Salvatore cooked for Vittoria himself every day, rich broths and hand-rolled pasta carried up to her rooms. He walked her through the estate gardens, took her into the city to spend without limit, and when the morning sickness came he cupped his own hands beneath her chin without a flicker of disgust.

He never missed a single visit from the family physician, staying at her side, his gaze filled with devotion as though she were the most precious thing the Marchetti bloodline had ever guarded.

I had begged Salvatore more times than I could count to choose a name for our child. He always took a long time to answer.

"Adriana, a name is just a label. Pick anything. I have business at the club. We'll settle it after the baby comes."

Yet the moment Vittoria was carrying his child, Salvatore already had a hundred names ready.

"Vittoria, what about Asha for our baby? It means a bright road ahead."

"Or Ethan? It carries wisdom, and a future that answers to no one."

"No. We'll call him Matteo. I don't care if he ever sits at the head of the table. I only want him safe. I want him to live a long life."

After every visit from the physician, he gave Vittoria a gift. A necklace off a jeweler's private tray. A limited car that never touched a showroom floor.

"Our Vittoria came through another checkup without harm. That calls for a celebration."

He gave her a castle in Europe when she was delivered of the child, safe and whole.

And me?

All I was ever given was a single line. "Adriana, thank you for the trouble you've gone to. I have a sit-down to attend."

So this was the distance between love and indifference.

I set the phone down, my heart cold and numb. Without a second thought, I booked passage out of the country three days from now.

I lay back against the hospital bed and stared at the ceiling, my chest filled with an unbearable emptiness.

I didn't sleep a single moment that night.

The next morning Salvatore, as always, had one of his associates bring me a proper meal.

I used to be touched by such thoughtfulness, believing that even when he wasn't beside me, he still cared whether I ate, whether I healed.

It wasn't until I remembered him moving around that kitchen the night before, cooking for Vittoria with his own hands, that I understood it was all for show.

I finally understood. This was not love. It was routine. A gesture that meant nothing.

Set against real affection, blood money was worthless.

Seeing that I hadn't touched a bite, Salvatore frowned, his voice filled with concern. "Adriana, why aren't you eating? Is it not to your taste?"

"It's nothing. I just miss the baby," I answered coldly.

Salvatore gave a low laugh. "You mean Matteo? I miss him too. I never understood it before, but now that I'm a father I can't stand to be away from him even a moment. Our Matteo is the most beautiful child in the world."

"My mother is beside herself now that there's a grandson to carry the name. She's been holding court at the old estate. We'll go and collect Matteo later."

I said nothing. I had already decided to leave, so none of it reached me anymore.

When we came to the old Marchetti estate, the moment we crossed the threshold I saw the matriarch and Vittoria at ease with the child, the two of them playing with Matteo like women who owned the place.

Vittoria wore something limited and expensive, her face bright, no trace of the exhaustion that childbirth leaves behind.

Carmela, doting on her grandson, was feeding Vittoria spoonfuls of bone broth from a good bowl, treating her like a daughter of the blood.

The moment Vittoria saw me she let a small smile cross her lips and turned to the matriarch, her voice dripping false modesty. "Zia, you really shouldn't spoil me like this. People will take me for your son's wife. Adriana might grow jealous. You ought to give her the broth instead. She's weak. She needs it more than I do."

Following her glance, Carmela looked at me, and her expression soured at once.

I was still in the bloodstained clothes from the day it all went wrong.

Disgust crossed her face. "Has my son ever let you go without food or clothing? Why do you present yourself like this? It's an ill omen. Are you trying to shame this family before everyone?"

"Look at Vittoria. She's only just given birth, and she carries herself better than you do. You're making a spectacle of nothing."

"You couldn't even conduct yourself properly while you were carrying, running around like a fool. It's a wonder that fall didn't kill you. And now you dare play the wounded one? If anything had happened to my grandson, I'd have had Salvatore sever the pact with you where you stood."

"You knew you were to nurse him, and still you took your medicine as you pleased. If Vittoria hadn't stepped in to feed him, my grandson would have starved because of you. You bring bad luck into this house."

The rosary in her hand snapped shut with a sharp click. "I'll say it plainly, here and now. Vittoria is my goddaughter. From this day she calls me 'Mother,' the same as Salvatore does."

