Gioia smiled, savoring every second of it.

"Drop the wounded act. Who's there to blame? Blame yourself for being useless. With a mother as worthless as you, your babies were only ever good enough to nourish mine."

Something in me snapped. My hand shot up and swung straight for her face.

Crack.

The slap never landed. Lorenzo yanked Gioia behind him and took the blow himself, the sound flat against the marble of the Falcone compound's east hall.

He shoved me to the floor, his voice a snarl.

"Adriana, what the hell do you think you're doing?!"

Gioia wept, one hand sliding low and protective over her belly, the picture of injured innocence.

"Lorenzo, all I wanted was to comfort her, to tell her not to break her heart over the baby."

"But she actually envied me for carrying. She said I stole her place as the Family's first lady, and she tried to dump the slop water all over me. I pushed her back on instinct. I didn't mean to. I already apologized, and she still came at me, screaming that she'd make me lose the child." Her hand pressed harder against her stomach as she said it.

Before I could get a word out, Lorenzo looked down at me, his face dark.

"Adriana, how did I never see this side of you? When did you become such a vain, grasping woman?"

"You couldn't keep your babies because you weren't capable of it. So why take it out on Gioia? Why throw her kindness back in her face? Stop coveting things that were never yours. Apologize to Gioia. Now."

I wasn't capable of it. Heh...

I stared at his face, and all at once it was like looking at a stranger.

"Lorenzo, tell me. My babies, the ones who died. Where did you really send their bodies?"

Lorenzo frowned. His thumb moved along the inside seam of his cuff, slow, the way a tailor checks a hidden stitch.

"I had them buried, of course. I already told you that, didn't I?"

His acting was flawless. Truly. A man who fronted a couture house and laundered the syndicate's blood through silk could lie without a single thread out of place.

"You're right, Lorenzo. I shouldn't covet things that aren't mine. Don't worry. I'll never cross Gioia again."

With that, I turned and walked away without a moment's hesitation.

Lorenzo watched me go, and a sudden unease tightened in his chest. He started to call me back, but Gioia caught his arm.

"Lorenzo, the slop water splashed all over me. I feel sick. Will you take me to the Family physician? Please?"

He hesitated for two seconds. In the end, he didn't come after me.

Back in our wing of the compound, I dug out everything Lorenzo had given me over the years and threw it all into the fire bowl.

I'd just pulled out the blood union papers when my phone chimed. I opened the message and glanced at it.

"Adriana, I only said I felt a little sick, and Lorenzo got so worried he flew in the best physicians from every territory for me."

"Even the ones across the country. He chartered a plane just to bring them in. Aren't you so jealous?"

I didn't bother answering her. I watched the flames swallow the marriage pact and reduce it to ash.

I wasn't the least bit worried Lorenzo would see.

Because I knew he wasn't coming home tonight.

Sure enough, his call came.

"Adriana, Gioia's having some trouble with the pregnancy, and Matteo's away handling Family business. As her husband's blood, I have to look after her for him. Don't be upset."

I thought of the photo Gioia had just sent, her cheeks flushed and rosy as she ate the fruit Lorenzo had sliced for her himself. Not a trace of distress anywhere.

"Mm. Got it. The pregnancy comes first. Take good care of her."

Lorenzo paused, then softened his voice.

"Adriana, I didn't mean to snap at you today. I know losing the baby has you in a bad place."

"But Gioia is carrying a child, and that child is Falcone blood. You and I can't carry on the bloodline anymore. If something happens to Gioia, I'm afraid the old Don and my mother won't survive it."

I found it almost funny. Why bother with all these excuses?

"Just stay home and be good. Tomorrow's your birthday. I booked the finest suite the Family owns and put together a surprise for you. I'll come get you first thing in the morning."

By noon the next day, Lorenzo still hadn't come home to the compound.

I set the signed dissolution of the blood union on the table, then arranged for a recorded testimony to send itself, addressed to Lorenzo, when the hour came.

Once that was done, I picked up my luggage and slipped out toward the airport, past the soldier at the gate who only nodded, knowing better than to ask the Don's wife where she was going.

I'd barely arrived when Lorenzo called again.

"I'm sorry, Adriana. A few associates from out of town showed up at the couture house with no warning, wanting to go over the line for next season. I truly can't get away."

"I'll have my courier collect you and take you to the hotel. You've always wanted me to design a dress for you, haven't you? Well, I already have. Put it on later. You'll look stunning."

"Mm. Fine."

I hung up, my gaze drifting to two girls standing nearby.

They were huddled over a phone, scrolling through photos, sighing with envy.

"Dio, who knew the Don was this gorgeous and could cut maternity gowns this beautiful? It almost makes me want to get pregnant."

"You think being pregnant would even get you these? Every piece at today's showing was made by Don Falcone himself, just for his expecting wife. Each one's one of a kind, the most expensive fabrics the Family money can buy. There've got to be hundreds. The kid will be grown before she runs out of dresses. I'm so jealous."

"I heard the Don didn't want to overwhelm his wife, so the showing was closed to everyone outside the Family. Lucky thing your boyfriend runs a floor at the couture house and could pass us these inside photos. Otherwise we wouldn't even get to see the lovebirds."

On the screen, Gioia had her arm looped through Lorenzo's, drifting through the gowns made just for her, one hand resting low and easy on her belly, laughing with that loose, unbothered delight.

The Falcone house dressed half the city behind its laundered books, and Lorenzo's hand with a needle stood far above any tailor the Family had ever owned.

Once, I'd coaxed him too, begging him to design a single dress for me.

He always said he was busy. That he simply couldn't spare the time.

Yet for Gioia he'd designed hundreds.

Remembering how he'd just told me he'd made me one dress as a surprise, that little note of fishing for praise in his voice, I almost laughed at the bitter joke of it. My thumb found the thin gold band, the christening ring I'd never given away, and turned it once before I let my hand fall still.

Boarding time came. I switched off my phone and took my seat on a flight bound for a country where Omertà held no power.

Once Lorenzo finished helping Gioia pick out her gowns, he went to the hotel for the Family feast.

He pictured Adriana stepping in wearing that dress, lovely as an angel.

But Adriana never came. All that arrived was his courier, pale and frantic, threading through the soldiers at the door.

"Don Falcone, something's wrong. Your wife is gone."