Omertà The Don's Prodigal Heir Who Came Back

Three years ago, I had a fight with my father and walked out of the compound in a fit of anger, chasing after some dream of a quiet life far from the family.

I shook off his soldiers along the way and settled at the foot of this mountain, in a small coastal town where nobody knew the Valente name.

That was when I met Lola Marchetti. She was on horseback, hair streaming in the wind, a smile playing at the corner of her lips. One look, and I fell hopelessly in love.

I hid my identity from her, and she told me only that she was a drifter with no ties. With heaven and earth as our witnesses, we became husband and wife.

We had no rings from a jeweler on Mulberry Street, no reception hall packed with soldiers and their wives, but tilling the small plot behind the house and mending what needed mending side by side, we were happy.

Now the cottage was destroyed, and I was locked away in that side manor on the Crane estate.

The only glimpse of the outside world I could steal was through a crack in the corner of the wall.

A few women passed by on the road, whispering about the wedding at the Crane family's estate.

"Did you hear? The Consigliere's legitimate daughter petitioned the Don himself to get a prince's blessed medallion for the young heir. Traded three generations of the Marchetti family's earned honors for it."

"Well, he is the heir to the Crane family. He deserves that kind of ceremony."

"They're a perfect match in standing. What a handsome couple they'll make."

The blessed medallion they spoke of had been my favorite in the compound. I simply hadn't reached the age for my own alliance ceremony, so my father never bestowed it upon me.

On my own wedding night with Lola, all I had worn around my neck was a chain of wildflowers she'd braided by hand.

She had said, "My Alaric deserves the finest things in the world. Even a Don's blessed medallion wouldn't be too good for you."

And now she had traded her family's honors to give that very medallion to Milton Crane.

That evening, Lola brought a whole box of the pastries I loved.

She sat across from me, her expression calm. "Eat something. You haven't had a bite all day."

I picked up a piece and ate it slowly, in small bites.

But watching her act as though nothing had happened filled my chest with a bitterness I couldn't swallow.

"When did it happen?"

Lola froze for a moment. She poured me a glass of wine, her movements stiff with embarrassment, then answered in a flat voice, "On your birthday."

The blood drained from my body. A month ago, on my birthday, Lola had vanished without a word. I searched for her the entire night, combing every slope and valley, up the mountain and down.

She didn't return until the next day, windswept and dusty, claiming she'd gotten lost while looking for a birthday gift for me.

Then, beaming like a child presenting a treasure, she produced a snow lotus from behind her back.

I hadn't slept all night, but seeing how much thought she'd put into it, I couldn't bring myself to scold her. I took the flower and tended it carefully.

Now she was telling me that on my birthday, she had been with Milton Crane in secret. Nausea churned through me.

Even so, thinking of everything we'd shared, I couldn't stop myself from wanting to give her one more chance.

"Lola, can you not marry him?"

She turned the glass between her fingers, brow furrowed tight.

"Not marry him? Marry you instead?"

"Do you really have to force me to say something cruel?"

"He's the heir to the Crane family. And you? A peasant who knows nothing but watering crops and tilling soil. How could you possibly be worthy of a Consigliere's legitimate daughter?"

My face went white. I pressed on, unwilling to let go. "Do three years of what we had really have to be measured by standing?"

A sharp, twisting pain tore through my lower abdomen. I clutched my stomach, but I still waited for her answer.

"In families like ours, standing and rank are everything. The line between legitimate and common is absolute."

She paused, and guilt crept across her face as she looked at me.

"The child I'm carrying might be his."

My mind went blank. I stared at her, unable to comprehend.

"Alaric, my child has to be recognized as the Crane family's firstborn legitimate son. That's the only way you'll be safe."

The pain in my gut twisted like a knife. Cold sweat beaded across my forehead. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of the box of pastries.

"Lola, you poisoned me for him? How could you bring yourself to do that?"

Lola's eyes reddened, and she apologized over and over.

"I'm sorry, Alaric. He found out you exist. Based on the timing, the child could be yours. He won't allow anyone to threaten his position."