An Heir's Empty Memorial

I was recuperating at my family's lake house in the Catskill Mountains when a sudden storm knocked out all communication and power.

I slipped on the slick terrace stairs and took a nasty fall.

Lying in a pool of my own blood, I fumbled for my phone. With the last bar of signal, I called my husband, Cillian Fitzpatrick—the man who was supposed to be handling family business—and begged him for help.

"Today is the anniversary of Liliana's father's death, and she's a wreck. I'm just keeping her company. Can't you stop being so damn paranoid? You're due any day now. I'll be back, alright? Stop being so dramatic."

On the other end of the line, I heard Liliana's tearful, aggrieved voice. "Cillian, it's all my fault. Am I bothering the Principessa?"

Without another word, Cillian hung up.

My best friend and sister-in-law, Cassidy Donnelly, found me. She held me, sobbing, as she frantically called her husband, Ronan Fitzpatrick, for help.

"Are all pregnant women this fucking crazy?" Ronan snapped. "Don't you start with the same manipulative bullshit as Alessia. Cillian and I are with Liliana. We don't have time for this."

Then, he blocked her.

My injuries were too severe. The family's rescue team was trapped down the mountain by the floodwaters and couldn't possibly reach me in time.

Even though she was heavily pregnant herself, Cassidy managed to get me into a bulletproof car and navigate the washed-out mountain roads to get me to the family's private doctor.

I miraculously survived. My baby did not.

The grief and physical strain were too much; Cassidy lost her baby, too.

"I want a divorce," I whispered, my eyes swollen from crying.

"Me too. I'm done with Ronan."

Together, we submitted our request to the family.

And that was when Cillian and Ronan completely snapped.

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1

The moment word of my divorce request got out, Cillian Fitzpatrick called.

"Alessia, you can't keep throwing these tantrums just because you're pregnant. I have my limits, you understand?"

"You're a Principessa, born with a silver spoon in your mouth. You're used to a world of betrayal and lies—of dirty deals."

"But just because your world is dark, don't project your filthy assumptions onto me. Liliana is like a sister to me. Her father died for my brother and me, and it's my duty to take care of her."

"And just because I'm honoring my promise doesn't make me a bad husband. You're due any day now; I'll be back in time. Why are you making such a big deal out of this?"

He sounded like a man who truly believed he was the victim.

White-hot rage surged through me. "I fell down the stairs, Cillian. I lost our child. I almost died. If that's nothing, then what the fuck do you consider a big deal?"

"That's enough, Alessia. Stop testing my patience with your prejudice against Liliana. You know how much I care about you and the baby, but you're always so aggressive. It's not fair to me."

He had the audacity to turn this back on me? If he really cared, why wasn't he there when I was fighting for my life?

I was trembling with rage. "Enough. Come back. I want a divorce!"

"You need to get a handle on your emotions. You're still pregnant, and I'm not going to argue with you. Just stay put and try to rest. Liliana's hungry; I'm going to make her dinner."

Just like when I had begged for my life yesterday, Cillian calmly hung up the phone.

Meanwhile, I sat there, clutching the swaddling blanket I had prepared for our lost child, and sobbed my heart out.