I Sent My Husband a Coffin for His Seasonal Depression

My husband claimed his mistress suffered from severe seasonal depression. Every autumn, her mood would plummet, and she would threaten to end her life.

For her, he would cancel three months of work and fly to Europe to help her "relax."

"Elara, Seraphina is in a dark place. Please, don't be upset."

I grew used to his three-month disappearance each year.

Until I went to Monaco for an art auction and saw a five-year-old girl by his side.

"Daddy, why do you only spend three months with Mommy and me every year? I want more, much more time."

My husband picked her up dotingly, then took the hand of Seraphina, who stood beside them.

"Daddy's situation is complicated, sweetheart. There's nothing I can do about it right now. Be a good girl, Stella. When you turn eighteen, Daddy will take you back to Chicago to meet your grandparents."

Without a word, a plan began to form in my mind. I turned and walked away, pretending I had seen nothing.

Autumn passed and winter arrived. My husband called me.

"Seraphina's condition has stabilized. I'll be back tomorrow."

I glanced at the coffin and the prenuptial vow I'd had prepared long ago. A cold smile touched my lips.

"Good. I'll prepare a welcome for you."

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1

It was afternoon at the port of Monte Carlo. My gaze was fixed on the three figures lounging on the deck of a private yacht.

My husband, Dante Falcone, was playing on the deck with a little girl.

"Daddy, why do you only spend three months with Mommy and me every year? I want more, much more time."

A dull roar filled my ears, and my head went numb.

Since when did Dante have a child?

I must have misheard.

Or… maybe he doted on Seraphina's daughter, had even made her his goddaughter. In her innocence, the child had simply misspoke.

Seraphina snuggled against Dante's shoulder, her voice a whiny, coquettish complaint.

"I've been with you for seven years without any real status, Dante. Stella is five now. Are you really going to make us wait another thirteen years?"

Dante sighed, a note of helplessness in his voice.

"There's nothing I can do, Seraphina. The Falcone and Moretti families have intermarried for generations. Marrying Elara was a necessity. She will always be my wife, the future Donna of the Falcone family—though in name only. If she found out about you two, knowing the Morettis, I'm afraid of what they'd do to you."

He paused, his tone firming.

"Don't worry. According to Falcone family rules, a child has inheritance rights at eighteen. As my blood, Stella will be able to claim her inheritance then. By that time, even if Elara finds out, it'll be too late for her to do anything."

Seraphina seemed convinced. She sighed softly and stroked her own belly.

"Alright. But you can't have children with her. Otherwise, my Stella and the one in my belly will be cast aside in the future."

Dante gently placed a hand on Seraphina's still-flat stomach.

"Don't worry. Having Stella and this son is enough for me."

His voice dropped lower.

"As for Elara, I've been secretly switching her medication. She won't get pregnant. The Falcones are done being tied to the Morettis. This cursed bond ends with me."

Snap.

Something inside me snapped.

So that was it.

Six years of marriage, and no pregnancy. I had gotten myself checked; I was perfectly healthy, but I just couldn't conceive.

Donna Francesca had even offered me gentle comfort.

"Take your time. Having children depends on fate."

So, it was him pulling the strings all along.

The initial shock and heartache curdled into pure rage. My hands, trembling, balled into tight fists as I pulled out my phone.

"Aunt, Dante Falcone betrayed me. I'm invoking the Moretti family code."

"Have a coffin custom-made for me. One that can fit a family of three."