When I Could Hear, I Heard His Betrayal

Five years passed and my hearing was finally restored. The first thing I wanted to do was share the news with Lorenzo. He had been my constant support, my partner and my reason to believe in love again, even in a world where love was just another currency men traded for power.

But just as I was about to tell him, I overheard a conversation between him and his Consigliere.

"Even now, I still love Serafina," Lorenzo admitted, his voice laced with regret. "I'm thinking of signing the Falcone rackets over to her, the whole succession."

Matteo gave a low laugh, clearly amused. "If your wife finds out you only bound yourself to her in that union to keep her away from Gabriele, and to protect Serafina's happiness, she'll be devastated."

Lorenzo's response chilled me to my core. "Oh, I'm not worried. She's deaf. She can't hear what we're saying."

I froze. My world, already fragile, shattered in an instant. My eyes burned with unshed tears and my hands trembled as I clenched them into fists.

So, these five years of love, care and kindness, everything, had all been a lie? A carefully built facade to ensure Serafina's happiness at my expense?

What was the point of staying in a life built on betrayal? There was none. I might as well disappear from his world forever.

……

As soon as the doctor confirmed that my hearing had fully recovered, I could hardly contain my excitement. My heart raced as I imagined hearing Lorenzo's voice, not the faint vibrations I had grown used to over the years. The thought alone was enough to quicken my pace as I rushed back to the compound, my breath coming in short, eager bursts.

The winter air was sharp and biting as the soldier at the gate opened the car door for me. Snowflakes drifted lazily from a gray sky, dusting the garden path that wound past the stone wall to the front door. My cheeks stung from the cold, but I barely noticed. All I could think about was the joy of sharing this miracle with the man I loved.

But as I approached the front door, the muffled sound of voices stopped me in my tracks. I hesitated, my hand hovering over the brass handle. It wasn't unusual for Lorenzo to keep company behind closed doors, but something about the tone made me pause. I strained to listen, the unfamiliar clarity of sound both thrilling and unnerving.

"I thought after five years, I could move on," a deep male voice said. "But it turns out, I still love Serafina."

My breath hitched and I froze, my pulse pounding in my ears.

"You know," the voice continued, "I've been thinking of handing her the whole succession, so she doesn't have to worry about money for the rest of her life."

I peeked through the narrow gap between the door and its frame. Lorenzo sat on the dark leather couch in the study, his posture relaxed yet deliberate, the heavy signet ring on his finger catching the lamplight. Opposite him sat Matteo, his Consigliere, leaning back with an incredulous look. My stomach churned as I realized the voice had come from Lorenzo himself.

Matteo frowned, his expression a mixture of concern and disbelief. "If you sign away the Falcone holdings, you'll be a made man with nothing left but your name. What about your wife? She's the eldest daughter of the Bellandi blood. Are you planning to make her live in hardship?"

Lorenzo leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his face calm but resolute. "Back then, Serafina didn't choose me, so I couldn't stand at her side as her husband. But I can still show her that I've always loved her, that I've never abandoned her. Handing her the succession is the least I can do."

"And your wife?" Matteo asked, exasperated. "What about Mirabella?"

Lorenzo's lips curved into a faint, dismissive smile. "I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to her. She told me she loves me and that she's willing to endure hardships with me. Her standard of living might drop slightly, but it's not as if she'll go hungry. She won't complain."

I felt the words like physical blows, each one slicing through my chest with cruel precision. My legs felt like they might give out beneath me, but I clung to the doorframe for support. The weight of betrayal pressed down on me, cold and unrelenting, like the snow accumulating around my feet. Somewhere deep in the house a clock ticked, and the sound seemed louder than my own heartbeat.

Matteo set his glass down with deliberate, soundless care before he spoke again, and he rubbed his temple. "You've completely lost your mind over Serafina. If your wife finds out that you bound yourself to her not out of love, but to keep her away from Gabriele and Serafina, she'll be heartbroken."

His words left me numb. The truth I had unknowingly lived beside for five years was more devastating than I could have imagined. My fingers gripped the edge of the door so tightly that my knuckles turned white.

Matteo's voice faltered as he glanced toward the doorway and saw me standing there. His eyes widened in alarm and his words came out in a panicked stammer. "M-Mirabella, you're back?"

Lorenzo turned his head sharply, his gaze locking onto mine. For a moment, there was tension in his eyes, an instinctive flicker of guilt, quickly masked by a calm, almost indifferent expression.

"What are you so flustered about?" he said coolly. "She's deaf. Even if you shouted into her ears, she wouldn't hear a word."

His words twisted the knife already buried in my heart. Matteo relaxed visibly, even giving a nervous laugh as he rose, offered me a small deferential nod, and signed a polite greeting.

Lorenzo got up from the couch and crossed to me, his steps measured, his expression warm and familiar. He reached for a shawl draped over a nearby chair and gently wrapped it around my shoulders. His fingers brushed against my skin, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine, not from the cold, but from the growing chasm between us.

He signed to me with a concerned look, "Honey, why did you go out in such cold weather wearing so little? You'll catch a cold."

At first, I had admired his effort to learn sign language, remembering the long hours he had spent with a tutor after our union was sealed. I thought he had done it out of love, a gesture to bridge the gap my silence had created. But now, every gesture, every kind word, felt like part of an elaborate performance, carefully crafted to hide the truth.