The night before my fiancé and I were supposed to file the marriage certificate, the most powerful Don on the Eastern Seaboard sent word to my Winslow: deliver a daughter to honor the old betrothal with his comatose heir, or consider the arrangement a blood insult.
The moment my fiancé Damiano Mancini heard the news, he pulled the diamond ring off my finger and slid it onto the ring finger of my sister, Luciana Bellandi. The favored daughter. The one they'd always chosen.
Then he posted the photo for the whole world to see:
"She's taken."
When I confronted him, shaking apart at the seams, Damiano barely furrowed his brow. His voice was calm, as if what he was saying made perfect sense.
"Luciana's never had a hard day in her life. Being blood-bound to a vegetable would destroy her."
"You're already pregnant. The Valentes would never want damaged goods. This is the best solution for everyone."
I stared at the man in front of me as though seeing him for the very first time. My eyes burned.
I had loved Damiano Mancini for seven years. I'd taken a knife for him. I'd drunk myself into a hemorrhaging stomach at dinners with his father's associates, toasting men whose names I wasn't supposed to know.
Just weeks ago, I'd gone through IVF to carry his child, and only then had he proposed.
But the love I thought I'd earned could never compare to his childhood bond with Luciana Bellandi.
Everyone waited for me to scream, to cry, to make a scene. Instead I swallowed the tears and managed a tired smile.
"Okay. I understand."
Damiano nodded, satisfied. He pulled Luciana close and started discussing the sham church wedding with her, saying if they were going to put on an act for the families, they might as well go all the way.
He assumed I would do what I'd always done: swallow every indignity and never leave.
But what Damiano didn't know was that the moment he walked out the door with Luciana to shop for wedding gowns, the Valente Winslow came knocking.
"The Valentes aren't the kind of people who force anyone's hand."
"Miss Bellandi, if you're willing to marry into our Winslow, I'll give you half of my son's personal fortune, plus two properties in prime American real estate. You'll be under our full protection."
I rested my hand on my stomach, still flat enough that no one could tell. I nodded.
"I'll marry him."
Then, without a second of hesitation, I scheduled the termination.
1
Caterina Valente took me to file the marriage certificate that very day.
I watched Luciana's social media posts, one after another, showing off the lavish gowns Damiano was buying her. I didn't waver. I signed the papers.
The process went through without a hitch. When the certificate landed in my palm, I felt almost dazed.
Caterina's voice was gentle. "From this moment on, you are the young Mrs. Valente."
"Matteo Valente is receiving treatment in America. When can you come with me?"
I touched my stomach.
"Give me ten days."
"There are a few things I still need to take care of."
Caterina placed an intricately crafted ring in my hand, her tone warm.
"Marrying into the Valente Winslow, you may never have love, and you won't have a normal marriage."
"But everything else you could ever want, you will have."
I looked down, my fingertip tracing the ring. Something loosened in my chest, faint but unmistakable.
"I'll treasure it."
Three full days passed before Damiano bothered to come home to the compound.
"I've got it all arranged. The church ceremony with Luciana is in a week."
"When the Valentes come asking, just tell them you're pregnant. If they have any pride, they won't force the marriage."
"Once the dust settles, I'll take you to file our certificate."
He reached for me the way he always did, pulling me into his arms, having decided my entire future without asking.
I looked up at him. My stomach twisted with a dull ache.
"So on paper, Luciana is your wife?"
"It's just a title. It doesn't matter. As long as I know in my heart that you're my real wife, isn't that enough?"
He said it like it was obvious. Like he was doing me a favor.
As if this arrangement was the best I could ever hope for.
It never once crossed his mind what people would call me if Luciana became his public wife and I was the one pregnant and unmarried. In the families, there was only one word for a woman like that, and no amount of money washed it off.
Being abandoned on the eve of signing the certificate had already made me the biggest joke in every social club and back room on the coast.
After a long silence, I let out a hollow laugh.
How had I not understood until now? In Damiano Mancini's eyes, my feelings, my reputation, none of it mattered.
But Luciana? She deserved the grandest church ceremony. The most spotless reputation.
"Tomorrow night at the banquet, I'll announce the wedding date to everyone."
He informed me, not asked. "Just tell people we broke up a long time ago."
