They were present physically, but emotionally, they had never been with us at all.
We had ignored the truth for far too long. Either their hearts had already moved on, or perhaps they had never loved us from the beginning.
It took losing two lives for me to finally see it clearly.
Lying in bed at the private clinic the Family kept off the books in Bensonhurst, I tried to distract myself by scrolling through my phone, deliberately avoiding anything that might trigger more pain. The room smelled of antiseptic and cold tile, and somewhere beyond the locked door a soldier sat in a folding chair, flipping through a racing form.
But when I opened TikTok, a video on the trending page immediately caught my attention.
It was Viviana's latest post. She looked radiant, basking in attention, proudly showing off the two men she called her childhood friends. The Falcone name hung over every frame like a halo she had borrowed.
There were three photos. One was a group picture of the three of them together at what looked like a private dinner at Rao's. Another was a legal document. And the last was a close-up of her hands gently cradling her stomach.
Her caption read: [Those who truly care for you will always show up before danger does. Thank you, my dearest friends.]
The comment section was overflowing with admiration. People wrote things like, "Where can I find friends like this?" and "You're so lucky, girl!"
A few users even pointed out, "Aren't those the brothers who married those best friends?"
But those comments were quickly buried under waves of praise, disappearing almost instantly.
Just then, Adriana sent me a screenshot of the post. Her message was short, but steady: [Bianca, I don't know why, but I feel nothing when I look at this.]
Another message followed. [Two husbands for one wife. Since they want it so badly, let's just make it official for them.]
I took a deep breath, my chest rising and falling slowly. My thumb rubbed the pale mark where my wedding ring had sat, slow and deliberate, as though pressing down on a bruise I refused to flinch from.
[You're right. This has nothing to do with us anymore. I'm contacting a family counsel for the separation. I've endured enough.]
The consigliere's front office moved quickly. By the very next day, both of our separation petitions were prepared. I had copies sent directly to Dante and Luca's private email addresses, the ones routed through the legitimate hospital and law firm accounts so the Family servers wouldn't flag them first.
Two days passed. Neither of them responded. Not a single word.
The silence dragged on, heavy and exhausting, wearing down what little patience I had left.
Finally, I messaged Dante again. [Have you seen the papers? Please respond.]
His reply came quickly, but it was nothing more than anger.
[Haven't you caused enough trouble? The more you push, the less I want to come home. Stop trying to test me!]
I stared at the message, stunned by his arrogance. How had I never seen this side of him before?
Dante wasn't the man I thought he was. He was nothing more than a self-centered, arrogant fool. The Underboss, the celebrated surgeon, the man whose word moved soldiers and operating rooms alike. And he couldn't send his wife a single honest sentence.
I was about to reply when I heard a soft, sweet voice in the background. "Dante, what are you doing? Come eat. Luca and I have been waiting for you."
A bitter smile formed on my lips. "No wonder you have no time for us. You're too busy with your precious 'sister,' aren't you?"
"Bianca, what's wrong with you?" he snapped. "I'm just helping out. Viviana is pregnant. Unlike you, she can't even handle being in the kitchen."
The word "pregnant" hit me like a punch to the chest. My composure shattered instantly.
"You care so much about someone else's child," I said, my voice trembling. "What about ours, Dante? Did you ever care about me? Or about your own baby?"
His tone turned cold, dismissive. "This is pointless…"
Then Viviana's voice came again, light and amused. "Bianca, we're both expecting mothers. I understand how it feels. Pregnancy hormones can make you emotional. Not everyone is as lucky as me, but don't be too upset."
Her words cut deep, sharper than any blade.
A sharp pain flared from my wound, and I felt my strength draining away. The clinic room pressed inward, the hum of the fluorescent light overhead suddenly unbearable.
Dante's voice softened instantly, filled with concern. "Don't worry about her. Your health is what matters most, Viviana. Whatever you need, I'll be there."
I struggled to breathe as tears streamed uncontrollably down my face.
In these two years, he had never truly cared for me. Not even once. To him, I was nothing more than a convenient presence, something easily replaced. A name on an alliance that kept the peace between families. A body in the pew at Sunday Mass.
Before I could say anything else, the call ended.
The silence that followed was crushing. I let out a broken sob, unable to hold it in any longer. Beyond the door, the soldier's racing form rustled once, then went still.