I always knew the Marchetti matriarch didn't like me.

She believed I wasn't good enough for Salvatore, that I could never compare to Vittoria—her son's childhood love from the Bellini branch, beautiful, sweet-tongued, effortlessly charming.

It was only when Vittoria married into a bloodline overseas and I became pregnant that Carmela reluctantly acknowledged me as her son's sworn wife—for the sake of the child, for the sake of the line.

Even so, every time we met beneath the estate's high ceilings, she never spared me from her sharp-tongued ridicule.

In the past, Salvatore would at least defend me a little. And it was the Don himself who had insisted on dragging me out the day of the accident, saying he wanted to buy gifts for the heir soon to be born to the Family.

But now, his eyes were locked onto Vittoria, filled with an undeniable tenderness.

Vittoria cradled Matteo in her arms and playfully clung to Salvatore's sleeve.

"Salvatore, did you hear? The Matriarch has officially named me her comare, her godchild! Dear brother, have you a gift ready for your little sister?"

Salvatore pinched her cheek, indulgent, half scolding and half spoiling. "You're incorrigible. Don't call me brother."

Yet even as he spoke, he had a soldier carry in ninety-two mink coats—each from the finest houses, every one paired with jewels laundered clean of any history.

"I know you love fine things, but you're still recovering. You need to stay warm. Winter runs three months—ninety-two days exactly—so you'll have a different one for each."

Vittoria giggled and pressed a kiss to his cheek, the picture of a pampered, innocent girl.

"Some of these aren't even released yet—all limited pieces! And you had them brought to me early. Salvatore, you truly spoil me."

Then she turned her gaze to me, feigning concern, her fingers drifting to the hollow of her throat. "But you've given me so much... Adriana won't be angry, will she?"

Standing there in my bloodstained clothes, I looked like a complete fool beside her dazzling, extravagant display.

For a brief moment, Salvatore hesitated, as if suddenly remembering I still stood in the room. He tried, awkwardly, to explain. "Adriana, it isn't what you think. Vittoria has lived away from the Family so long—you know how different their ways are out there."

"And the coats... I only heard she'd recently given birth herself. Her husband isn't here, and since we came up together, I only thought—"

Before he could finish, Matteo began to cry.

Vittoria gasped. "Oh, is Matteo hungry again? Mommy will take you upstairs to feed you."

Then she turned to me with a falsely apologetic smile.

"Adriana, don't misunderstand. I'm simply used to soothing my own baby. And every time I say it, see how happy Matteo becomes."

She cradled Matteo and started toward the stairs—only to sag suddenly against Salvatore's chest, murmuring, "Sal, I feel a little dizzy..."

Salvatore shoved me aside at once and caught her in his arms, his face full of worry.

"How can this be? You're weak after the birth. I told you to rest at the center. Come, I'll carry you up."

My right leg was still bandaged from the accident.

With that sudden push I lost my balance and collapsed to the floor, pain shooting through me like a knife. But Salvatore didn't spare me a single glance.

Right there before everyone, he scooped Vittoria into his arms—holding both her and Matteo—and carried her toward the stairs.

The room erupted in ridicule. The made men and their wives who filled the Don's parlor let their voices drop into that low, poisonous murmur that carries further than a shout.

"No wonder the Don dotes on Vittoria. Beautiful, and kind enough to nurse another woman's child. Not like this useless one—so cheap, so embarrassing. Can't even bear a little pain in her leg, and took medicine while nursing besides. Selfish."

"Does she even deserve to be a mother? If you ask me, Vittoria is more the boy's true mother—she cares for him more, and see how the child even favors her. He'd rather not resemble that disgraceful creature. Vittoria and the Don, such a perfect match. A shame they were never bound."

Instead of standing up for me, the Matriarch looked at me with even deeper disgust. She scoffed, and the rosary in her fingers snapped shut with a sharp click as she turned on me.

"Still lying there like a dog? If you want to beg for food, get out and do it somewhere else! This bloodline doesn't feed worthless, lowly women like you!"

"You don't even care about your own son, and you can't keep your husband's heart. I heard you'll never be able to carry another child? My son binding himself to you is the worst misfortune of his life. Get lost. Just looking at you takes ten years off my life."

