He Planned a Fake Wedding, So I Took Our Son and Vanished

I was clearing out my desk in the back office of the social club when Vivian walked in.

"I'm taking the whole crew out tonight. Come along, why don't you?"

She smiled at me.

"I'm busy."

I turned her down flatly and gathered my things to leave. Behind me, her voice followed.

"Ten years at his side. So what? It doesn't equal one glance from Lorenzo."

This time, all I could do was stay silent.

That afternoon.

Vivian posted in the inner-circle chat: Got my seat at the table today. Dinner's on me, everyone come out.

Lorenzo did nothing to stop it. He was the first to reply, and afterward he sent me a message.

Don't read too much into it, sweetheart.

I didn't answer.

That night.

Lorenzo and Vivian and the rest of the men were out somewhere, enjoying their dinner, glasses raised over neutral ground.

I was at home, packing.

"Mom."

Marco ran over and tugged at my hand. "Mom, are you leaving? Can't you wait a few days?"

"Tomorrow's my birthday. You said there'd be a big surprise. I'm going to wish that the two of you never split up. That Dad won't marry Aunt Vivian!"

"He'll say yes, I know he will!"

His small face was lost, the words tumbling out in no order at all.

"Okay."

I nodded gently, my thumb turning the wedding band a half-rotation before I caught myself.

Lorenzo didn't come home all night.

Marco and I didn't sleep at all.

"Dad's getting my surprise ready, I just know it!"

Marco watched the window, the morning light on his face as he said it. He'd gone very still, the way he did, staring down at his own small hands.

But one hour, then two. Right up until the sky went dark again, Lorenzo still hadn't come back.

I couldn't stop myself from calling him. "Today is your son's birthday. Where's the surprise you promised him?"

"Oh, that. It's in the nightstand. There are plane tickets to Scandinavia. Take Marco and go on a trip!"

Lorenzo was laughing. "I'm slammed today. I have to go."

The line cut off in a hurry.

I turned and took the tickets out of the nightstand.

So Marco had become an obstacle too, one more thing in the way of Lorenzo getting what he wanted.

Almost in the same moment.

That account Lorenzo kept under a soldier's name posted to its feed again.

Bound for life. When you love her, you give her everything she wants.

The picture attached was a stake in the Falcone empire, signed over in his own hand.

My hand closed into a fist.

Ten years.

I'd worked myself to the bone for the Falcone Family, brokering sit-downs no one else could survive, carrying the weight of ten men alone.

From the rules that kept the crew in line to the territory we pushed into, from the truces with rival Families to the docks we held, every one of those calls I'd hammered out, racking my brain over them.

And I drew the rank of any ordinary associate.

Now everything I'd built had been picked clean by Vivian, a woman who'd put in nothing at all.

"Mom."

"Dad's not coming, is he?"

My son's crying reached me.

I turned to look. He was clutching his phone, shaking, and on the screen Vivian's girl, Gemma Vitale, had posted to her feed too.

Thank you, Dad, for the little cake you made me yourself!

For a child, there's no blow that lands harder.

"Mom."

"I don't want to stay here anymore. Will you take me with you?"

Marco wiped at his tears.

"Okay."

I nodded, my own eyes wet, and finished the packing. I left the papers that broke me from the Family behind, slid the wedding band off and set it beside them, took Marco by the hand, and walked out the door.

We boarded the flight to Scandinavia.

...

Lorenzo and Vivian held their wedding, took a few days away, and didn't come home at all afterward. He went straight back to the social club for the standing sit-down.

His eyes swept the room, and he asked, puzzled, "Where's my wife? How come she's not here?"

Every man at the table shook his head.

"Don't tell me she's still out having too much fun," Lorenzo muttered, getting up and stepping out of the room to call me.

"Hey, sweetheart!"

"You never come in late. How come I didn't see you at the table? Are you not back from Scandinavia yet?"