His Fake Marriage Cost Him Everything

Right before our blood-alliance anniversary, my husband, who had always put the Family's business above home, gave me seven days off for the first time ever.

He didn't just arrange my round-trip passage to Scandinavia himself; he laid out the whole itinerary, right down to a place I'd once mentioned loving, the aurora cabins under the northern lights, far past the reach of any Falcone soldier.

Everyone said he'd finally come around, that the Don had finally learned to care for his wife.

Even I let myself believe that all those years of giving had finally paid off.

Until the day before we left, when I happened to pass the study.

The door wasn't fully shut, and my son's small voice drifted out.

"Daddy, if you and Aunt Gianna get married, then what happens to Mommy?"

My feet froze where I stood.

A second later, my husband let out a low chuckle.

"It's only a sham alliance."

"Be a good boy, Matteo. You can't ever tell Mommy about this. Give Daddy a little time and I'll take care of everything, and then I'll buy you that race car model you like best."

My son agreed at once, delighted.

And I stood outside the door, the blood going cold in my veins, inch by inch.

So the seven-day passage to Scandinavia wasn't thoughtfulness. It wasn't a surprise.

It was to move me out of the territory, so he could go and make good on another woman's long-overdue union, free and clear.

I don't know how I got away from that door.

I only remember standing down in the courtyard in the cold wind for a long time.

Cold enough that I didn't even notice the tears running down my face.

All these years, for this Family, for my husband and my child, I gave up the work I loved most. I gave up the faraway places I'd once dreamed of.

But only now did I understand.

The one who'd been given up, all along, was me.

If he wanted to make up for what Gianna Russo had missed.

Then I should go after the life that belonged to me.

So on the day of departure, I boarded the flight to Scandinavia, just as planned.

Only this time, I had no intention of coming back.

……

I stood against the cold wind for a long while, until my cheeks went numb, before I slowly steadied myself.

I'd just turned to head upstairs when I ran into Lorenzo Falcone at the foot of the staircase.

He was wearing a wine-red suit today, tie in the same shade, the whole look unusually showy for a man who handled his business in shadows.

I stared for a moment.

Because I remembered it clearly. He used to hate red more than anything.

"Don't you always hate red?"

His face stiffened slightly. Then he straightened his tie, smiled, and explained, the laugh coming a half-beat too late.

"I used to. Now I think it's not bad."

"Besides, it's the color everyone's wearing this year. And I've got to go with a friend to try on the suits for his wedding, so I can't show up looking too drab. A little festive is good."

In the space of a few seconds, he'd lined up one reason after another.

But all at once I thought of Gianna Russo.

Red was her favorite.

Ever since she came back into our territory, Lorenzo's closet had quietly filled with red jackets, until even his socks and his cufflinks had turned red.

Once, I'd told myself it was just coincidence.

Now I understood.

Every change had been there to see all along, if I'd only looked.

I pushed down the feelings churning inside me and spoke calmly.

"A fitting? I'm free, actually. Let me drive you over."

"No need!"

It came out of Lorenzo almost before he could stop it, the refusal sharp and immediate.

Realizing he'd overreacted, he added with a smile,

"What's a woman doing tagging along with a bunch of us men?"

"Don't worry, I'll bring something back for you and Matteo."

With that, he leaned down and pressed a light kiss to my forehead.

The gesture was practiced and gentle.

Before, it would have made me feel happy without question.

Now it only felt like a joke at my expense.

Before I could say anything more, he'd already turned and gone, his back almost giving away how eager he was to leave.

I stayed where I was, and a sharp pain stabbed through my chest.

For one moment, I wanted to call out and stop him.

I wanted to ask him.

Was he really going to help a friend try on a wedding suit, or to finish the union that belonged to him and Gianna Russo, ten years too late.

But in the end, I said nothing.

I only lowered my eyes slowly and let that pain spread, bit by bit.

To the outside world, Lorenzo and I had always been the couple every Family envied, the kind blessed by heaven.

He'd defied the old Don to take me as his wife, a woman without a name in any bloodline.

I stood by him as we built everything from nothing, working day and night through the Falcone Syndicate's darkest stretches, pulling the operation back from the edge of ruin more times than I could count.

The world called me a workaholic.

Ten years through every storm, side by side.

We had a lovely son, and together we pushed the Falcone name back to the head of the table.

Everyone thought we'd walk through this whole life just as happily.

Even I had believed it without a shred of doubt.

Until today, when I finally saw the truth.

In Lorenzo's heart, there had always been a place kept for Gianna Russo.

When I got back inside, Matteo was sitting in the living room.

The moment he saw me come in, he ran over and threw his arms around my legs.

"Mommy."

He tilted his little face up, his voice uneasy.

"You won't leave me and Daddy, will you?"

His eyes were red, like he was fighting hard to hold something back, and his fingers found the cuff of my sleeve and held it between them.

My heart twisted into a knot.

I crouched down and gently smoothed his hair.

"Matteo."

"If one day Mommy and Daddy split up, who would you want to stay with?"

The moment the words left me, the little one froze.

His eyes reddened fast, tears welling up in them.

I regretted it.

I shouldn't have handed a grown-up's problem to an eight-year-old.

So I reached out and pulled him into my arms, patting his back softly.

"I'm sorry. Mommy shouldn't have asked you that."

"You must be hungry. Let me go make you something to eat."

Matteo didn't say a word. He only held me tighter, his small fingers still locked around my sleeve.

In the kitchen, I made dinner the way I always did.

We could easily afford the finest cook and a houseful of staff, but Lorenzo and Matteo both liked my cooking best.

The two of them, their tastes, their favorites, the things they wouldn't touch. I knew it all better than anyone.

Scrambled eggs with tomato, braised meatballs, and pancakes fresh off the pan.

All of Matteo's favorites.

As I set the food on the table, Matteo suddenly dropped his head, tears falling, drop by drop, into his bowl.

"Mommy……"

I quickly pulled out a tissue to wipe his eyes.

"Why are you crying?"

Matteo lifted his head, sniffling.

That small, young face was full of hurt and fear.

"The thing about Aunt Gianna and Daddy getting married……"

"You already know, don't you?"

My hand paused for just a moment.

So he'd known all along.

Matteo cried harder.

"Daddy said it's a sham alliance."

"He said he's just doing Aunt Gianna a favor."

"Mommy, please don't be angry with Daddy, okay?"

"Daddy loves you, he really loves you……"

I was quiet for a long time.

In the end, I only pulled him into my arms.

I knew.

An eight-year-old couldn't possibly understand grown-up feelings.

In his heart, Mommy and Daddy were the two people in the world who loved each other most.

He only wanted, simply and purely, for this Family not to fall apart.

But some cracks, once they appear, can never be unseen again.