He Planned a Fake Wedding, So I Took Our Son and Vanished

This year over the Christmas truce, my husband did something he'd never done before. He told me to step back from the Family's business, and arranged me a seven-day passage through Scandinavia.

I thought the Don had finally learned to care. Then I overheard him talking to our son.

Papa, if you and Aunt Vivian get married, what happens to Mama?

Marco Falcone's voice was small, uncertain.

"It's only a sham. A union on paper, nothing more."

Lorenzo Falcone gave a soft little laugh. "Be a good boy, Marco. Keep it between us. Don't tell your mother, and I'll buy you that toy car you've been wanting."

Something in my head went white. I stood there a long time, then turned and went down to stand in the cold of the estate courtyard for a while.

If he wanted to make up for everything he'd lost when Vivian Costa was exiled, fine.

Then I had the right to go after the dream I'd thrown away.

This passage to Scandinavia, I wasn't coming back from.

Once I'd cooled off, I went back upstairs and ran straight into Lorenzo in the hallway.

I looked at the flashy red suit he had on. "I thought you hated red," I said, puzzled.

"That was then, this is now. Red's the color this season. And I'm helping a friend try on his wedding suit, so I should dress for the occasion." Lorenzo reached for a fistful of excuses all at once.

But it hit me then. Vivian Costa loved red. And ever since she came back from exile, several red jackets had appeared in Lorenzo's closet. Red undershirts. Red socks.

So there had been signs all along.

"Trying on a wedding suit? Let me drive you," I said evenly.

"No, no need!" Lorenzo shook his head fast as a rattle. "What's a woman doing getting mixed up in men's business?"

"When I'm back, I'll bring presents for you and Marco."

He kissed my forehead, didn't wait to hear another word out of me, and hurried off, two of his soldiers falling into step behind him before the door had even closed.

My chest gave a sudden twist. I almost called out to him. In the end I just shook my head.

Everyone in the famiglia thought Lorenzo and I were the perfect couple in life, the sharpest partners across every sit-down.

He hadn't looked down on where I came from, the back streets of Brooklyn with nothing to my name. He'd married me without hesitation.

I worked nearly every day of the year, brokered the truces that pulled the Falcone Family back from ruin more than once when the books and the bodies were stacking up against us, and the made men gave me a name: the one who never sleeps.

Ten years side by side. We'd built more than a sweet son together. We'd rebuilt the name and the empire of the Falcones.

And only now did even I find out: Lorenzo had been carrying Vivian Costa in his heart the whole time.

I walked through the front door.

"Mama."

Marco rushed over and wrapped his arms tight around my legs. "No matter what, you'll never leave me and Papa, right?"

He'd sensed something. His small face was tight with fear.

My heart ached. I crouched down, smoothed his hair, and asked softly, "If one day Papa and I weren't together anymore, who would you want to stay with?"

Marco froze. Then he went completely silent, his eyes dropping to his own small hands, and they filled with tears.

"I'm sorry."

I held him close. "Let me go make you dinner."

He was only eight.

Two grown-ups' problems shouldn't be laid on a child, least of all in a house where everything carried a price.

We could have had the staff cook, like every other house in the Family. But Marco and Lorenzo both loved the food I made with my own hands.

I knew everything they couldn't eat and everything they liked, and tonight I made Marco's favorite, scrambled eggs with tomatoes and meatballs.

I made egg pancakes too.

When Marco saw the food on the table, he suddenly started to cry. He looked up at me. "Mama."

"You already know about Aunt Vivian and Papa getting married, don't you?"

"Papa told me it's only a sham marriage, just on paper. Mama, please don't be angry, okay? Papa loves you."

I let out a quiet sigh and gathered him into my arms.

I know.

His little head couldn't hold all those twists and turns, the way men in this world said one thing and meant another. He just believed Lorenzo, the way children do, and wanted his mama and papa not to split apart.

But the world of made men is never that simple.

Dinner was over.

I saw that one of Lorenzo's so-called soldiers had posted to his feed, and my eyebrows lifted on their own.

The photo of someone trying on a wedding suit didn't show a face, but there it was at the side of the neck, that small red mole.

Lorenzo had one too.

Another shot showed his fingers laced through a woman's, and on his ring finger you could see the faint dent a ring leaves behind.

I knew the watch on his wrist.

It belonged to Vivian Costa.

The caption read: "The moon I lost will always come back, and shine on me one more time."

The words were familiar.

I went into the study, pushed Lorenzo's laptop aside, and found a notebook pressed beneath it.

The moment I opened it, that exact line stared back at me.

Everything pointed to the same thing: this account didn't belong to any soldier. It was Lorenzo's own.

"The trip to Scandinavia."

"The made-up brother getting married, the fake messages."

"Lorenzo, for the sake of fooling me, for the sake of Vivian Costa, you actually dreamed up all these ridiculous tricks."

I murmured it to myself, then picked up my phone and sent a message.

Keep one of those partner slots open for me.

And have your consigliere draw up papers for my break from the Family.

A few months ago, a man I'd grown up with in the old neighborhood had asked me to build a crew with him in Scandinavia, his own rackets beyond the reach of any home Family. Thirty percent of the take, and I wouldn't have to put in a cent.

