On our wedding day, Lorenzo told me, his expression stone-cold, that he was impotent.

An old wound from the battlefield.

Fearing I would shatter his pride as the family heir, I never breathed a word of it.

I tried countless methods, hoping to reignite some spark between us.

I cast aside my modesty, standing before him in a slinky silk gown, but his gaze was laced with nothing but disgust.

"Have you no shame, Elara? Are you that desperate for a man?"

His words plunged me into a frozen abyss. After a family masquerade ball, I was drugged and slept with someone—I didn't know who.

My heart was heavy with guilt, a feeling that only deepened when I discovered I was pregnant a month later.

When Lorenzo found out, he looked down on me as if I were a blemish on the family name.

"Elara, I never imagined you were such a shameless woman. I knew you would tarnish the family's honor."

He put me under house arrest, arranged for an "accident" that caused my miscarriage, and fabricated a story about me colluding with a rival family, making sure the lie spread like wildfire.

In their eyes, I was a ruined woman.

Until last night, when I was bringing Lorenzo his prized cigars and overheard his conversation with his confidant.

"Boss, you don't think the Principessa still believes that masked man wasn't you, do you?"

"Damn, Boss. You're a cold man. Willing to kill your own child just to save yourself for Bianca."

Lorenzo set down his wine glass, displeased.

"No one mentions this to Bianca. That night was just an accident."

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1

Ice flooded my veins as I listened to the casual conversation drifting from the study.

I don't know how I made it back to my room. I stood before the mirror, staring at the haggard woman in the reflection, her hair already streaked with silver.

I stared, dazed. I was only twenty-eight, but I barely recognized myself.

My "immoral act" had become a sickness in my soul, an inescapable prison of guilt.

When Lorenzo stayed out all night and I went to find him, he'd taunt me.

"Just look at the state of you, you faithless woman!"

When I asked him to come home from his revelries at the casino, he would humiliate me in public, his contempt a weapon.

"What right do you have to control me? What, did you think I couldn't get it up that night, so you went and found someone who could?"

"Carrying some other man's bastard and you expect me to clean up your mess?"

"Elara, who else would want a slut like you besides me!"

It had been three years. For three years, I had been submissive, never daring to challenge a single word or action.

I had always believed it was my fault, that I could never again look him in the eye.

But I never expected the whole thing was a lie from start to finish.

I took out the makeup I hadn't touched in years, clumsily applying it as I once had, swiping scarlet lipstick across my lips.

Then I picked up the crystal perfume bottle and smashed the mirror before me.

My years of silence were over.

As expected, Lorenzo returned, reeking of alcohol.

Seeing me sitting on the sofa, wearing makeup, he frowned instantly.

"Elara, all dolled up this late. Who are you trying to impress?"

"Hah! What, is one of your flings stopping by?"

This was how he always manipulated me; his words used to fill me with a profound sense of shame.

Now, they just filled me with disgust.

"Lorenzo, you need to see a private doctor tomorrow."

"I want a child."

My words made color drain from his face.

He stared at me, his eyes bloodshot.

"Elara, what are you trying to say? Are you mocking me? Rubbing my face in the fact that I can't perform?"

"What, you can't live without a man?"

I lifted my eyes and met his gaze in silence.

"I am a normal woman. Is it so wrong to want an heir to solidify our alliance?"

"And yes, I am disgusted. You have a problem you refuse to treat. I've already contacted a doctor. You're going with me tomorrow."

Hearing this, his face contorted with fury, the veins on his forehead bulging. He looked like a red-eyed bull about to charge.

He grabbed my wrist with one hand and raised the other.

"Who gave you the right to make decisions? Can't you keep your legs shut for one second?"

"I thought you were the noblest Principessa. I guess I was mistaken."

His tone was pure mockery. I lifted my chin to meet his gaze.

If this had happened before, I would have been apologizing profusely by now, maybe even humbling myself to appease him.

The weight of our alliance and the burden of honor had long pressed me into submission.

Now that I knew it was all a lie, I finally understood how ridiculous he sounded.

"If you want to hit me, just do it. You don't need to invent excuses."

"I'm doing this for us. Don't you always say how much you care about this alliance?"

"So I've thought it over. We have to find someone to cure your condition; you can't keep avoiding it. Once you're better, we can have an heir of our own."

I said these words without a trace of emotion, my eyes locked on his.

I wanted to see, truly see, what kind of monster was hiding behind that handsome facade.

He stared at me in silence for a long time, his gaze beginning to waver.

He sank onto the sofa nearby, his tone suddenly softening.

"Elara, you know it's... it's a mental block. All in my head. I've seen specialists. They all say there's no cure. I can't go through that cycle of hope and disappointment again."

He spoke with such sincerity that if I hadn't overheard his conversation in the study, I might have believed him.

I fought back the bile rising in my throat and knelt, taking his hand.

"Please, see a doctor. For my sake?"

"Or maybe we could try. Really try. Unless… is it just that you can't perform with me?"

My words made his expression harden. His eyes darkened, and his grip on my shoulders tightened punishingly.

"Elara, has someone been talking to you? Or have you just been on edge lately, getting paranoid?"

"I'm a man. How could I joke about something like this? I want to have a child with you, too, but my body just won't cooperate."

