The blow knocked me back two stumbling steps.
The right side of my face went up in a hot, stinging blaze, and a sharp ringing filled my ears.
I pressed a hand to my cheek and lifted my head, unable to believe it.
Dante looked startled by what he'd done too.
His hand was still frozen in midair, a flicker of shock in his eyes.
But the moment his gaze caught the red rims of Vittoria's eyes, that hesitation vanished.
In its place came disappointment and disgust.
"Adriana, that's enough!"
"Vittoria calls out your lie, and you raise a hand to her?"
"You ran wires for the Family once, always preaching about the truth, and now you'll even curse your own dead."
"Aren't you afraid it'll come back on you?"
His eyes dropped coldly to the swell of my belly.
"Build up some good faith for the child in there too."
"Apologize to Vittoria right now, or take your things and get out."
"Cause one more scene and I'll have the soldiers put you out on the street."
With that, he turned and led Vittoria out, his body between her and me like a shield.
From start to finish, he never looked at me again.
And I just stood there, soaked through.
That filthy sweater clutched against me.
As if I were holding the last trace of my mother's warmth.
By the time I reached the apartment, the rain had turned to a downpour.
Water dripped down from my hair.
Rinsing over the filth on the sweater.
But no matter how I scrubbed, the stains would not come out.
Like a heart already rotted through.
That whole night I sat in the dark of the front room and never closed my eyes.
Near dawn, I took out the dissolution papers from the drawer, already signed, the ones Salvatore had drawn up to sever the union quietly, without a sit-down, without dragging the Family into it.
I had meant to leave us both a last shred of dignity.
But now I could see.
There was no point.
I tore the pages apart, bit by bit.
Snow-white scraps scattered across the floor.
Dante was right.
A wire's whole purpose is to bring the truth back to the table.
So be it.
I owed it to everyone to lay the truth out in front of them.
Deep in the night.
A cold touch spread across my face.
I opened my eyes slowly.
Dante had come back at some hour I hadn't noticed.
He was holding a tube of ointment, the kind he kept in his bag for soldiers bleeding out on a kitchen table, carefully dabbing it onto my swollen cheek.
The air was thick with the smell of his medicines, that off-the-books clinic smell that clung to everything he touched.
When he saw me wake, he visibly relaxed.
"Adriana."
"Does it still hurt?"
"I'm sorry. I lost my temper today."
There was a rare note of guilt in his voice.
"But you shouldn't have humiliated Vittoria in front of all those people either."
"She's an unmarried girl, and she runs a club with its doors open to half the neighborhood."
"Her standing matters to her."
I watched him in silence.
And suddenly it all felt absurd.
My parents weren't even cold in the ground.
I'd just lost the baby.
And he'd come back in the dead of night, not to apologize.
Not to comfort me.
But to win justice for another woman.
I brushed his hand away.
"And so?"
Dante was quiet for a moment.
Then he pressed his thumb hard into one knuckle, then the next, and finally said what he'd really come for.
"So could you stand up and apologize to Vittoria, where people can hear it?"
"Just say all those things earlier were you talking nonsense, out of your head."
"A woman carrying a child says wild things. Everyone will understand."
"Two nights from now is the second anniversary of Vittoria's club."
"You know everyone worth knowing in the network, all the right mouths. Put the word out for her while you're at it."
"Then the whole thing dies quiet."
I stared at the ointment in his hand.
And suddenly that clinic smell turned my stomach worse than the stench from the litter box.
"Dante."
"I'll ask you one last time."
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
He avoided my eyes.
But his voice was unusually firm.
"Vittoria's been crying so hard."
"Think of it as making it up to her."
"And as building good faith for our child."
"Just promise me, and I'll come with you to every checkup from here on."
"Once the baby's born, I'll be twice as good to you both."
And suddenly I saw it.
That boy who once slipped me orange hard candy.
He really was dead.
After a long silence, I suddenly smiled.
I turned my mother's plain knitted band twice around my finger, slow, and the warmth left me without a sound.
"All right."
"I promise."
Dante visibly relaxed.
He even reached out, happy, as if to hold me.
But just then his phone started buzzing wildly against the table.
He glanced at the screen.
And his eyes softened in an instant.
I didn't have to guess who it was.
Sure enough, the next second.
He turned and walked out again, without a moment's hesitation.
And this time.
I couldn't even feel the heartbreak anymore.
