The headline caught my eye before I even realized what I was looking at.
"Adrian Romano and Viviana Vitale spotted at exclusive charity auction—sparks still flying after all these years."
My heart stopped, a sharp ache spreading through my chest.
I sat frozen, staring at my phone screen as if it had betrayed me. There they were, Adrian and Viviana, dressed to perfection, glowing as if the world revolved around them. They stood close, smiling at each other with an intimacy that turned my stomach.
The photos were everywhere. Viviana's hand lightly brushed his arm, a soft, deliberate touch, and his gaze lingered on her face, warm and familiar. They looked like a perfect couple, the kind you'd see in one of those society-page spreads the neighborhood wives passed around after Sunday Mass, radiating elegance and charm.
And to think he told me he was handling business for the Family up in Atlantic City.
This wasn't business. The auction wasn't a professional engagement. It was a date.
I scrolled further, my hands trembling as I read the article. The words painted a nauseating picture of their chemistry, their "undeniable connection." Each sentence felt like a knife twisting deeper into my chest.
I dropped my phone onto the couch as my vision blurred. My chest tightened, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe. The betrayal I had convinced myself wasn't real was now staring me in the face, undeniable and merciless.
But then, I thought of my baby.
I rested my hand gently on my stomach, closing my eyes as I took a slow, deep breath. This life growing inside me, so innocent, so pure, didn't deserve to be tainted by my pain. It didn't matter how shattered I felt. This baby was a blessing, a light in the darkness, and I would cherish it no matter what.
I had to be strong. Not for myself, but for my child.
That's why I decided to go to the clinic.
The sterile scent of the private Family doctor's office didn't calm my nerves, but the warmth of the doctor's smile did. As the ultrasound wand glided over my stomach, the rhythmic flicker of the baby's heartbeat filled the room.
"Everything looks perfect," the doctor said, pointing to the screen. "You're carrying a healthy baby."
Tears welled up in my eyes, but this time, they weren't from sadness. Relief washed over me, soft and warm, breaking through the layers of hurt. For the first time in weeks, I felt something other than pain.
I felt hope.
After leaving the clinic, I knew what I had to do next.
I made my way to the Romano shipping offices on the waterfront, a building that had once felt like a second home. But now, as I stood before the heavy double doors with their frosted glass panels and the Romano crest etched above the lintel, I felt like an outsider.
The lobby was polished marble and quiet authority, the staff greeting me politely but with surprised glances. Soldiers posted near the stairwell tracked my movement without turning their heads.
I clutched the resignation letter tightly in my hand. I stopped a passing secretary and asked, "Is Mr. Romano in his office?"
"Yes, ma'am, but you can't go in right now," she said, her tone nervous.
"Why not? I'm his wife," I said firmly, narrowing my eyes.
The woman hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. "Mr. Romano has an important visitor, and he doesn't want to be disturbed."
I blinked, stunned. "An important visitor? Who?"
She avoided my gaze, her voice faltering. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I can't say."
My chest tightened, anger simmering beneath my shock. He hadn't even told me he was back from his so-called trip to Atlantic City.
"I'm his wife," I repeated, more forcefully this time.
But she only shook her head. "I'm sorry, ma'am. He left strict instructions."
I clenched my jaw and nodded, forcing myself to appear calm. "Fine," I said, my voice clipped.
But I wasn't leaving.
I waited until she walked away before slipping into the hallway leading to Adrian's office. The corridor was dim, the kind of quiet that meant the men who usually stood outside had been sent away on purpose.
The door was slightly ajar, and I hesitated for a brief moment, my heart pounding. A part of me knew I shouldn't look, that whatever I saw would only hurt me more.
But curiosity and pain pushed me forward.
I peeked inside, and the air was knocked out of me.
Adrian stood by his desk, and Viviana was in his arms. Their faces were close, far too close. Then, as if on cue, his lips met hers. My breath hitched. It felt like my entire world had collapsed in an instant.
They kissed, completely oblivious to the world around them. The way his hand rested on her waist, the way her smile melted into his. It was as if nothing else mattered. Not the Family. Not the oath he'd taken at the altar of St. Cecilia's. Not the child growing inside me.
I wanted to storm in, to scream, to shatter the perfect little bubble they had created for themselves.
But I didn't.
Instead, I reached for my phone with trembling hands. I snapped a photo, the camera capturing the exact moment Viviana looked up at him with that same sickening smile I'd seen in the auction pictures.
It was perfect.
I turned my back and just left the resignation letter on my desk for him to see once I was gone. Then I walked back to my car. Once inside, I stared at the photo, the image seared into my mind. I opened a dummy account on social media, uploaded the picture, and sent it directly to Nico Carbone, Viviana's husband.
Back home, I packed everything Adrian had given me over the past five years and carried the boxes downstairs. I lit the fire and burned them all into ashes.
As I watched the flames roar to life, Viviana appeared out of nowhere and without even saying a word kicked those boxes. It sent embers and photos flying all over the place, even on her face, but she just smiled.
I blinked in shock. "Viviana, what are you doing?"
"Oh, sorry! I just slipped. I didn't mean to do it," she acted innocent while still keeping that smile. "Wait, are these photos of you and Adrian? Why are you burning them? Did you finally realize how useless you are to him and you don't deserve these things?"
I raised my brow. "Excuse me?"
"I'm just saying how you couldn't protect your mother back then… you know, how she died… and you were so useless!"
My thumbnail pressed hard into the inside of my wedding band until the skin paled. Then I stopped.
It made me boil. Without thinking, I slapped her across her face. It wasn't even that hard but she fell straight into the fire.