The other two backing it agreed, because they valued what I could broker at a sit-down.

But I had a husband and a son, and all I wanted was something steady, so I'd kept turning it down.

It was time to let go and reach for it.

Almost midnight.

Lorenzo came home drunk, no gift in his hands. His collar was undone, and there was a smear of lipstick on it too.

He looked like a mess.

"Babe, why aren't you asleep yet? Waiting up for me? You wicked woman, all you do is wear me out."

He grinned at me, then turned and went straight into the bathroom.

In the old days.

He would have pulled me into a hug first.

The thought sank through me like a stone.

Then I heard a muffled, choking sound, and I hurried to Marco's room.

"What's wrong? Bad dream?"

Marco shook his head and pointed one small finger at a phone screen.

I leaned in to look. It was a post from Vivian Costa's girl, Gemma Vitale, on her feed.

Gemma was sitting at a pink piano, hugging a tablet, beaming.

The caption: Thank you to the best dad in the whole world for my limited-edition custom piano.

"Mom."

"I've seen that piano on Dad's computer. The tablet too."

That one small, wounded sentence nearly broke straight through me.

Now I understood why Marco was crying.

Lorenzo was always saying, "Boys should be raised lean, or they'll grow up to waste the name."

So he was hard on Marco. When the boy wanted a toy, he almost never bought it.

Even this phone was my old one, passed down to Marco. And I'd sneak Marco out to have fun.

Every time Lorenzo found out, he'd get angry with me.

That was why he'd used a toy car to buy Marco's silence, his own blood heir bought off like an associate who'd seen too much.

And before he left this morning, he'd said he would bring gifts for Marco and me. He'd come back with empty hands.

Lying to me, deceiving me, fine.

But how could he shower another woman's girl with everything she wanted, and turn around and be so harsh and dishonest with his own son, the only true Falcone blood in this house?

"Sweet boy."

Marco had gone completely still by then, staring down at his own small hands, folding inward the way he did when something cut too deep for tears.

"Mom will buy it for you from now on."

I comforted Marco until he fell asleep, then went back to the living room and sat on the couch.

Waiting for Lorenzo to come out.

I held my anger down and asked, "Didn't you say you were bringing Marco a gift?"

"Forgot, forgot."

Lorenzo gave an awkward laugh, came over and wrapped his arms around me. "I'll get him something next time. Boys should be raised lean anyway."

He kept talking, his fingers trailing along my cheek.

Once, I'd wanted him in a way that started in the body, and a touch like this would have undone me. Now nothing moved in me at all.

"Whatever Gemma Vitale wants, the girl's people buy it. Today she was perched on a pink piano in the club's back room, a tablet in her lap, laughing like she owned the place."

I let the barb show on purpose.

Lorenzo blinked, then went off like a struck match, shoving to his feet, brow knotting. "Why does it always have to be about comparing yourself to someone else?"

"It's just one gift. What's with the tone? Are you picking a fight on purpose?"

"Is it Marco who wants the present, or is it you?"

I said nothing. I only lifted my eyes and held his.

The air went stiff between us, the way a room goes still when a made man reaches for his coat.

Something seemed to give in him. He looked away, and his voice dropped, much softer now.

"Tesoro, let's not fight. Marco's birthday is the day after tomorrow, and I'm going to give him a big surprise, I promise."

"You just keep your spirits up these next couple of days. Get ready for our seven days in Scandinavia."

I nodded and excused myself to the study, saying I had matters of the Family to settle.

The next day.

In the middle of the sit-down at the social club, with the inner circle gathered around the long table, Vivian Costa spoke up out of nowhere. "While Adriana's away these few days, surely someone has to carry her arrangements?"

"I'd like to put myself forward."

A smile curled at her mouth, and her eyes stayed fixed on me, edged with challenge.

A stunned beat. Then everyone turned at once to Lorenzo, waiting for his answer.

It was only seven days. At worst Lorenzo could carry her dealings himself, or hand them to one of his capos.

No one had expected Vivian to reach for that kind of standing to a fixer's face.

It was, frankly, absurd.

"Do as Vivian says."

Lorenzo drew a slow breath and looked at me. "Adriana, take your leave and don't worry about a thing. Hand your business to Vivian. She's more than capable."

The whole room went silent. Even the soldier by the door stopped chewing his toothpick.

This time every eye in it landed on me.

"Adriana."

"You don't actually think I'm trying to take your place at this table, do you?"

Vivian's smile widened, and the taunt in her voice sharpened right along with it. Her fingers grazed her collarbone, the laugh coming a beat too quick.

Everyone in the room caught the scent of a fight coming, the way men do before the guns come out.

Ten years brokering the Falcone Family's most dangerous truces, and not one person at that table didn't know I moved fast and hard and was no one to cross.

Even Lorenzo looked tense.

But I only smiled, and beneath the table my thumb turned the wedding band a half-rotation, weighing him one last time. "Fine. I agree."

No one had expected me to give up the seat so easily. Only Lorenzo let out a long breath, a smile breaking across his face.

Before she could get another word out.

