My Dead Child Was His Greatest Debt

I was so angry I couldn't find the words.

I wanted to go after them, throw a few things back in their faces, but then I glanced at the time. My husband's flight had just touched down.

In the past, I had always been late meeting Lorenzo's plane, and I could still remember the sorrowful look in his eyes whenever I arrived behind schedule, as if every minute apart carried a weight only a man in his position could understand.

Today I'd been at the gym when it hit me that I needed to be there for him, so I rushed over, breathless, not even taking the time to change.

Maybe it was because I was still sweating and my hair was a mess, but Marco must have thought I'd come crawling back to reignite what we'd buried.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself, and walked into the terminal.

I had a husband who loved me. So why let two rabid dogs ruin my mood?

But the moment I stepped into the private members' club where the Family kept its lounge, my brow furrowed.

The room that was usually all hushed voices and careful men had gone loud and chaotic.

The air hung thick with cigar smoke, and men talked over one another and puffed their cigars like they held territory nobody could touch.

Marco sat at the center of it, ringed by hangers-on who fed him praise like tribute.

"Marco, the Amato name is climbing again! That arrangement with the Ashford front operations? It'll put your family back at the table. You'll have a seat with the big men in no time."

"Don't forget your friends when the cash starts flowing, Marco. We're counting on you to spread the wealth."

Marco grinned, drinking in every word. He flicked the lapel of his jacket and lifted his chin, chest swelling with a pride that had always been more performance than power.

Beside him stood Bianca, holding herself like the wife of a boss already, soaking up the flattery like a sponge.

I choked on the smoke, coughing until my eyes watered.

A heavyset man, balding and gruff, waddled over and sneered. "What are you doing here, country girl? This lounge is for people of standing. It's not your resting spot. Out."

I pulled the Family marker of standing from my bag, my patience worn to the thread. "I'm not in the wrong place. I paid for the privilege of being here."

The man opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, Marco came toward me.

His voice was cold, his gaze cutting. "Adriana, is this what you've come to? Begging me for money? And now buying your way into rooms where you don't belong?"

Before I could speak, he tossed a few bills at me, his fingers unhurried, like a man who owned every second in the room. Then, without a flicker of hesitation, he tore my marker clean in half.

"The money's refunded. You're not welcome. Can you leave now?"

My blood boiled, and the words I wanted to scream barely stayed behind my teeth.

I waved down one of the club's attendants, my voice trembling with anger.

The attendant looked me over with a cold eye before answering. "If you refuse the refund, then by the rules of the house, you're still permitted to stay."

I pointed to the no-smoking sign fixed to the wall. "Then have them put out the cigars."

The attendant's gaze hardened. "They've paid their tribute for the privilege. They're free to smoke for the next hour.

"If you can't stand it, you're free to leave."

The words sliced through me, dripping with condescension. "Honestly, some rooms just aren't meant for people like you."

I took a deep breath, forcing myself calm. "I'll take this up with the house."

The attendant's lip curled, contempt in every syllable. "Signora, this lounge belongs to men who matter.

"Your standing alone means that even if you complain, your word carries no weight in a place like this.

"In short, I don't care. Do whatever you want."

Across the room, Marco cast a look at me heavy with disdain, his eyes like a cold blade. "Adriana, three years gone, and you've truly disgraced yourself."

Bianca, ever the actress, arranged her face into concern, the words dripping insincerity. "Adriana, you should go. Staying here will only make a fool of you." Her smile held a half-second too long before it fell, and her fingers touched the corner of her mouth, pressing the mask back into place.

A curious associate leaned toward Marco. "Marco, you know this woman?"

Marco's smile faltered for a single heartbeat before he recovered, his voice smooth but laced with arrogance. "When I was younger, I made a mistake. Ended up bound to the wrong person."

The men around him nodded like they understood the burden. "It happens. These women are all the same. They know how to sink their hooks into a man with money."

"Who hasn't been taken for a fool by some woman in his younger days? Once you see through them, it's no trouble at all."