They Said I Killed an Unborn Heir

He grabbed me by the hair and slapped me more than a dozen times, then tied me up and sold me to some recluse out in the countryside.

It wasn't until I'd been tortured to death that I learned the truth: my stepmother and my alliance groom Damiano Bellandi had been sleeping together for ages. The baby Viviana miscarried wasn't even my father's. It was Damiano's.

The two of them had gotten careless in the heat of the moment, and terrified of being found out and publicly shamed, they'd conspired to frame me instead.

Brilliant scheme, really. You almost had to applaud.

This time around, there was no way in hell I'd let those two get what they wanted.

The thought pulled a cold smile to my lips. I didn't even plan on leaving the house today. I called in a delivery of fifty pounds of ground meat, straight to our door on the Family-controlled block.

As for my supervisor at the front business, I shot him a message requesting to keep the ledgers from the compound through the holiday.

I was the backbone of our operation and he valued me highly, so his approval came back within minutes.

With all that settled, I took my time getting out of bed and washing up.

I'd just sat down at the table for breakfast when the doorbell rang. The butcher hauled in the fifty pounds of ground meat and left.

Dad, Salvatore, and Rosa all stared at the delivery in disbelief, asking where on earth all this pork had come from.

I pinned the whole thing on my supervisor without blinking.

"One of the associate suppliers couldn't settle their accounts before year-end, and the boss was breathing down their necks, so they paid in product instead of cash."

"Turns out the outfit's in the meat business, so my supervisor just converted this year's holiday envelope into ground pork and told everyone to take it home for making ravioli."

Nonna Rosa's jaw nearly hit the floor. "That much meat? That's got to be, what, fifty pounds? We'll be folding ravioli till next year!"

Nonno Salvatore sighed right after her. "Well, that settles it. We're prisoners of this pork today. I was planning to go play chess with the guys at the social club, but that's off the table now."

I saw the butcher out, then turned to Dad.

"Dad, all this meat's going to waste if we don't use it. Nonno and Nonna already said they're in. Don't just stand there. Go wash your hands and get over here."

Dad had no choice. He cursed out the associate supplier while rolling up his sleeves to mince garlic and onions, and within minutes he was drenched in sweat.

On Christmas Eve, every other family on the block was stringing lights and uncorking wine, adults and kids filling the brownstones with noise. Our family? Grinding through an endless mountain of ravioli.

Dad, being the strongest pair of arms in the house, went from mincing to kneading dough, panting like he'd run a marathon by the end of the morning.

By noon, everyone was starving. Dad suddenly remembered that his wife was still out somewhere.

"It's twelve thirty already. Why hasn't Viviana come back to cook? What's she doing out there?"

I shook my head, the picture of innocence. "No idea. I called her five or six times this morning and found out she blocked me."

"You think she's mad at me? Maybe try calling her yourself, Dad?"

Dad's brow furrowed. He pulled out his phone and dialed Viviana.

Ring after ring after ring.

Three calls in a row. Viviana didn't pick up a single one.

That was the match that lit the fuse. He rounded on me, voice booming. "Did you get into a fight with your stepmother? Why else would she ignore my calls?"

"Bianca, you're twenty-five years old! How are you still picking fights with her like a child?"

I let my lip tremble with just the right amount of hurt, then pulled up the taped call and hit play.

"Dad, you're blaming me again. This time it's obviously you she's upset with. That's why she won't come home."

Viviana's voice spilled out of the phone speaker for the whole family to hear. The moment Dad heard her say she didn't want him to find her, his face went dark as a thundercloud.

His gold ring stopped turning against his knuckle. He lit a cigarette without a word, jaw tight, and sat there smoking for a long time before he finally collected himself.

Nonno Salvatore and Nonna Rosa moved in to calm him down. While they were busy, I quietly ordered four meals for delivery.

"Dad, Nonno, Nonna, Viviana's not coming back to cook, and we're all tied up with these ravioli. Let's just grab some takeout for now and push through."