Omertà of the Heart

Without another glance at me, he rose from the chair and stepped into the corridor to take her call, the door clicking shut behind him with the soft finality of a man choosing, again, the same thing he always chose.

As soon as he left, my phone rang, the vibration loud against the metal tray in the quiet room.

Taking a deep breath, I answered the call.

Before I could say anything, the voice on the other end broke through, anxious and urgent, the sound of someone who had been pacing for days.

"Weren't you supposed to meet me? Seraphina, did you change your mind?"

"No... I didn't. Something just came up," I said, and my voice cracked on the last word in a way I couldn't control, the way a wall cracks before it falls.

"Something came up? What happened? No, this won't do. I'm coming back. I'm flying home myself!"

I cut off the person on the other end of the secure line, my voice barely above a whisper as I lowered my gaze and pressed my lips together.

"Just give me a few more days. That's all I ask."

When Dominic returned to the hospital ward, I had just ended the call.

Noticing the faint smile tugging at the corner of my lips, a smile he hadn't seen in a long time, something in his chest twisted uncomfortably. I could tell by the way he paused in the doorway, his hand still on the frame, the silver Zippo frozen mid-turn between his fingers.

But he had just promised Daniela he'd be home soon, back to the Valente penthouse to sing lullabies for her and the baby.

So he didn't have time to ask who I'd been talking to.

He assumed it was probably my cousin, the only Rossetti woman still willing to speak to me since the alliance marriage. After all, I no longer had anyone of my own. The Family had made sure of that. Nine years inside the Valente household had stripped me of every connection that wasn't his to control.

Without turning back, he gathered his files from the bedside table and said coldly, "Seraphina, something came up at the social club. I'll come again tomorrow."

In the blink of an eye, tomorrow had passed and the day after.

And the day after that. He never showed up. The soldier stationed outside my door changed shifts three times. None of them spoke to me. None of them had orders to.

Instead, thanks to wives of associates, women who circled the Family's orbit like satellites, I kept receiving videos of him and Daniela. Sent to my phone with no commentary. Just the footage. Just the evidence of what everyone already knew and no one would say to my face.

He took her to dinner at Family-owned restaurants where the staff cleared the room for them. He brought her to charity galas where the Valente name bought silence and admiration in equal measure.

He looked like a giddy young boy in love, showing her off to every Capo and associate like she was the greatest prize he had ever claimed. His hand on the small of her back. His mouth at her ear. The Don of the most powerful syndicate on the Eastern Seaboard, reduced to a fool by a woman with no family name and a talent for performance.

On the day I was discharged from the hospital, Dominic posted a nine-grid photo on his social media, the public-facing account that maintained the Valente family's image of legitimate wealth and domestic bliss.

In the golden hues of sunset, he stood on a romantic hot air balloon platform, gently cupping Daniela's rosy cheeks as they kissed passionately. The city sprawled beneath them. He looked free. He looked like a man who had never made a blood oath to another woman.

I left a comment.

[Wishing you two a lifetime of love, and a healthy baby on the way.]

Ten minutes later, my phone rang. It was Dominic. The screen lit up with his name, and the soldier outside my door glanced in through the window as if even the phone ringing was an event that required surveillance.

I didn't pick up.

Thirty minutes after that, I finished the discharge process alone. No escort. No driver waiting at the curb. The Don's wife, walking out of a hospital with a plastic bag of belongings and a heart monitor still taped to the inside of her wrist, and not a single soul from the Valente Family there to witness it.

And just as I walked past the OB-GYN department, I saw Dominic, and beside him was Daniela. Her hand rested on his arm with practiced ease, and her other hand sat over her stomach. Always over her stomach. Always when he was looking.