I waited five hours.

The last light in the building went dark.

And finally, his figure appeared.

The moment he saw me, he took my hand, his face soft with concern.

"Why didn't you come up? How long have you been waiting?"

"Not long, I just got here. I know the Family's been pulling you in every direction, so I made you some soup. Your man Marco said you were in a sit-down, so I came down to wait."

"Don't bother next time. You're not strong, and it kills me to see you wear yourself out."

He pulled me into his arms and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

The same tender, gentle gesture as always.

But I couldn't feel his warmth anymore.

That one person could go this far, for someone else.

He settled me into the passenger seat and spoke as if it had only just occurred to him.

"Oh, right. Bianca's coming home soon. The two of you used to be close, after all, and she's paid her debt. Besides, the Family runs half its rackets through the Mancinis now. So maybe—"

"Mm. It's all in the past. I won't go looking for her. Don't worry."

He let out a breath, the corner of his mouth curving into a smile.

"Thanks for understanding, tesoro. Having you is the luckiest thing in my life."

I turned my head toward the window, watching the dark territory slide by while tears slipped down in silence.

Back at the estate, while he was washing up, I opened his computer.

The password was Bianca's birthday.

The wallpaper was a photo of the Maldives coast.

The place where Bianca had spent these past three years, kept far beyond any vendetta's reach.

I logged into his private account.

The banner was a photo of him and Bianca together.

His following list held exactly one person.

I clicked in, and there it was, nothing but pictures of Bianca and her life overseas.

The jewelry she wore came from the newest line the Falcone fronts moved.

The wrap draped over her shoulders was the latest piece our legitimate houses bankrolled.

Even the villa tagged in her photos was a Falcone hotel property abroad.

A hotel built exactly three years ago.

The only overseas holding the Family had ever taken on.

With shaking hands, I clicked into his transfer records.

There was only one recipient. Bianca.

A million in laundered cash a month, every month, for three years straight.

I scrolled through them one by one, and the cold sank into me an inch at a time.

I thought of the line beneath his name, just a single word.

Wait.

I'd asked him once what it meant.

He'd said it was something he'd jotted down ages ago, no reason.

But now, I think I knew the answer.

Three years of marriage, and apart from the wedding portrait on the wall.

We didn't have a single photo together.

No matter how I cried, no matter how I begged.

He'd only ever said we saw each other every day, so there was no point keeping mementos.

Only now did I understand. It wasn't that there was no point. It was that I was never the point, not to him.

I gave a small, bitter laugh and didn't read any further.

I just bought myself a one-way passage abroad for three days out, to lands beyond the Family's reach.

And filed to cancel every one of my papers, severing every channel that could be traced back.

Three days to say goodbye to three years. That was enough.

I set the countdown as my phone wallpaper, to remind myself every single day.

By the time he came out from washing up, I was already lying in bed.

Thinking I was asleep, he didn't say a word.

I didn't sleep at all that night.

At dawn, I went out to wash up.

My phone rang.

Lorenzo's voice followed, puzzled.

"Adriana, what papers did you cancel?"

I quickly grabbed the phone and explained without missing a beat.

"It's nothing. My documents lapsed, so I set up a meet to have them replaced."

"Don't you have that sit-down with the rackets today? Go on, get to it."

He didn't think twice about it. He just wrapped me up in his arms, nuzzling against my cheek.

"Thank you, tesoro. Marrying a wife as good as you is the luckiest thing in my life."

I smiled, and said nothing.

"As a reward, how about your husband brings you a big surprise today?"

"Sure. I'll be waiting at home."

To keep me from going after Bianca, he'd stop at nothing.

This con, three years in the making, was overdue to end.

The moment his car pulled out of the gates, I went straight to bury my old name. New identity papers, a clean passport that no soldier in the Family could trace.

After signing the forms under a borrowed surname, I went to see a consigliere.

When I asked about that written pardon, he only said a blood relative's absolution carried the same weight under the old code as the one who'd shed the blood.

It was already binding. It couldn't be undone.

I didn't press further. I just had him draw up two copies of the dissolution of the alliance.

Papers in my bag, I went to the Falcone offices, the legitimate front where the laundered cash wore a clean suit.

The instant I crossed the marble lobby, I caught the associates whispering.

"That's the Don's wife, isn't it? Word is she just came back from across the water. With grace like that, no wonder she's got Don Falcone wrapped around her finger. Even I can't look away, and I'm a woman."

"Has to be. That bag she's carrying is the new Hermès, ten in the whole world. I've gone up to his floor a few times and seen the Don picking them out himself. Bought her that one too. So devoted."

"That hotel he keeps overseas wasn't put up just for her, was it? They say they grew up together besides. Not even a film would dare go that far."

Up on the top floor, I stood outside his door. A familiar voice drifted through it.

"These three years… were you all right?"

"Mm, I've been wonderful. Every morning I open my eyes to the ocean, and the air smells like freedom. I never even thanked you. If it weren't for you, I'd already be—"

"Don't bring that up. It's all in the past. I know you didn't mean to hurt anyone. Helping you was helping myself too."

Bianca laughed, swaying with delight. Her smile came a half-second late, the way it always did, as if she had to remember to wear it.

"You. After all these years, you haven't changed at all. If Adriana found out you'd been helping me behind her back, she'd raise the roof."

"This bag's far too dear. I can't take it. Give it to Adriana instead. I'm afraid if I keep it, she'll only drag me before another sit-down."

That was always Bianca. She took every advantage for herself.

Then played the gracious one, pardoning me, and pinning every sin on my name.