As he spoke, his eyelids drooped in a show of sorrow, and he continued in a self-deprecating tone.

"Elara, I'm so tired. I love you so much. I thought you were the only one who could understand me. I never thought you'd betray me like that."

"I didn't want to hurt you, but the thought of you carrying another man's child... The jealousy eats me alive!"

My face remained a mask of calm, but inside, I was sneering. What a performance. It was a shame he wasn't in Hollywood.

A sudden weariness washed over me. No matter how I asked, he would never tell the truth. He was determined to play me for a fool.

"Lorenzo, I want a divorce."

I slowly stood up, looking down at him.

Scenes from our years together flashed through my mind, and for a moment, I couldn't tell what was real and what was a performance.

If he had just told me from the start that his heart belonged to someone else, I would never have forced myself into his life.

The very act of marrying me for an alliance while his heart belonged to someone else… it was disgusting.

Lorenzo was stunned for only a few seconds before instinctively refusing.

"Impossible. A divorce is out of the question!"

"Elara, I handle family business all day, and I'm exhausted when I come home. Can't you just give it a rest?"

"I love you, which is why I can forgive your betrayal. If you really want a child to secure your position, and you think I'm incapable, if you want to find someone else... I can look the other way. Alright?"

"As long as you don't leave me, don't end our marriage, I can pretend none of it ever happened."

He could pretend it never happened, but I couldn't.

That innocent child had been in my womb for months, only to become a mass of blood and tissue, erased from this world.

My hand drifted to my lower abdomen. In that moment, a wave of sorrow hit me.

Better that the child was never born. They would only have been an unwelcome soul in this world.

"Have you forgotten how you've treated me? Have I really been your wife these past years? Or just a toy for you to break?"

Back then, I had truly believed I was the one who had acted immorally, so my heart was filled with an immense guilt.

I couldn't look Lorenzo in the eye. Every word I spoke was laced with trepidation.

I had been trapped in a spiral of self-blame, while the true perpetrator—him—had been watching from the sidelines all these years.

Seeing my resolute attitude, Lorenzo abandoned his usual disgust and began to shower me with pleasantries.

He even brought up sweet memories from our past, attempting to move me.

Finally, he brought up my father.

"If you want to end the marriage, your father will never agree."

"He's an old man. Do you really want to watch him worry himself sick over you?"

"Or has that old lover of yours come back to find you?"

I couldn't help but clench my jaw. Even now, he was still trying to drag my name through the mud.

I looked at Lorenzo with icy eyes, my body trembling slightly.

I thought of all the indignation and grievances I had endured, how even my father had lost face before the Moretti family.

Our families were supposed to be allies, but over the years, because my father believed I had been unfaithful and had disgraced our family honor, he'd made countless concessions in our business dealings and profit splits.

The more I thought about it, the more resentful I became. I had wanted an amicable split, but since Lorenzo refused, he'd only have himself to blame for what I was about to do.

"I know I've let you down all these years, which is why I want to leave. Do you really forgive what I did back then?"

Hearing this, he nodded eagerly, assuring me again and again that he would never bring up the past.

He reached out, opening his arms for an embrace, a gentle smile on his face.

I pushed against his chest, rejecting the hug, and continued to state my terms.

"I remember we had an agreement when we got married. You promised me control of the Brooklyn docklands as my dowry. I want you to honor that promise now."

Lorenzo's promise to give me control of the docklands was only a verbal one.

He had said he would handle the official transfer of rights immediately after the wedding.

But on our wedding day, I was too shocked by the news of his "impotence" to think of anything else.

Afterward, I was so focused on trying to salvage our relationship that the docklands never crossed my mind.

Besides, as a Romano, it wasn't as if I were starved for power.

By the time our relationship had grown cold, he had orchestrated the masquerade ball and deliberately sullied my name, claiming I'd been with another man.

This series of events left me feeling so guilty that I didn't dare bring up the matter of the docklands.

Now was the perfect opportunity.

Lorenzo hesitated, offering a placating excuse.

"Elara, I will of course keep my promise. We're husband and wife; it doesn't matter whose name is on the deed."

"Besides, you don't know the first thing about the family business. It's better left in my hands."

Without another word, I took out the prepared dissolution agreement and handed it to him.

"You say the past is behind us, but you're unwilling to give me what I'm owed. It makes me feel insecure."

"Since you still hold a grudge, then you should sign this."

"I thought possessing some authority of my own would allow me to help you with family affairs. Give me something to do besides sit at home and let my mind wander all day."

I lowered my eyes, hiding the fire within them.

To get my revenge, I had no choice but to play his game.

I knew Lorenzo couldn't afford a divorce right now.

The joint project between our two families had reached a critical stage. If Lorenzo caused a scene with me now, his losses would be immense.

Under duress, he called the family lawyer that very night and had him bring over the property rights transfer agreement.

Only when both our names were signed on the document did I finally draw a steady breath.

Lorenzo sidled up to me again, his words dripping with false intimacy.

His attempt to placate me was sickeningly obvious.

Sensing the reek of hypocrisy coming from him, the nausea in my stomach intensified.

I took a deep breath and made a quick excuse.

"I'm not feeling well. I'm going upstairs to rest."