I Gave Him Seven Years, He Gave Me a Coffin Instead of a Child

When I got pregnant, my husband fell for the young, delicate courier he'd brought into his crew.

On New Year's Eve, he and that courier, draped in a red gown, were celebrating the holiday in a private room at one of the Family's clubs, raising glasses to "good fortune."

When I barged in, she lifted her pale neck, the red marks blooming dark against her throat.

"Don't misunderstand us, Mrs. Moretti! The New Year's coming, and I'm just helping Lorenzo shake off the bad luck and bring in the good!"

My husband fixed me with a look and snarled that I'd interrupted him.

"You're pregnant and can't see to my needs. I'm a normal man, Serafina. Gemma's only being considerate, helping out."

At seven months along, the stress and fury made my water break.

But the courier told him I'd wet myself on purpose, just to make a scene.

My husband decided I'd come to shame him in front of the crew, so he locked me in the bathroom.

He spent the next three days and nights indulging with her before he finally ended the punishment.

Unfortunately, when he finally opened the door, his face went pale at the sight of my deflated belly.

——

On New Year's Eve, my husband, Lorenzo Moretti, had plans with his crew, but I stayed home because of the baby.

As the night deepened, a message came from Lorenzo, then an address. It read, [Tesoro, I have a surprise for you.]

I went to the club to bring him home, cradling my round belly. But the joy in my heart was doused like a flame under cold water the moment I opened the door.

The room was thick with smoke and reeked of liquor.

Gemma Castellano, the courier Lorenzo kept close, had glassy eyes and ears flushed red, perched on his lap, the picture of seductive innocence.

Lorenzo's veined hand gripped her waist tight. The gown she wore was hiked up to her hips, her shoulders shamelessly bare.

That deep crimson gown was a masterpiece, hand-stitched by an old Sicilian seamstress for my wedding.

Lorenzo had taken it without a word and repurposed it for his twisted appetite.

Gemma's thin, pale waist and half-draped figure burned my eyes.

"Lorenzo, please, love me gently. Slow down."

"You little devil. You beg for it five times a day, then still play shy."

They kissed and kissed, hungry, utterly oblivious to anyone watching. The men around them barely stirred, as if such a display were nothing new.

I finally understood who had sent that message.

Lorenzo's crew lounged easy, each with a girl in his arms, watching the scene with lazy amusement.

One of his soldiers, Vince, cracked the knuckles of one hand slow against his palm and smirked.

"You look stunning tonight, Miss Castellano! No wonder Lorenzo left his wife at home to ring in the New Year with us."

Lorenzo, holding Gemma's waist firmly, exhaled and smiled.

"Marrying a virtuous wife has its perks, but it comes with... limitations. Serafina's too reserved for certain things, so a man needs an outlet. I know how to keep my priorities straight."

"Besides, ever since she got pregnant, Serafina's gone fat as a pig and never puts herself together. It's repulsive. She hasn't got an ounce of the charm Gemma has."

Gemma pouted, tracing slow circles on Lorenzo's chest with one delicate hand. "Lorenzo, you're awful! What do you take me for? I'm a good girl from a good family."

Her fingers drifted to the hollow of her throat as though the praise had overwhelmed her.

"Yes, yes. Happy New Year, my good girl."

Reaching into his pocket, he drew out a glittering diamond necklace and slipped it into the loose front of her gown. She giggled and leaned deeper into him.

Someone in the room laughed. "Lorenzo, you've got nerve! Aren't you afraid your wife finds out and demands a severance before the Family?"

Lorenzo waved the comment off, twisting the heavy gold signet ring on his pinky, untroubled. "And if she knows, so what? She's carrying my child and loves me too much to leave. Where could she possibly go?"

Then came the obscene sounds of their flirting.

"Lorenzo's a goddamn legend!"

My stomach churned violently at their words, a wave of nausea rising. With a pale face, I pushed the door open.

My arrival broke the room's laughter in an instant.

Lorenzo scrambled to snatch a coat from the sofa, hurriedly draping it over Gemma's bare shoulders.

I found it almost laughable. My fists clenched tight at my sides, and I spoke, my voice laced with anger.