"Theo, do you have any idea what's going on right now? And you're still trying to use a baby to back me into a corner?"
My expression went cold too, my voice raw with grief:
"You've already sent out wedding invitations with her. What corner is there left to back you into?"
Arthur froze for a moment, then gently stroked my hair and softened his tone:
"Theo, I can explain. Adriana and I aren't what you think. We're…"
His phone rang right then. A ringtone different from his usual one. If I had to guess, it was the one he'd set just for Adriana Valente.
In five years, that ringtone had only gone off a handful of times. Every single time, Arthur would claim it was some arrangement overseas and slip out to the balcony to take the call.
This time was no different. He went to the balcony again.
Through the glass door, I saw the corner of his mouth lift, his eyes bright with a warmth he couldn't hide. The same mouth that had just been explaining away wedding invitations.
I read his lips clearly:
"I'm coming to the airport to pick you up right now."
Arthur came back into the room and looked at me with an awkward, apologetic expression:
"Theo, something urgent just came up with the Family. I have to go handle it."
I stared straight into his eyes and kept staring, until he looked away first. The heir apparent to the Falcone syndicate, the man soldiers stepped aside for, the man whose word ended arguments in back rooms across the city. He couldn't hold my gaze.
Then he leaned down, kissed my forehead, and said in that coaxing tone he used like I was a Heir:
"Since my Theo doesn't want me to leave, then no matter how important it is, I'll stay."
Every other time he'd said something like that, I would nod and tell him to go take care of business. I was always the understanding one. The woman who asked no questions, who honored a private omertà she'd never been formally sworn to.
But this time, I didn't play along.
Instead, I followed his lead and said softly:
"Okay. Then stay with me."
Arthur said nothing. He just frowned at me. His signet ring turned once, slow, over the second knuckle of his right hand.
I shook my head, suddenly feeling how pointless all of this was, and smiled:
"I'm kidding. Go, go take care of it."
The tension in his shoulders finally loosened. Out of habit, he reached over and stroked my hair again.
"Theo, I'll explain the wedding invitations. I promise. Don't overthink things."
"I told you, we'll always be together. And if you want a baby later, we can have one. Just not now. Give it another two years, and you can have as many as you want."
A bleak coldness spread through my chest. So what he meant was that I'd have to wait until Adriana had their heir first, the Heir that would seal the Falcone-Valente alliance in blood, and only then would I be allowed to give birth to some unacknowledged baby carrying no name, no standing, nothing.
I didn't ask the question. There was no point anymore.
Arthur left in a hurry. The safehouse door closed behind him and the deadbolt turned, operated from the outside by one of his soldiers. It wasn't until eleven that night that he finally texted me:
"Theo, something urgent came up and I have to travel for Family business. I'll be back in a week. Be good and rest up at home. When I'm back, I'll take you to Ireland like you always wanted!"
I took a few deep breaths, trying to push past the sharp pain in my chest, then typed back a single word:
"Fine."
The next day, I went to the hospital alone for the procedure.
The clinic wasn't one of the Family doctors. I'd found it myself, paid cash, given a name that didn't connect to anything. Lying on that cold operating table, feeling the life inside me slip away, the pain in my heart dulled into numbness.
My hand moved, unthinking, toward the space below my ribs. Then I forced it back to my side.
Tears ran from the corners of my eyes. Five years with Arthur Falcone ended right there on that table.
After I was discharged, I went back to the safehouse and packed everything that was mine. I didn't take a single thing he'd ever given me. Not the jewelry, not the coats, not the keys to the apartment he kept in my name downtown.
I pulled down the photo wall in the living room. Every frame held a picture of us from some trip, pressed close together, smiling. I cut every last one of them in half and threw them in the trash.
The morning I left, I scrolled past a video on my phone of what people were calling the most extravagant alliance ceremony the city's families had ever seen. The cathedral steps lined with black cars. Made men in their best suits. Roses by the thousand.
In the video, Arthur recited his vows with the same tender devotion he'd had the day he first confessed his feelings to me.
I never doubted that his love had been real. But real love could change in a heartbeat.
I placed the pregnancy report and the discharge papers side by side on the nightstand. Then I wound my Sinclair's star-stitched ribbon tight around two fingers, pulled it against my palm until the edges bit, and let go. I grabbed my suitcase and walked out without looking back.
I had barely reached the airport when my phone started buzzing nonstop.