I stood and walked.

Lorenzo came after me, catching my hand from behind.

"Tesoro!"

"Just hear me out."

I turned and cut him off. "Hear what? That this whole sit-down was aimed at me from the start?"

Never mind me. Anyone at that table with eyes could see it. Lorenzo was using me to clear the road for Vivian.

And it had started with the seven days in Scandinavia.

He'd buried it so deep.

That I hadn't seen it before then.

"Tesoro, let me explain. Really."

He spread his arms and pulled me in tight, his voice all earnest, the way a Don speaks when he still believes he can talk his way past blood. "Vivian's gifted. She can rise, bring fresh strength to the Family."

"I'm backed into a corner here. This was the only way I could think of."

"When you come back, I'll make you underboss, give you a seat above every capo we have, I promise. I hope you can understand."

Underboss?

Don't make me laugh.

There had never been such a seat carved out for a woman in the Falcone Family, not once since the old Don first claimed the docks.

It was the same as that present he kept swearing he'd give our son. A picture of a meal, nothing on the plate.

"Ten years."

"For ten years I've been understanding you. Making room for how hard things were for you."

I let a few seconds pass before I said it, almost a sigh.

"Right, tesoro, you're the best!"

And Lorenzo actually took it for me letting go of my anger. The compliment was enough. He turned and walked back into the room where the rest of the family waited.

I was clearing out my desk in the back office of the social club when Vivian walked in.

"I'm taking the whole crew out tonight. Come along, why don't you?"

She smiled at me.

"I'm busy."

I turned her down flatly and gathered my things to leave. Behind me, her voice followed.

"Ten years at his side. So what? It doesn't equal one glance from Lorenzo."

This time, all I could do was stay silent.

That afternoon.

Vivian posted in the inner-circle chat: Got my seat at the table today. Dinner's on me, everyone come out.

Lorenzo did nothing to stop it. He was the first to reply, and afterward he sent me a message.

Don't read too much into it, sweetheart.

I didn't answer.

That night.

Lorenzo and Vivian and the rest of the men were out somewhere, enjoying their dinner, glasses raised over neutral ground.

I was at home, packing.

"Mom."

Marco ran over and tugged at my hand. "Mom, are you leaving? Can't you wait a few days?"

"Tomorrow's my birthday. You said there'd be a big surprise. I'm going to wish that the two of you never split up. That Dad won't marry Aunt Vivian!"

"He'll say yes, I know he will!"

His small face was lost, the words tumbling out in no order at all.

"Okay."

I nodded gently, my thumb turning the wedding band a half-rotation before I caught myself.

Lorenzo didn't come home all night.

Marco and I didn't sleep at all.

"Dad's getting my surprise ready, I just know it!"

Marco watched the window, the morning light on his face as he said it. He'd gone very still, the way he did, staring down at his own small hands.

But one hour, then two. Right up until the sky went dark again, Lorenzo still hadn't come back.

I couldn't stop myself from calling him. "Today is your son's birthday. Where's the surprise you promised him?"

"Oh, that. It's in the nightstand. There are plane tickets to Scandinavia. Take Marco and go on a trip!"

Lorenzo was laughing. "I'm slammed today. I have to go."

The line cut off in a hurry.

I turned and took the tickets out of the nightstand.

So Marco had become an obstacle too, one more thing in the way of Lorenzo getting what he wanted.

Almost in the same moment.

That account Lorenzo kept under a soldier's name posted to its feed again.

Bound for life. When you love her, you give her everything she wants.

The picture attached was a stake in the Falcone empire, signed over in his own hand.

My hand closed into a fist.

Ten years.

I'd worked myself to the bone for the Falcone Family, brokering sit-downs no one else could survive, carrying the weight of ten men alone.

From the rules that kept the crew in line to the territory we pushed into, from the truces with rival Families to the docks we held, every one of those calls I'd hammered out, racking my brain over them.

And I drew the rank of any ordinary associate.

Now everything I'd built had been picked clean by Vivian, a woman who'd put in nothing at all.

"Mom."

"Dad's not coming, is he?"

My son's crying reached me.

I turned to look. He was clutching his phone, shaking, and on the screen Vivian's girl, Gemma Vitale, had posted to her feed too.

Thank you, Dad, for the little cake you made me yourself!

For a child, there's no blow that lands harder.

"Mom."

"I don't want to stay here anymore. Will you take me with you?"

Marco wiped at his tears.

"Okay."

I nodded, my own eyes wet, and finished the packing. I left the papers that broke me from the Family behind, slid the wedding band off and set it beside them, took Marco by the hand, and walked out the door.

We boarded the flight to Scandinavia.

...

Lorenzo and Vivian held their wedding, took a few days away, and didn't come home at all afterward. He went straight back to the social club for the standing sit-down.

His eyes swept the room, and he asked, puzzled, "Where's my wife? How come she's not here?"

Every man at the table shook his head.

"Don't tell me she's still out having too much fun," Lorenzo muttered, getting up and stepping out of the room to call me.

"Hey, sweetheart!"

"You never come in late. How come I didn't see you at the table? Are you not back from Scandinavia yet?"