My husband's first love had a breakdown and threw herself from a rooftop.
In a fit of rage, he dragged me, eight months pregnant, to an abandoned carnival on the edge of Family territory and bound me to the seat of a drop tower ride. His soldiers stood by, faces blank as stone, as they lashed my wrists and ankles to the cold metal.
"If you hadn't provoked Bianca, would she have broken and jumped?"
Terrified of heights, I clutched at the restraints, my swollen belly making it hard to breathe. Tears streamed down my face as I admitted my mistake, my voice cracking as I begged him, "Lorenzo, please... let me go. I swore it. On my parents' graves, I'd never appear before Bianca again."
But my husband only looked at me with chilling indifference.
"Adriana, for the sake of the child, I won't set you aside." His voice was calm, almost gentle, but it only made the next words colder.
"But the pain you've caused Bianca, I want you to pay it back a hundred... no, a thousand times over."
Lorenzo ordered the ride set to run without stopping for an hour, then turned and walked away without a backward glance.
The machinery groaned to life, the seat jerking beneath me as the tower climbed higher and higher. I fought the restraints, screaming until my throat felt raw. Every time the ride plunged, my stomach flipped, the terror so intense I thought I might lose consciousness.
Then, on one brutal drop, pain ripped through my body, sharp and hot and unstoppable. A rush of fluid gushed between my legs, soaking my dress and the seat beneath me.
The next day, Lorenzo finally remembered I was still there.
"Adriana, Bianca is fine now," he said, his voice empty of concern. "Apologize to her, and I'll bring you down."
What he didn't know, what none of them knew, was that the platform had been drenched in blood for hours. My baby had been torn from my body somewhere between the sky and the earth, reduced to nothing but mangled flesh and silence.
——
"The Family physician called this morning. That woman is dodging her checkups. What trick is she running to steal my attention this time?"
Lorenzo frowned, a trace of disgust flickering through his dark eyes.
Beside him, Salvatore, the old steward who had bled for the Morettis before the Don was born, went pale. His voice trembled as he pressed his weathered hand flat over his heart. "Don Moretti, the Madam still hasn't been brought down. And she's terribly afraid of heights. She won't even step onto the second-floor balcony. Now, in her last month, could... could something have gone wrong?"
Lorenzo's expression froze for a split second, then hardened again, doubt flickering across his face. "Is that so? Adriana, afraid of heights?"
Before Salvatore could finish, Lorenzo waved a dismissive hand. "It's a carnival ride. It's not as if she's throwing herself off a building. Let her be frightened. It might teach her something, so she won't move against Bianca again."
Salvatore lowered his head and did not dare say another word.
But the Don's man at his shoulder could hold his tongue no longer. "Don Moretti, at first the Madam was screaming. Then she went silent. Completely. And she carries your child. Your own blood. Should you not at least have someone see to her?"
Lorenzo's expression shifted, the brief flicker of realization swallowed at once by scorn.
"I knew it. Even the fear of heights was a performance. If she were truly that terrified, how does she suddenly go quiet? Adriana is as manipulative as ever. Since she wants a show, let her stay up there until morning. Tomorrow I'll bring her to kneel before Bianca and beg forgiveness. Only then is this matter closed."
With that he waved his hand, cutting off any further protest, and strode toward the bedroom.
On his bed, Bianca lay half-bare beneath the soft sheets, her delicate shoulders pale in the dim light. Lorenzo's gaze darkened as he crossed the room, his throat working with desire. Without a word he leaned down and took her lips in a deep kiss.
Bianca whimpered softly, her fingers pressing weakly against his chest before her eyes opened. "Lorenzo... we're in your room. If Adriana finds out, she'll be upset."
Her voice trembled just enough to sound pitiful, her wide eyes brimming with guilt. "And what I did before... Lorenzo, I only did it because I love you too much. I thought if I were gone, Adriana would stop fighting you over me. I never wanted you to punish her for my sake. Should I go and apologize to her?"
She bit her lip, the picture of heartbreaking conflict. Her thumb rubbed slowly against the pads of her fingers, smoothing some invisible seam, and her sorrowful smile held a beat too long.
Sure enough, seeing her this way, Lorenzo's desire and his anger twined together. His hands moved to roughly knead the softness of her, his breath growing heavier as he flipped her beneath him with ease.
"Bianca, you're too kind. If not for you, I'd have died back then. Even your fear of heights came from pulling me clear. To think that Adriana told someone as gentle as you to jump off a building makes my chest ache."
His grip tightened, possessive, his voice dropping to a cold whisper. "If she ever does it again, even carrying my child, I'll make her pay with her life..."
