmela's position.
I tried to stop him.
He said I had changed.
"The Serafina I knew would never be this unreasonable."
I stood there, frozen.
Something cracked open in my chest, and the cold wind howled straight through.
Three years of marriage. Three years in that safehouse on the edge of nothing, choking down whatever I could put together from what was left in the pantry.
Hands that once held embroidery needles split open at the knuckles from hauling firewood.
When the kindling was too damp to catch, I got on my hands and knees and blew into the stove until tears streamed down my face.
I never once complained.
And in the end, because Carmela whispered one word of grievance, he blamed me.
I ran after their car.
I just wanted to ask what I had done wrong.
I lost my footing at the cliff's edge. Two lives gone in an instant: mine, and my unborn child's.
