After Divorce I Left With the Mafia King Babies, Now He Wants Me Back

The closet smelled of cedar and old leather. I pressed myself against the back wall, my fingers trembling around the pregnancy test and the set of brass house keys I had meant to give Alessandro as a surprise. Three years of marriage. Three years of devotion, of building a life brick by careful brick, of believing I was loved. All of it crumbled like ash between my fingers.

Through the slats in the closet door, golden light spilled from the private salon where my husband held court on his birthday. The clink of crystal, the low murmur of men who lived and breathed the code of the underworld. I had not been invited. I had come anyway, slipping through the service entrance of the estate like a ghost in my own home, wanting only to leave the keys on his desk with a card. A foolish, hopeful gesture from a foolish, hopeful wife.

"Are you sure about this, Alessandro?" A voice I recognized as one of his inner circle, casual and loose with wine. "You are not going to invite your wife? Elena?"

"She would just ruin the mood."

The words landed like a slap. I pressed my knuckles against my teeth.

"Man, how long are you going to keep that woman around?" The mocking laughter of my husband's closest associate made me freeze. Tears slid down my cheeks in hot, silent tracks.

"Ginevra has returned from abroad and was asking me if I could set you two up. A proper dinner, just the two of you." A pause. The sound of a match being struck, the bloom of cigar smoke curling through the air. "She will be heartbroken when she finds out you married her little sister."

Someone laughed, low and cruel. "Which one of the two sisters will you choose, Alessandro?"

My teary eyes went wide. A gasp tore from my throat before I could swallow it, and I clutched the wall for support, my nails digging into the wood. How could my husband play with my heart? And with my own sister. No. He had to deny it. He would deny all of it.

Alessandro's deep voice finally cut through the discussion, smooth as the barrel of a polished gun.

"Elena is a substitute doll for Ginevra. She is so broken and unloved that she will do everything to please me. If I commanded that woman to die for me, she would do it without a single question."

Those words struck like a fist to the center of my chest. Sobs racked through my body and I clamped both hands over my mouth, biting down on my own fingers to keep from screaming.

"When are you planning to throw her away, then?" Someone whistled, amused, as though discussing the disposal of a used asset.

"Hmm. Let me think." Alessandro paused, and I could picture him leaning back in his chair, swirling his drink, that handsome face arranged in an expression of lazy cruelty. "Don't you feel pity for an abandoned stray cat in the rain? One that is desperate for love after being discarded by everyone?"

He chuckled. The sound was devoid of warmth.

"Elena is just like that cat. Ignored by her family. Always so trusting that I could not help but play along with her fantasies. She is so naive and innocent that it makes it so much more interesting." He took a slow sip. I heard the glass touch the table. "For now, I will string her along."

My knees buckled. The pregnancy test slipped from my fingers and struck the cold marble floor with a sharp clatter that echoed through the closet like a gunshot.

Silence swallowed the room.

"What was that?"

Chairs scraped. Footsteps moved toward the hallway as the men left the salon to investigate the noise outside.

I pressed my palm against my belly. I forced myself upright, my legs shaking beneath me. I stepped out of the closet, dropped the brass house keys into the trash bin beside the corridor table, and kept walking.

"Mommy is sorry." The whisper left my lips as tears streamed down my face. I ran. Pregnant with Alessandro's children. Twins. Everything I had believed, every tender word, every gentle touch. All of it had been a lie.

…

I stood by the riverside, still deep in shock, the city lights fracturing across the dark water through the blur of my tears. The waves lapped against the stone embankment, pulling back, surging forward. With each step I waded deeper into the receding tide, the icy water soaking through my shoes, climbing my ankles, numbing my calves. Too heartbroken to be repaired. Too shattered to see a way forward.

"Mommy was a fool, my poor babies."

In that moment, only death waited for me in the black water ahead. But then a small kick pulsed inside my stomach. A flutter, barely there, yet fierce enough to paralyze my legs mid-step. I broke down into sobs, my hands cradling my belly, because I realized I could not be so heartless as to kill my unborn children. They had done nothing. They deserved a life, even if I no longer wanted mine.

