On Our Ninth Anniversary, He Brought His Pregnant Mistress Home

Dominic's POV

Salvatore Winslow's eightieth birthday was the kind of gathering that demanded appearances, smiles, honor, and an iron-tight grip on image.

I arrived at the grand hall of the Valente estate with Serafina on my arm. Her belly was beginning to show now, enough to draw attention. Whispers floated from the crowd, but none of it mattered. I kept my face blank, unmoved. Soldiers straightened as I passed. Wives looked away from Serafina and then looked back, unable to help themselves.

Only when my grandfather himself entered did I let go of Serafina's hand. He wasn't just the retired Don. He was the founding patriarch of the Valente Family, the man who'd built this territory from nothing, and the last living voice that still carried weight with the Commission. And I knew he had always loved her like a real daughter.

"Where is Bianca?" Salvatore asked me directly. His cane tapped once against the marble floor, and the nearest conversations went quiet.

"She's been busy preparing a gift for your birthday." I shifted my weight, trying to sound more certain than I felt. "She'll arrive later."

He studied me for a moment but said nothing.

Two hours passed.

The gift-giving was just about to begin, but still no sign of Bianca. I kept glancing at the doors, trying to act like I wasn't waiting, but the restless thing inside me was pacing, clawing at my ribs. The longer she stayed gone, the more I could feel the nerves crawling up my spine. I rolled my wedding band with my thumb, slowly, back and forth. Where the hell was she?

Just as I was about to step out and call someone, a courier walked in, carrying three neatly wrapped packages.

The courier looked between me and Salvatore, unsure who to address, fingers tightening slightly around the packages as if they were heavier than they looked.

"Delivery for Don Winslow," he announced respectfully. "They're from Donna Bianca."

My heart stopped at the mention of her name.

I cleared my throat. "Give them to me."

He hesitated. "I was told to deliver them directly to the Don. Her instructions were very clear."

Of course they were.

I stepped aside and gestured toward my grandfather. "Then do as she asked."

Salvatore was in the middle of a quiet exchange with another old-guard patriarch when the courier approached. He nodded respectfully and said, "This is from Donna Bianca, sir. She's wishing you a happy birthday."

The old man blinked, surprised. "Why didn't she deliver them herself? Where's my granddaughter-in-law?"

The courier gave a small shake of his head. "I'm sorry, sir. I was only told to deliver these to you. Nothing more."

Salvatore looked visibly dismayed, his eyes shadowed with confusion. Still, he accepted the gifts with quiet grace and carefully placed them on the table beside him, his hand lingering on one box as if hoping it might speak for her.

I walked over to my grandfather's side, wanting a closer look. "Do you want me to open them for you?"

He shook his head. "No. I'll do it."

Inside was an intricate embroidery piece, a tapestry of the family's patron saints gathered in blessing over a long life. It had taken her months to complete. I knew, because I'd seen her fingers bleed while stitching it.

The old man's eyes moistened.

He opened the second gift with a slower hand this time, as if he too was beginning to sense where this was going. It was a velvet box. Inside lay the heirloom jewelry passed down from his late wife, the same pieces Bianca had worn on our wedding day.

My throat tightened, and my palms started to sweat. Why would she send this back?

Then came the third box.

I couldn't take it anymore. My hands moved on their own as I reached forward and snatched the final package. My grandfather gave me a sharp look, but he didn't stop me.

I tore open the third gift box roughly and directly.

However, when I saw clearly what was inside, I suddenly turned pale and froze in place.