Salvatore’s face darkened as he glared at me. "You were the one who fell down the stairs and broke your leg. That’s why things turned out this way. Why are you taking it out on Vittoria?"
"You’re not a good mother. You took medication and couldn’t nurse your own child. Vittoria was kind enough to help, so what right do you have to lash out at her? Just because you don’t care about your child, does that mean no one else is allowed to?"
I’m not a good mother? I don’t care about my child?
Tears streamed down my face as I roared at him in fury, "I’m not a good mother?! Then what about you?! Do you dare to tell me why I fell down the stairs? Where is my child? And what exactly was in that medication I took?!"
Salvatore’s brow drew together. "Matteo is sleeping soundly in the nursery, of course. And the medication was only for the pain in your leg. You knew that already."
"As for why you fell, that was your own carelessness. With so many soldiers in that house, why were you the only one who got pushed? You’re useless, and yet you have the nerve to lay a hand on Vittoria? You’re a mother too. How could you be so cruel to another mother? Apologize to her. Now."
Yes. So many men in that house. And yet I was the only one pushed.
I looked at him. So certain of himself, so at ease inside his own lies, his thumb turning that heavy signet ring slow and lazy around his finger the way it always did when nothing in the world could touch him. And suddenly, I laughed.
That was my husband. The Don I had been bound to before the Family.
A liar.
A murderer.
I picked up the knife from the ground.
With every scrap of strength left in me, I dragged the blade across my chest, again and again, cutting deep until the front of my dress went dark and soaked through with blood.
Salvatore’s eyes widened in horror. "Adriana! What are you doing?! Stop it!"
I dropped the knife and met his gaze, calm as still water. "You’re right, Salvatore. I shouldn’t have hurt a mother. So I’m atoning for my sins. To your beloved. Is this enough sincerity for you?"
With that, I turned and walked away.
Blood dripped from the wounds, leaving a trail behind me down the marble.
My steps were unsteady, but I never looked back.
Salvatore hesitated. For half a breath his hand lifted toward me on instinct. But Vittoria wound herself around his neck, her fingers grazing the hollow of her throat, her voice thin and pitiful and right on cue.
"Sal, it hurts so much... Can you take me to a doctor? We can’t let Matteo go hungry."
Salvatore wavered a moment.
Then he made his choice. He gathered Vittoria into his arms and walked the other way.
A few hours later, my phone rang.
Salvatore’s voice was gentle, almost coaxing. "Adriana, have you tended to your wounds? Don’t worry. I made sure the medicine Vittoria used won’t affect her nursing. I’m sorry for what I said earlier."
"But the doctor confirmed the medication you took wasn’t suitable for a nursing mother. Vittoria has plenty of milk, and formula isn’t as good for him. Matteo still needs her. I’m only looking after her to show my gratitude. Don’t read too much into it, all right?"
I answered without feeling. "I’m fine. Take good care of her. Make sure the child doesn’t go hungry."
"I always knew my wife understood me best." Salvatore chuckled low. "I already spoke with my mother. She won’t come at you anymore."
"You gave a son to this bloodline. That’s no small thing. The day after tomorrow, I’m holding a feast in your honor at the estate. Consider it my way of making it right. Be good and wait for me."
That night, every mouthpiece the Family owned ran the same segment.
"In a stirring show of devotion, the honorable Don Marchetti summoned the finest physicians in the country by private helicopter, all for the sake of a wife’s minor wound."
In silence, I took out the disinfectant and the hemostatic powder and tended to myself with the barest, most necessary care.
The next day, Salvatore still didn’t come home.
I gathered up everything I owned and gave it all away. Then I took our union pact, the one sanctified before the Family, the one I had once held so close to my heart, and tore it into pieces, and dropped them in the trash.
On the third day, just past noon, Salvatore’s message came in.
[Adriana, I’ve finished my business. I’m going to the hotel to check on the arrangements. One of my men will come for you this afternoon.]
But in that same moment, he was walking through a high-end arcade with Vittoria’s hand in his and Matteo cradled against his chest, moving from one luxury jeweler to the next.
All around them, envious eyes trailed their every step.
"The Don truly adores his wife and child. My commissions for the next twenty years are as good as made. What a picture that little family makes."
"But I heard the Don booked the cheapest banquet room at the hotel today. Supposedly to celebrate the birth of his son."
"You must be mistaken. A man who spoils his wife like that, would he really pinch pennies? Did you see the necklace at Madam Marchetti’s throat? He bought it this very morning. That one piece could pay for ten banquets."
I heard every word.
I stood on the upper floor, a new suitcase just paid for at my side, and watched them, my heart gone completely numb.
I didn’t bother answering his message. Instead I took out the severing of the blood pact and a handful of other documents, and arranged for a courier to carry them straight to the banquet hall.
Once it was done, I slid my sunglasses on and went straight for the airport.
A few hours later, Salvatore finally finished the shopping with Vittoria and Matteo. They arrived at the hotel, expecting a grand celebration.
Instead, they were told that Adriana had never come.
Salvatore glanced at his watch. More than an hour past the appointed time. Something cold stirred low in his chest. Adriana had never once been late for anything between them.
Just as he reached for his phone to call her, one of his men came running, panic written all over his face.
"Boss. Trouble. The Madam is gone. Someone just had these delivered."
