The Shame of the Marchetti Heir

Just then, the doorbell rang. One of his men stood at the door, holding a stack of custom gift boxes for Bianca.

Bianca didn't even bother to glance at me again as she rushed over, tearing open the boxes one by one.

"Rocco picked all of these out for me. He was worried I wouldn't be comfortable during my pregnancy. I swear, if he weren't afraid of being too conspicuous, he would have bought the entire jewelry store. Oh, this must be a freebie. My child won't need something so cheap. Here, Seraphina. You can have it."

Rocco’s brows furrowed. "Bianca," he warned.

But instead of backing down, she pouted and wrapped her arms around his.

"Rocco, you know how important a pregnant woman's emotions are. The doctor said stress isn't good for the baby. You'll frighten him if you keep raising your voice at me."

It was a clumsy performance, but Rocco bought it. The annoyance on his face vanished, replaced by a flicker of concern as he reached out and gently stroked her stomach.

As if a cluster of cells could feel a damn thing.

I said nothing, simply walking slowly back to my room.

And in that moment, the child I had once longed for, the baby I had cherished so deeply, felt like a fatal mistake.

Rocco followed close behind, slamming the door shut. He looked down at me, his gaze sharp.

"Seraphina, you know the rules. If I don't help her, she dies. You're my wife. You should understand me. If there was anything between Bianca and me, I wouldn't have married you in the first place."

I remembered the day Bianca discovered she was pregnant. She had stormed into the estate, shivering in Rocco’s arms, looking so fragile and helpless.

Rocco’s heart had softened instantly. He had soothed her in a low voice, promising that everything would be sorted out.

Then, her parents, Don Silvio and Donna Donatella Fabbri, arrived with a group of their men. They were roaring with fury, ready to execute their own daughter for dishonoring the family name.

Bianca was terrified. She buried herself deeper into Rocco’s arms, her body trembling so violently it seemed she might shatter at any moment.

The Fabbri family was known for its iron fist and ruthless cruelty. Such a scandal was utterly intolerable.

And so, in her terror, Bianca had claimed the child was Rocco's. And to protect her, for the sake of their alliance, he had taken responsibility.

"Seraphina, as long as I know you're carrying my child, that's all that matters. In our world, reputation is for show. Power is what's real."

Something inside me shattered completely, but I still asked the question that had been stuck in my throat.

"Why can't she just face the consequences herself?"

"Bianca wants to keep this child. You and I are having a child, too. But she's afraid people will call her child a bastard, so..."

"So now her child is the rightful heir, and our child becomes proof of my infidelity. Is that what you're saying?" I was no longer crying. I just stared at him, a bitter, mocking smile on my face.

Rocco’s jaw tightened. A storm was brewing in his eyes.

"No matter what anyone says, this is still my child. And you are my wife. That will never change. Seraphina, can't you think about what's best for the family for once?"

"Bianca is delicate and from a good family. She shouldn't have to suffer humiliation because of rumors," Rocco said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

In that moment, I understood. She was a delicate piece of glass that couldn't be tarnished, while I was a wild weed to be trampled without a second thought.