The passcode was Bianca Marchetti's birthday.

His messaging app was still open in the background. There was only one contact. Saved under the name Bianca.

I tapped in, and there it was, five years of conversation stretching from then to now. Every single day, the good-mornings and good-nights, never once missed. Bianca lived across the water, yet she sent Lorenzo her schedule each day. Either she was out shopping and taking her coffee, or she was tending whatever front she ran, sitting through her own little sit-downs. No matter what she sent, Lorenzo never let her down. One photo earned her a reward of a hundred thousand dollars. That was how he stayed woven into her life, day after day. Until ten thousand photos filled the album.

And when I shared something with him, all I ever got was one line:

"Adriana, I'm in a meeting. We'll talk when the Family's business is done."

To keep Bianca happy, every gift he bought on this side of the water passed through hand after hand before it finally reached her. The auction-house orders ran on for dozens of screens. A lot of the names looked familiar. Lorenzo had given me one of those gifts too. It was nothing but a complimentary throw-in from one of her auctions.

The newest video in the album was from five hours ago. The thumbnail was me, sunk into unconsciousness after the pills he fed me. Around me stood a dozen faces I knew. Made men. Soldiers who had kissed his ring.

My fingers shook so badly I couldn't make the video open, no matter how hard I pressed. In the end I clumsily hit delete. And switched off his phone.

Lorenzo, since we began with a lie. This time, let me end it with one too.

Without hesitating, I sent a message to Francesca Conti. I told her to bring a boat to the far side and wait for me tomorrow night. Then I found the papers I needed, the dissolution of the alliance, a release I would sign in my own hand, downloaded the digital copy, and attached it to an email.

When it was all done, cold sweat broke out across the sleeping Lorenzo's forehead. He murmured the words over and over:

"Adriana... no, nothing can happen to you."

"Adriana!"

The instant his eyes opened, he pulled me into his arms like a man who'd lost me and gotten me back. Our chests pressed tight together, our heartbeats running at different speeds. After a long moment, he surfaced from the nightmare.

"Thank God you're all right."

His thumb found the edge of his wedding ring and turned it, slow, against my back.

Scenes like this had played out so many times. I used to think it was love run deep, that he ached where I ached. But now I saw it for what it was. A performance. Nothing but masterful acting.

I bowed my head and let him hold me, let him comfort me.

"There now. I'll go bring you something to eat. Wait for me."

Lorenzo had barely stepped out before I slipped after him. He didn't go to the kitchens. He turned instead toward the private lounge downstairs, the one where deals got struck and nothing that happened was ever spoken of again.

The moment he walked in, a slender wrist curled up over his shoulder. And pulled him inside.

I stood outside the door, listening to the breathing inside quicken fast. Lorenzo's voice came low and restrained:

"So you finally decided to come back?"

Bianca's face bloomed into a smile as she rose on her toes and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"If I'd stayed away any longer, I was afraid you'd really fall for Adriana."

"I heard you pulled the same old trick again? She's your wife of five years, sworn to you before every Family, and she'd just gotten pregnant. How could you bear it..."

"If Adriana ever finds out, she'd want to skin me alive." She laughed, that bright, brittle little sound, a half-beat too soon.

Lorenzo laughed softly at her teasing, holding her tighter, pinning her against the back of the door.

"I told you. As long as I'm here, no one would dare touch you."

"As long as you're happy. You'd pave my road with her own flesh and blood."

A passing waiter spotted me and gasped out loud.

"Donna Falcone? What are you doing here? You haven't recovered, you can't be wandering the halls. If the Don finds out, it's our skins he'll have."

"Let me take you back."

The words trailed off.

The made men walking past all looked at me with something mocking in their eyes.

"That's the Don's wife? The one a dozen men dragged into a lounge a little while ago? I heard she's already been used twice. The Don really isn't an ordinary man, swallowing all that down without a word."

"Twice? Try more than that. A dozen men at a time, and you do the math. The Don's got enough horns on his head to knit a sweater. He must be blind, taking a woman like that into his bed. Just holding her at night would turn your stomach."

"Who knows if she was forced or willing. Probably no better than she should be, anyway. Why else would it always be her getting into trouble, and on the Don's own vessel? This time the kid's gone too. Any baby cursed with a mother like that is better off in the sea."

…

I stood off to the side, my legs nearly giving out under me. The salt wind off the deck did nothing to steady them.

Lorenzo had heard the commotion carry down the corridor, and this was the scene he walked into. Conversations cut off the moment he appeared. The made men nearest the door straightened without thinking.

The color drained from his face in an instant.

A second before I hit the floor, he caught me and pulled me into his arms.

"Adriana? What are you doing here?"

"You're not feeling unwell, are you? Let me take you back."

I said nothing. My eyes followed past his shoulder to Bianca.

Afraid I'd seen, Lorenzo rushed to explain:

"Don't read too much into it. Bianca only just came back across the water. I ran into her by chance and came to see how she was."

"That whole business was five years ago. Bianca was afraid you'd be upset, so she stayed abroad all this time. She finally managed to come home, and we are all the same famiglia in the end, so maybe we could just—"

"Don't worry. As long as I draw breath, that bastard Salvatore won't set foot near you again."

"Mm. It's in the past. I won't speak of it again."

I knew what he was trying to say.

Better to put myself in a corner.

No. Better to be the one who said it first.

At least that way I could keep my dignity.

The same men and their wives who'd been sneering a moment ago saw the Don step out onto the deck. In an instant they scattered, the way they always did when his shadow fell across a room.