I turned around. I walked out of the river. I kept walking.

When I finally reached home, still trembling, still in shock, every light in the house blazed. Alessandro was back from his party. I steadied myself on the front steps, wiped the tears from my face with the back of my hand, and pushed open the door to the place I had bought after working three shifts a day at Signora Mancini's trattoria, because my husband had claimed illness and needed my support.

The front door clicked open. The warmth of the foyer hit me, and with it came the memories. Alessandro pulling me into his arms, confessing his love in the kitchen. Whispering promises against my hair while the city slept. Making love to me in the darkness of our bedroom as though I were the only woman alive. Each memory played in my mind like a cruel joke, a film reel of beautiful lies.

"Elena, why are you so late?" He stood in the hallway, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. The concern in his eyes, the warmth in his gaze, was identical to the expression he had worn three years ago when we first met. Practiced. Perfect. Hollow.

"It is my birthday, and I was hoping you would have prepared a surprise." His eyes flicked over my sorry form, taking in the damp hem of my dress, the swollen redness around my eyes. Displeasure tightened his jaw. "But even dinner is not cooked yet."

"How was the party with your friends?" I asked. My voice was flat. Empty. "I thought you already had dinner."

Alessandro went still. A muscle twitched beneath his eye, so brief that anyone else would have missed it.

"It was fun catching up with everyone." He recovered quickly, sliding his hands into his pockets with practiced ease. "But the strangest thing happened. Someone threw a brand new set of house keys in the trash. Can you imagine?" He tilted his head, studying me. "Throwing away something like that. A premium property worth a million dollars."

My fingers trembled at my sides. I could not speak a single word.

"Also, Ginevra is coming back from abroad." He followed me as I walked into our bedroom, his footsteps steady behind mine. "She is hosting a gathering tomorrow and has invited you."

Ginevra. My talented adopted sister. The girl my parents, the Castellano family, had raised for sixteen years before discovering that their real daughter had been exchanged at the hospital. I had been left at an orphanage, raised by Nonna Rosa, a kind old woman with no blood ties to the underworld. Even after the truth came to light and I was brought back into the fold, I was never once loved by my father, Giacomo Castellano, nor by my stepmother Diana, nor by my half-brothers Leonardo and Vittorio, who forgot I existed the moment I walked into a room.

When I did not agree to go immediately, Alessandro sighed. He sat on the edge of the bed and loosened his tie, watching me with those cold, indifferent blue irises.

"Elena, Ginevra is kindhearted and innocent. She wants to improve your relationship with your parents. She has done everything to be a good sister to you." His voice hardened, the undercurrent of command unmistakable. The tone of a man accustomed to obedience. "How can you still be so thoughtless?"

He held my gaze. There would be no room for refusal.

"You will come, right?"

I met my husband's eyes. There was not even a flicker of guilt for how he had treated me like his personal servant all these years. Only those cold blue irises stared back at me, flat as the surface of a frozen lake.

"I will."

He smiled instantly. The anger vanished from his face as though it had never existed, replaced by that charming, effortless warmth that had fooled me for three long years.

When he leaned down to kiss me, I turned my face away. His lips landed on my cheek.

"I am tired."

Astonishment flickered across Alessandro's features. His smile faltered, a crack in the mask.

"Alright. Go to sleep, Elena."

I turned onto my side. A moment later, the mattress dipped as he settled behind me and pulled me into his arms, my back pressed against his chest. His hold was firm. Possessive. The embrace of a man guarding something he considered his property, not something he loved.

"You need to learn, Elena." His lips brushed against my hair, and his voice was soft, almost tender, laced with the quiet menace of a man who believed his patience was a gift. "Everyone is trying hard for you, and you are still throwing a tantrum."

His breathing evened out. Sleep claimed him easily, the way it always did for men unburdened by conscience.

I pressed my lips together so tightly they ached, trapping the sobs inside my chest, refusing to let a single sound escape into the silence of the room.