Carmela's rosary snapped shut in her fist, that small final sound telling the whole room the matter was closed. Humiliation washed over me like a tidal wave.

I clenched my fingers around my phone, where I had long since prepared the severing of the blood pact.

Without a word, I struggled to my feet, limping toward the study upstairs, past the soldiers who lowered their eyes and pretended not to see the Don's wife dragging one ruined leg across the marble.

I retrieved the printed severance agreement and slid it into my bag before heading to the guest room to look for Salvatore.

But he wasn't there.

Instead, I saw the nanny holding Matteo, who had just finished feeding and was sleeping soundly.

Frowning in confusion, I suddenly heard noises coming from our bedroom. Sounds that made my stomach turn.

The door wasn't fully closed.

Through the gap, I saw Vittoria straddling Salvatore, her blouse wide open as she cooed in a sickly sweet voice. "Sal, I have too much milk... Matteo's appetite is too small, and I'm so full it hurts~"

"I feel awful... Won't you help me relieve it?"

Salvatore hesitated. "Vittoria, don't... You gave birth two days ago. Your body can't handle it. You already risked everything, hiding the pregnancy from your husband to carry my child. I can't put you in danger again..."

Vittoria grabbed his head and pressed him against her chest. Her fingertips brushed the hollow of her throat, and her voice quivered exactly on cue. "Silly Sal, I'm not afraid, so what are you afraid of? I wanted to give you a child. My husband is always away on the Family's errands; he doesn't even know. Come on, spoil me a little. Don't you want to taste the sweetness of a love that's bled for you?"

Salvatore finally lost control. He leaned in, his lips sealing over her skin.

The sounds inside grew more obscene, making my stomach churn with nausea.

I couldn't take it anymore. I turned and fled the house.

Only when I inhaled the crisp air of the estate grounds did the suffocating weight in my chest lessen. But the tears wouldn't stop falling.

Salvatore, you knew I was just downstairs. How could you do this? In our bedroom?!

I slumped onto the stone steps, dazed, not knowing how much time had passed. Beyond the wrought-iron gate, an enforcer stood with his back to me, a silent shape against the dark, saying nothing, seeing everything.

Then, without warning, a foul-smelling liquid was dumped over my head.

I gasped in shock as the stench filled my nose.

Vittoria stood before me, her lips curled into a smug smirk.

"Adriana, how does my son's piss taste? Did you enjoy watching Salvatore lose himself in me?"

So this was intentional. She had wanted me to see everything.

"Tsk tsk, just look at you now. Your son is dead, and you're hobbling around on one leg. If I were you, I'd have ended it already. What's the point of living?"

She bent down, whispering cruelly into my ear. "Even though you were bound to Salvatore before the Family and gave him a child, so what? He still smothered your son for me and my baby, and made sure the Marchetti line would never come from your body again."

My breath hitched.

Vittoria held up her phone, tilting the screen toward me. Her answer came a half-second too fast, that hair-thin eagerness slipping through the mask. "I even recorded it for you. Want to see how your baby's little face turned from red to purple? It's quite a sight."

My entire body trembled violently.

I stared at the screen as my child... my baby... struggled for breath.

And then, slowly, he stopped moving.

I felt like I was suffocating too.

How could she speak of murdering an infant so casually, as if the killing of a bloodline heir were nothing at all?

Fury erupted within me.

I raised my hand high, ready to strike her. But before I could, Vittoria suddenly pulled a knife and slashed it across her own chest.

Bright red blood soaked through her blouse.

She shrieked in agony, the knife clattering to the marble.

In the next second, a force slammed into me, knocking me to the ground.

Salvatore cradled Vittoria protectively in his arms.

His furious voice rang out, searing through the air. "Adriana, are you insane?!"

I opened my mouth to explain, but before I could speak, Vittoria burst into pitiful sobs, her hand at her throat, her whole body shaking against him. "Sal, I was only afraid Matteo would go hungry, so I came to explain things to Adriana. But she said I was trying to steal her child... She swore she'd cut the breast off me so I could never feed him again."

She trembled, burying herself deeper in his embrace. "I was only thinking about the baby! How could she do this to me?!"