He Let Our Baby Die for His Mistress,I Left and Never Looked Back

When the car took my baby, Lorenzo Falcone happened to be driving past with his favored courier in the passenger seat.

He saw the blood spreading across my white dress, and he covered the woman's curious eyes, tossing out a single cold line. "Bad luck. Don't look."

Then he sped away into the night.

Late that night, in the corner of our bedroom closet, I found a piece of lace lingerie that wasn't mine.

I shut the closet door and calmly dialed a number.:

"Don Moretti, I've made up my mind. I can leave Falcone territory next week and take the place in your Family."

……

"That's wonderful news, Adriana Russo. Welcome to the famiglia."

The second I hung up, Lorenzo walked out of the bathroom.

His hair was half dry, the faintest trace of steam still clinging to him.

He used to wash in five minutes flat, the way a man does who keeps one ear on the door.

Lately, though, he always brought his phone in and took at least half an hour.

"Who were you just talking to?"

He asked, but his eyes never left the screen.

I told him plainly that I'd just gotten off the phone with Don Moretti.

He only gave a vague hum.

I knew it. He hadn't caught a word I'd said, same as always.

And for once, I didn't fight, didn't make a scene.

I just started typing the words that would sever my allegiance, there on my phone.

When Lorenzo picked up his glass and found the calming tea I brewed for him every night missing,

his gaze finally landed on me, like he was doing me a favor.

"Adriana, I showed your scans to the Family's doctor. He said it's just a minor surface wound. Just keep it dry."

I kept typing without looking up.: "Got it."

That afternoon, the wreck had left my calf stitched up in eight places.

And that wasn't all. They'd also found I was four weeks pregnant, with a threatened miscarriage.

The doctor said, with real regret, that if I'd been brought in sooner, the baby might have been saved.

Seeing how cold and distant I looked, Lorenzo knit his handsome brows and started to come over to see what I was doing.

Just then, his phone buzzed.

The corner of his mouth lifted instantly, and he turned and walked into the study, shutting the door the way men in his life shut doors on things you aren't meant to hear.

So I opened a burner account and pulled up Lorenzo's feed.

There was a new post visible to everyone but me.

An apology. Written by Lorenzo Falcone.

I shouldn't have broken my promise to the sweetest little courier in the whole world.

I'd promised to finish at the social club on time and take my girl out for a fine dinner.

But business ran long, and I made her go hungry for a whole ten minutes.

I was completely in the wrong. From now on I'll turn over a new leaf and be a good man to her.

I tapped "like," and right then the blood-pact came through from Don Moretti.

I opened the link and signed my name without a second's hesitation.

Early the next morning, Lorenzo went out and bought soup dumplings and steamed dumplings from a famous old shop near the waterfront.

Just as I reached to open the warm bag of crab-roe soup dumplings, he smacked my hand red.:

"Don't you like dumplings? I bought the shrimp ones especially for you."

I froze for a second, then it hit me. The crab-roe soup dumplings were for Bianca Greco.

I couldn't stop myself from asking him.:

"We've been together seven years. You don't know I'm allergic to shrimp?"

Lorenzo's face shifted slightly. He shot to his feet and said icily,:

"Always looking for something to complain about. Eat it or don't."

As he moved to leave, I went into the bedroom and carried out a bag.

"When you see Bianca later, do me a favor and give this back to her."

When he saw the lace lingerie inside, shock flickered through his eyes.

His mouth opened, like he wanted to explain something.

But seeing how calm I was, with not the slightest urge to argue, all he said was,:

"I'll tell Bianca to stop being so careless with her things."

"Sure."

Seeing how low my spirits were, Lorenzo offered to drive me to the club today.

Seven years at his side, and through every storm, the Don in him had kept the Family's business and his private life so separate he'd never once driven me anywhere himself.

Yet on Bianca's very first day in his service, she got chauffeured both ways.