"Adriana. Long time no see."

Bianca smiled and greeted me, the limited-edition piece on her wrist catching the deck lights as she let it show.

I gave a silent nod, swallowing the hurt as I spoke:

"I came out for some air. Since you're busy, I'll head back first. I wouldn't want to cause you any trouble out here, in front of everyone."

Lorenzo thought I was angry and trailed after me all the way back to the private lounge.

His eyes went red with tenderness.

Watching how eager he was to play the part, the heat of his desire still not faded from his gaze. His thumb moved slow along the edge of his wedding ring.

I suddenly felt the urge to laugh.

To clear the way for Bianca.

He had drugged me and destroyed my whole bloodline without a second thought. He had let the Vitale name be looted down to the bone.

Now that he'd gotten what he wanted, I lived buried under the contempt of every made man and his wife, unable to lift my head.

So who was the act for now?

"Don't worry. It was five years ago. I forgot about it long ago. The lounge was just stuffy, and being shut in there kept dredging up things I'd rather not remember, so I went out for air."

Lorenzo let out a breath of relief.

He wiped the tear tracks from the corners of my eyes himself.

After feeding me the drug, he went out the door again.

This time he headed toward the dining hall.

Ten minutes later, an associate slipped an invitation to the family banquet through the crack of the door.

I knew this was Bianca's doing.

But I went anyway.

Before I left, I threw the suitcase I'd brought with me into the sea, down to where the Don sent the things he wanted gone.

At the banquet, Bianca appeared in a haute couture gown. Every gesture radiated poise, as though she had been bred for this floor.

She used the name Donna Falcone.

Every made man in the room was speculating about her standing beside the Don. Murmurs drifted between the tables.

Guests came forward, lifting their glasses, praising what a perfect match the two of them made, an alliance written in the stars.

Lorenzo hurried over, busy working the room the way a Don must, and didn't notice me there.

Bianca, however, came up to me and led me outside the lounge. Her gaze swept over the bruises mottling my neck. She lifted her face into a smile.

"Adriana. Five years, and you're still nothing but garbage."

"Well? How did it feel, getting dragged in there? You couldn't protect the Vitale family back then, and now you can't protect your child either. You're a joke."

"You still don't know, do you? Those men weren't an accident. Your beloved husband arranged the whole thing. While you were being stripped bare, he stood right there and watched. I feel sorry for you, I really do."

Hatred surged up inside me.

Before I could move, Bianca struck herself across the face. Twice.

The instant the scream tore out of her, she pitched forward over the brass railing of the Don's private vessel and dropped straight down into the sea.

Her thin body thrashed in the black water.

I hadn't even registered what was happening before Lorenzo shoved me hard to the ground.

He didn't spare me a single glance. He just turned and dove in after her.

The moment he pulled Bianca out, she buried herself against his chest, sobbing without end. The made men along the deck went quiet, every one of them watching their Don cradle a woman who was not his wife.

When Lorenzo finally looked at me, not a trace of the old love was left in his eyes.

"Adriana, have you lost your mind?"

"So this is what you meant by 'it's in the past'? Bianca heard what happened to you. She came over out of kindness, to see you, to clear up the misunderstanding from back then, and you raise a hand to her? What gives you the right?"

I lay sprawled on the deck, my clothes twisted open, the red marks on my skin laid bare for every silent partner aboard to see.

My expression only went colder.

"A misunderstanding? The misunderstanding from back then. Shouldn't you be the one owing me an explanation!"

"If it weren't for you, how would I have ever sunk low enough to need her charity visit!"

His brows knotted. A flicker of panic crossed his eyes. His thumb moved once along the edge of his wedding ring.

"Explain what? You knew the Vitale bloodline was finished, the tribute looted, the name dishonored. I took you in out of the goodness of my heart!"

"And tonight, if you hadn't disobeyed and gone wandering off, how would you have ended up. I'm not God, I can't be glued to your side every second. You went looking for trouble. What right do you have to pin it on Bianca? Blame yourself for having no self-respect!"

"Adriana, apologize to Bianca!"

Before I could say a word, the tears were already sliding down Bianca's face.

"Don't, don't be hard on Adriana. The fall of the Vitales was all my fault. I didn't stop Salvatore in time. I'm the one who wronged her. Tonight, let it count as my way of making it up to her." She laughed, a small bright sound a half-beat too soon. "Since she hates me this much, let's just not see each other 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 off in each other's arms across the lamplit deck, I knew. We were finished.

Five years of love turned to ash in that single moment.

All around, the gathered wives and made men kept the insults coming.

"So that's the Falcone woman who got ruined twice? She's a fallen thing herself, and she still has the nerve to give Signora Marchetti grief? Has she no shame? At least Signora Marchetti is pure. Not like her."

"No wonder the Don never brings her out before the Families these last few years. Afraid of the embarrassment, isn't he? A man like Lorenzo Falcone, and he weds a slut. Who even knows whose baby it was that she miscarried. Tsk, tsk. If word got out, the Falcone name would never live it down."

"Signora Marchetti is the one who suits the Don. I hear they were together since they were children. If she hadn't gone overseas, this one would never have gotten through the door. No one but the Don could be blind enough."

"..."

I stumbled back into the private lounge below deck.

The blood beneath me had already soaked through my dress.

It was only after I'd cleaned myself up that Lorenzo sent a message to explain:

"Don't read too much into tonight. Bianca is my brother's wife in name, after all, and half the men on this vessel are silent partners of the Family. You hurt her. It made me lose face before them. Making you apologize was only a show for outsiders."