Eight Graves Later, I Stopped Loving Him

“Lorenzo, I think I twisted my ankle just now. It hurts so much,” Carmela said, all pouty, one hand pressed to the swell of her belly.

Lorenzo didn’t say a word. He simply swept Carmela up into his arms and carried her toward the upstairs bedroom, not even sparing me a glance. The soldiers stationed at the foot of the staircase stepped aside without a sound, eyes lowered, as a man does when the Don has chosen his path and no one is foolish enough to stand in it.

Meanwhile, Donna shot me a pointed look. Her fingers found the crucifix at her throat and began to roll it slowly between them.

“Not only can you not give this Family a son, you can’t even keep your own husband. If Matteo hadn’t taken Carmela first, do you think my Lorenzo would have ever looked at you? And you have the nerve to eat at my table. Get upstairs. You ruin my appetite just by breathing the same air,” she said, her voice dripping with cold sarcasm, the cross still turning under her thumb like a curse said as a prayer.

I had always known Donna despised me.

She saw me as the woman the underboss had passed over, the one who had clung to her son and made him a laughingstock in front of the whole Family. After eight engineered losses, her contempt had only sharpened into something with an edge.

Because she was Lorenzo’s mother, I tried to tell myself the fault was mine for failing to carry a child. I felt the guilt of it, especially in the days when Lorenzo would step between us and shield me from her tongue.

I endured it all.

Tonight, though, Lorenzo was so consumed by Carmela that he seemed to have forgotten I existed at all.

For a brief moment, I considered laying the truth bare across that table. I pushed the thought down as quickly as it rose.

I had already decided to break from this Family and run. So what was the point of saying anything?

I went upstairs in silence and noticed Carmela’s bedroom door standing slightly ajar.

Something pulled me toward it.

What I saw made my heart freeze. Carmela, her clothes pulled askew, lay on the bed with Lorenzo above her.

“Lorenzo, you’re still the one who looks after me best. Matteo can’t give you an heir, and if you let Adriana carry your son, he loses the bloodline. If that happens... I don’t know how much suffering they’ll put me through.”

Lorenzo’s breath broke between movements, his eyes gone dark with want. “Is Matteo good to you? Has he raised a hand to you?”

“Since the pregnancy he treats me like I’m made of glass. Terrified I’ll tire myself. He washes my feet with his own hands. He’s gentler with me than ever.”

Lorenzo’s expression turned faintly bitter. “As long as he’s good to you... as long as you’re happy... I have no regrets.”

“Lorenzo, you’ve given up so much for me. I couldn’t be your wife, but I can give you this. Tonight, I’m yours.”

Lorenzo could hold himself back no longer, and the two of them came together harder, the bed frame knocking against the wall.

I never knew that the cold, controlled Don, the man whose stillness silenced rooms, could lose himself like this.

Tears fell as I stumbled back to my own bedroom. My thumb found the bare ring finger and pressed against it, reaching for a band that no longer sat there.

Lorenzo didn’t come back the whole night.

The next morning, Lorenzo looked at me with eyes full of guilt. He smoothed the lapel of his jacket with one slow pass of his hand.

“Adriana, I meant to come back to you last night. My mother kept me until dawn, going on and on. I just... couldn’t get free.”

I didn’t name the lie. I only turned toward the door to wait for him.

A bucket of kitchen scraps came down over me without warning, and Carmela stepped in front of me, the slop pail still in her hands, a mocking smile on her mouth.

“Adriana, did you enjoy the show? Watching Lorenzo come undone over me?” The corner of her mouth lifted a half-second too early, a flicker of triumph she couldn’t quite swallow.

So she had left the door open on purpose.

“Losing a child doesn’t feel good, does it? But you won’t have to worry about that anymore. You’ll never carry one again.”

“If you ever found the nerve to get pregnant again, I’d make you understand the consequences. You will not take my place as the Don’s true woman.”

“For me, Lorenzo didn’t just give up the bloodline to Matteo. He helped me carry this child. And those babies you lost? They became my... supplements.”

My head snapped up, my voice shaking. “What did you just say?”

Carmela laughed softly. “What? Did you never wonder why, every time you lost one, Lorenzo told you the child was already buried, that you couldn’t see it? Because I told him to keep it from you. Consuming them... it’s good for my health.”

Despair, rage, and disbelief hit me all at once.

So that was why Lorenzo never let me see my children.

How could he?

Everything that happened... all of it... was for Carmela?