I'd always known the dowager didn't like me. In Concetta Falcone's eyes I wasn't fit to stand beside her son, nowhere near as charming as Vittoria Sabatini, the pretty, sweet-talking girl from the cadet branch who'd been his childhood sweetheart.
It was only after Vittoria was married off and sent abroad, and I fell pregnant with the bloodline heir, that she grudgingly acknowledged me as the Don's wife, and only for the child's sake.
Even then, every time we sat at the same table, there was no shortage of cold jabs, no shortage of quiet mockery meant for me to hear.
Back then Dominic would always speak up for me, smooth a few words over. He was the one who'd insisted on taking me out that day, past the family's storefronts on the protected streets, saying he wanted to buy something for the child who was almost here.
But now his eyes were fixed on Vittoria, brimming with a tenderness he made no effort to hide.
Vittoria carried Matteo over to his side and looped her arm playfully through his.
"Dominic, did you hear? The dowager is taking me as her goddaughter. So, my dear big brother, don't you have a gift ready for your little sister?"
Dominic pinched her cheek, helpless and doting.
"You little troublemaker. Don't call me big brother."
That was what he said. Yet he had a soldier bring out ninety-two designer fur coats, jewelry already matched to go with each one, laid out across the long table like tribute.
"I know you love pretty things, but you're still recovering. You can't catch a chill. Winter runs three months, ninety-two days, so you can switch them out."
Vittoria kissed him on the cheek, delighted as a giddy young girl.
"Half of these are pieces from the house's next three years, limited editions too. You actually got them for me ahead of everyone. Dominic, you really are the only one who spoils me."
"But you've given me so much. Won't Adriana be upset?"
When she said my name, her fingers drifted to the hollow of her throat, and her laugh came a half-beat too fast.
Next to those gleaming, priceless furs, my clothes with the dried blood still on them made me look more and more like a clown.
Dominic paused, as if only then remembering I was still standing there, and said awkwardly,
"Adriana, it's not what you think. Vittoria's used to living abroad, you know how it is. The customs over there are more open."
"And these clothes. I heard she just had a baby too, with her husband away. We did grow up together, after all. I only wanted to..."
Before he could finish, Matteo suddenly started crying. Vittoria gasped,
"Oh no, is Matteo hungry again? Mommy will take you upstairs and feed you right now."
Then she turned to me with a show of apology.
"Adriana, don't get the wrong idea. I'm just so used to soothing my own baby. And every time I say it like that, Matteo calms right down and gets so happy."
She started toward the stairs with the child. In her arms, Matteo went utterly still and stared at me across the room, unblinking, the way he always did when I came near, until the two women nearest me shifted uneasily under that gaze.
Then Vittoria sagged into Dominic's arms, her voice going faint.
"Dominic, I feel a little dizzy..."
Dominic shoved me away at once and caught her, his face taut with alarm.
"How could this happen? It must be the weakness after the birth. I told you to rest properly at the clinic. Come, I'll carry you up."
My right leg was still bandaged. With that shove I went down hard, landing on the floor, pain shooting through me.
But Dominic didn't spare me a single glance. In front of everyone gathered, in front of the whole Family, he swept Vittoria up like a bride and carried her and Matteo up the stairs.
Every one of them looked at me with scorn, their voices thick with contempt and disgust.
"No wonder the Don dotes on Vittoria. Pretty as she is, and so kind too, willing to nurse someone else's child. Not like this useless thing. Shabby, not fit to be seen at his table, can't even stand a little pain in her leg, so she takes medicine while nursing. Selfish through and through."
"Someone like that deserves to be a mother? To me, Vittoria's the one who's more like Matteo's mother. She loves him more, and he even looks a bit like her. The child must be ashamed of Adriana too, doesn't want to take after her. Vittoria and Dominic suit each other so well. Such a shame the alliance never joined them back then."
The dowager not only refused to defend me. She looked at me with even deeper loathing, smoothed the black lace of her sleeve with two slow, flat strokes, and snapped,