The arranged union, three years ago.

I'd named her a killer in front of every guest, severed ties with her and Don Salvatore Mancini for good.

Yet every made man and wife in that room had sided with her, scolding me for not knowing my place at the table.

I became the laughingstock of the room.

Lorenzo walking in had been my only salvation.

But now, he was the very one who'd pushed me into the abyss.

Marco, hurrying up with a pact to be signed, reached me and threw the door wide before I could turn away.

Surprise flickered through Lorenzo's eyes.

"Adriana? When did you get here? Don't read into it. Bianca just got back. We were only catching up, nothing else."

"Adriana. Long time no see."

Bianca rose, draped in the latest couture from a Falcone-owned house.

Cheeks flushed, skin smooth and fine.

By no stretch did she look like a woman who'd been one breath from the vendetta's blade.

I smiled and nodded, swallowing the hurt as I spoke. Under the table's edge, my thumb turned the thin gold band on my finger in a slow circle.

"It's fine. I was out and stopped by to see you. Since you're busy, I'll head home."

Lorenzo thought I was angry. He came after me into the corridor, explaining for far too long.

"Don't be like this. I only wanted to know how she'd held up in there. She's a girl, after all. It couldn't have been easy where she was."

"It's been three years. Surely any grudge can be let go by now? Didn't you say it was all in the past?"

Watching him fret, I only smiled.

To pull Bianca out from under the blade, he'd sacrificed his own marriage to play a part with me.

Now that Bianca was safe and unmarked, who was the act still for?

"Mm. It's in the past. Don't worry. I'm not someone who doesn't know better. I keep my word."

"You go ahead and see to the Family. I'll be a good girl and wait for you at home."

The relief on his face was almost visible. He had Marco walk me down through the marble lobby himself.

Before I left, he made a point of reminding me that the Mancinis were holding a dinner the next night.

To celebrate Bianca's return.

He was the Don of the Falcone Family, after all. He had appearances to keep up.

To everyone outside the inner circle, Bianca had been away on Family business in the old country. No one ever spoke the word vendetta, or how close she'd come to answering for blood with blood.

I nodded and told him I understood.

I wouldn't break the peace at the table.

Only then did he let me go with an easy mind.

Back home, I took the wedding photo down from the wall and cut it apart, piece by piece, with a pair of scissors.

Then I threw it in the trash.

That night, Lorenzo didn't come home.

Bianca, however, logged back into her old accounts here on this side of the water.

After a long silence, she posted.

A candlelit dinner for two.

The man kept his face out of frame. Only a sliver of wrist showed.

Where a wedding band used to sit, there was nothing.

But you could still see the pale line of it against the surrounding skin.

It was Lorenzo.

I gave her exactly what she wanted and liked the post.

Then I shut off my phone and packed my bags.

Early the next morning, Marco delivered a gown on Lorenzo's behalf. He paused at the threshold, pressed his lips together as he held it out, and said nothing.

I opened it and took one look.

It was a leftover from last season, already discontinued.

That evening, by the time I reached the Mancini estate.

Salvatore had just finished his speech.

He'd handed every shared racket and stretch of territory the Falcones held with the Mancinis over to Bianca. As he spoke he turned the heavy signet ring on his right hand a quarter turn, slow, and every made man in that room understood the matter was closed.

The crowd was thick with envy.

They praised Bianca's luck, two childhood sweethearts, the Don holding her like the most precious thing in the world.

The moment I appeared, every conversation died at once, faces settling into the look of people waiting for a show. Even the clink of crystal seemed to stop.

Lorenzo was busy working the room, soldiers tracking his every move, and he had no time for me.

So Bianca played hostess in his place and drew me up to the terrace, away from the watching eyes.

There, with no one to see, she dropped the act and let her real face show.

Her expression was all mockery and venom.

"Adriana, after all these years, you're still just as useless."

"I spent these three years across the water. Thanks to your husband, I lived better than you can imagine. You don't actually think Lorenzo took you as his wife out of love, do you? Let me be honest with you, if you hadn't signed that pardon, he wouldn't have spared you so much as a glance."

"Adriana, you're nothing but a joke."

Anger flared up inside me, and before I could stop myself, my hand cracked across her face. The sound carried down the stone steps.

A cold smile curled at her lips. She stepped back, quick.

And threw herself down the stairs.

A scream tore through the hall.

Lorenzo was the first to reach her, gathering her into his arms.

He lifted his eyes to me, his gaze burning with rage.

"Adriana, what are you doing? Have you lost your mind?"

"Bianca was kind enough to host you, and you put your hands on her? You said you'd let the past go. What's all this today?"

My face was cold, my voice without a trace of feeling.

"I'm making a scene?"

"Lorenzo, that thing from back then, don't I deserve an explanation from the two of you?"

His brow knit, a flicker of panic crossing his eyes. Two fingers came down once against the stone balustrade.

"Explanation for what? Bianca's spent these three years making it up to you. What more do you want?"

"One thing has nothing to do with another. Whatever happened before, it's no reason for you to lay a hand on her today."

"Adriana, apologize to her. Right now."

Before I could say a word, Bianca was already weeping in his arms, wounded and pitiful, her fingers drifting to her own throat.

"Don't... don't be hard on Adriana. Everything that went wrong back then was my fault. I'm the one who wronged her. Let today make up for it..."

"Since she hates me this much, maybe we just shouldn't be in touch anymore. I don't want to put you in a difficult position."

My nails dug deep into my palms, and blood slid down, drop by drop.

Watching the two of them walk away in each other's arms, I knew we were finished.