Omertà of the Heart

On the night of our ninth wedding anniversary, my husband, Dominic Valente, brought his pregnant mistress home to the compound.

With a voice as flat and measured as if he were reading terms at a sit-down, he laid out a few instructions.

"Daniela is particular about what she eats. From now on, every meal is to be different. See to it."

"She's fragile and can't sleep alone, so pack your things and move to the guest room at the end of the hall."

Without bothering to respond, I picked up the suitcase I had already prepared and walked calmly toward the door.

The housekeeper tried to stop me, but Dominic let out a cold laugh.

"Let her throw her little tantrum. She'll come crawling back in less than three days anyway."

The moment he said it, the room erupted in laughter. His soldiers by the foyer, the housekeeper, even the courier who'd driven Daniela in from the city.

Right in front of me, they placed a two-million-dollar bet. Two million in cash, counted out on the marble table in the entrance hall, wagering I wouldn't even make it through the night before begging Dominic to let me back in like a pathetic little lapdog.

But what they didn't know was that a black Maybach was already idling beyond the estate gates, headlights dark, engine running.

This time, I was truly leaving.

——

Just as I stepped past the heavy iron doors of the compound, Dominic called out behind me.

"Seraphina. Leave the safety bracelet. Daniela's been having nightmares lately, and she needs it more than you do."

My body went stiff.

That bracelet was the only thing my parents left me. The last piece of the Rossetti name that hadn't been bartered away, sold off, or absorbed into someone else's empire.

As I faced him, Dominic saw the redness in my eyes but remained indifferent. He stood in the doorway with one hand in his pocket, the silver lighter turning slowly between the fingers of the other.

"Name your price," he said.

How much could nine years of groveling in a loveless, blood-bound marriage possibly be worth?

I didn't bother calculating.

All I could remember was what happened the last time I refused to give Daniela something she wanted. My ski goggles, of all things. Dominic had stripped me bare and left me alone on the mountainside in the freezing cold, then taken the gondola down with her while his soldiers watched from the lodge and did nothing.

Inhaling sharply, I unclasped the bracelet and placed it around Daniela's wrist. Her hand drifted to her stomach the instant my fingers touched her skin. She held it there, cradling the slight swell, her eyes lifting to Dominic to make sure he saw.

Then I told her gently, "May the child in your womb be safe and sound."

Hearing that, Dominic surprisingly offered me a sliver of dignity.

"Seraphina, as long as you behave, my child will be your child too."

The moment he finished speaking, the bracelet on Daniela's wrist suddenly slipped and shattered on the marble floor.

A shard grazed her leg, drawing blood.

Dominic rushed to scoop her into his arms, holding her like she was made of Murano glass.

He barked at the housekeeper to call the Family's private physician. The lighter had gone still in his pocket. His hands were occupied now, both of them cradling a woman who was not his wife.

The urgency in his voice made everyone look at me with mocking eyes. The soldiers. The staff. Every person in that house who answered to the Valente name.

And honestly, I found it laughable as well.

Last night, when I had a heart attack, Dominic was on his way out to stargaze with Daniela at the vineyard overlook.

Even as I collapsed, frothing at the mouth on the living room floor, he didn't flinch. Just stepped right over me, adjusting his cufflinks as he passed.

Before I blacked out, I heard him tell the housekeeper, "Disinfect the whole living room. Daniela is coming home tomorrow. I don't want her to smell anything foul."

Gripping the handle of my suitcase, I turned to leave again.

But he grabbed my wrist, his grip the kind of force that had ended negotiations and broken lesser men. He stared at me coldly. "Apologize."

"Wha—"

Before I could even speak, he yanked me down, forcing me to kneel in front of Daniela on the cold marble.

My knees scraped against the shards of jade, leaving blood stains on the pale floor. The pain shot through me like a blade, but no one in the room moved. No one would. Not when the Don had spoken.