"...Fine."
My nails bit into my palms, forcing down the bitterness rising in my throat.
In seven days I'd be gone. It didn't matter what I said anymore.
I'd already booked the procedure for two days from now. The baby inside me, I was letting go of that too.
Only then did Damiano look satisfied. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my cheek. I could feel the leather of his watch strap shift against my shoulder as his arm tightened around me.
"Serafina, if I hadn't insisted the Bellandi Winslow take you back ten years ago, you'd still be in that church orphanage."
"As long as you behave, I'll always give you a home."
A home?
Damiano believed that a girl starved of love her whole life would put up with anything to build a home with him. That no matter what he did, I would never leave.
What he didn't know was that in seven days, while he was playing groom to another woman in front of God and every Winslow that mattered, I would be on a plane to America as the young Mrs. Valente, with a fortune and a name that dwarfed everything the Mancini Winslow owned.
By then, I would never have to beg anyone for a home again.
The banquet began at eight sharp. Soldiers in dark suits lined the walls. The Mancini Winslow's legitimate associates and every aligned crew had turned out.
Damiano walked in with Luciana on his arm, both dressed in matching formal wear. He kissed her amid the applause and announced their church wedding in seven days.
Luciana swept her hair back with a flick of her wrist, and the diamond caught the light so sharply it stung.
It was a new ring. A three-million-dollar pink diamond Damiano had bid on at auction, because Luciana hadn't liked the old one. He'd replaced it without blinking.
Every wife and socialite in the room flocked to Luciana like moths.
"Luciana and Mr. Mancini are so much more suited for each other. Serafina Bellandi only latched onto the Mancini Winslow by clinging and refusing to let go. Guess she finally got dumped."
"Think she'll show up crying, begging to be his mistress?"
The whispers sliced through the air. I pretended not to hear.
That was when Luciana turned to me. Her fingers drifted to the pearls at her throat.
"Serafina, since you two have already broken up, you won't keep going after Damiano, right?"
Seven years of memories flashed before my eyes. I drew a slow breath.
"No. It's over, and I'll leave with my dignity."
Quiet laughter rippled through the crowd.
No one believed me.
Damiano included. He assumed I was putting on an act.
"Then shouldn't you hand over the keys to Damiano's properties?" Luciana smiled, and there was nothing kind about it. Her fingers touched the pearls a second time.
"I'd hate for you to lose control and find some excuse to get close to him again. It would be so embarrassing if you showed up at his place and threw yourself at him."
My expression hardened. I opened my mouth to say I would never do something like that.
But before I could speak, Luciana moved where no one else could see. She grabbed my wrist and forced the juice in my hand up into her own face.
"Oh! Serafina, if you didn't want to give them up, you could have just said so. Why did you have to splash me..."
She turned to Damiano with wide, wounded eyes as he rushed over.
"Serafina Bellandi!"
His face went dark. Without a moment's thought, he hurled his wine glass at me.
I threw my hands up on instinct, but the shattered glass sliced across the back of my hand.
"Who gave you permission to bully her?" he snarled. "Apologize to Luciana. Now."
He didn't want to hear a single word from me. The verdict was already in.
The way he looked at me, you'd think I was something vile.
The murmurs around us erupted:
"See? She couldn't handle being dumped. She finally snapped."
"Serafina Bellandi just didn't want to give back the keys. She was probably planning to sneak into the Mancini compound, sleep her way in, get pregnant, and claw her way to the top. Unbelievable."
I stood there. Blood ran down the back of my hand, mingling with the dark stain of red wine.
Damiano didn't so much as glance at it. He was too busy dabbing Luciana's face with painstaking care, his expression full of tender concern.
I thought of a day years ago, when I'd been shoved to the ground by bullies at school. He had been the one to help me up, cleaning each scrape with gentle hands.
All that tenderness, I realized now, had only ever been a fraction of what he saved for Luciana.
My eyes burned red, but I forced the tears back.
I didn't argue. I didn't lose control.
Instead, under the gleeful stares of every person in that room, I reached into my bag, pulled out every single key to every property I shared with Damiano Mancini, and dropped them all at Luciana's feet.
"You're right. I should have done this sooner. These keys belong to the real lady of the house."
"Your home. I won't set foot in it again."
