Pregnant with His Heir, Broke by His Love

The day I reached six months carrying the Vitale heir, my father was diagnosed with kidney failure.

The doctor said if we wanted to keep him breathing, we needed three hundred thousand dollars first.

I stood in the corridor clutching the payment slip, and I hesitated a long while before I finally dialed Lorenzo Vitale's number.

"Lorenzo, could you front me three hundred thousand for now?"

"My father's sick. The doctor says every day we wait, it gets more dangerous."

There was impatience in Lorenzo's voice, the kind a man uses on a debtor who's already borrowed too deep.

"Francesca Rizzo, that family of yours is a bottomless pit."

"Marrying into the Vitale name was the luckiest thing that ever happened to any of you."

"Don't think that because you're carrying my blood, you can put your hand out for whatever you please."

I gripped the slip tighter, my voice trembling.

"I'll pay it back someday"

Lorenzo let out a cold laugh.

"You're a wife who sits in my house growing a baby. What exactly are you going to pay me back with?"

"You married up so you could skim tribute off my name and prop up your father's house. Life doesn't settle its debts that neatly."

Then a girl's sugary voice came through from his end of the line.

"Lorenzo, thank you for the collar you bought Lucky. Four hundred grand? That's far too extravagant!"

Lorenzo's tone went soft in an instant. "As long as it pleases you."

I stood frozen where I was, a bitter ache spreading through my chest.

At the door of the hospital room, my mother grabbed my arm, her eyes red, her fingers already worrying the worn hem of her sleeve. "Francesca, let it go. Lorenzo works hard for what he has too."

My father's voice was hoarse. His hand rose to straighten the collar of his hospital gown, as though even here, even dying, he refused to let the sickness show in how he held himself.

"I won't take the treatment. Don't bow your head in that family for my sake."

I looked at the gray creeping into their hair, and all at once I felt how horribly wrong I'd been.

They hadn't raised me so I could stand here with a swollen belly, begging tribute from the men who owned me.

And certainly not so they'd be disgraced right along with me, under the eyes of witnesses.

I took the payment slip back and steadied them both.

"Pap, Mamma, this illness, we're treating it."

"From this day, we don't beg anyone for anything."

When I pushed open the study door with the dissolution papers I'd drawn up, Lorenzo was seated at the desk with headphones on.

What was on the screen wasn't the ledgers of the Family.

It was a horror movie.

In the little window in the bottom corner, a girl sat curled on a couch hugging a throw pillow, her eyes rimmed red.

The moment the door swung open, a scream came from his end of the call.

"Lorenzo!"

He tore off the headphones at once, and the tenderness on his face vanished completely the instant he saw me.

He frowned, his voice turning cold.

"Francesca, are you never going to let this go?"

"You followed me all the way to the study, interrupted my work, over three hundred thousand?"

I stood in the doorway, my fingers curling tighter and tighter.

So this was his work.

He'd told me the Family was busy, deals piling up, that he didn't want to disturb my rest, which was why he slept in the study so often.

I'd believed every word.

I was so afraid of wearing him thin that I didn't dare wake him even when my legs cramped in the dark.

Afraid of annoying him, I'd brace myself against the wall and make it to the bathroom alone, even when the sickness left my stomach burning with acid.

But it turned out, all those nights I thought he was awake handling the business of the bloodline,

he was watching movies with another woman, soothing her little fears, listening to her coo.

Something seemed to lodge in my throat, and it was a long moment before I held out the document in my hand.

"Take a look."

Lorenzo didn't even lift his head.

"Just give the reimbursement slip to Carmela Greco."

"She'll transfer this month's household allowance to you."

Watching him take it all for granted, the way a Don takes the loyalty of men who fear him, I suddenly found it absurd.

I slammed the papers down on the desk with all the strength I had and said:

"This is a dissolution of the union."

"Lorenzo, we're finished."

"I paid the down payment on this house. I want my share of that money back."

For a moment, Lorenzo's face went blank.

But he quickly lowered his head and cracked one knuckle of his right hand, slow, deliberate, and said:

"Fine. You can go now."

I bit my lip, still wanting to say something, but he clicked his tongue, impatient. The signet ring on his hand caught the low light as he waved me off.

"If you've got anything else, say it all now."

I shook my head in silence and turned to go.

The instant the heavy door closed behind me, I heard a girl's bright voice come through his phone.

"Your wife's asking for a dissolution! Aren't you going to go smooth things over?"

Lorenzo answered flatly.

"I wouldn't lend her the tribute, so she's sulking. That's all."

"She won't actually walk away from the Vitale name."

I stood outside the door, and a cold settled over my chest.

From the day I got pregnant, Lorenzo had made me leave my place in the Family's legal apparatus.

It was only because the doctors said his blood ran thin for children that we'd managed to have this baby at all, and nothing could be allowed to go wrong.

He said he brought in the cash to provide for me and the baby, so I could rest and carry the pregnancy in peace.

I gave it all up, going from the sharpest negotiator the Family had, trained to sit across from consiglieri twice my age and not blink,

to Signora Vitale, who waited inside the walls of the estate every day for her husband to come home.

But I soon learned that "never short on money" never once meant I was allowed to spend it.

When I bought prenatal vitamins, I had to send the receipt to Carmela.

When I ordered a single nightgown, I had to ask Carmela first whether it was appropriate.

When I went to the doctor for checkups, I had to keep even the car fare and wait for it all to be reimbursed against the household ledger at the end of the month.

Once, I only wanted to buy my mother a scarf, and Carmela folded her hands at her waist, lowered her eyes, and reported it straight to Lorenzo.

That night, he sat across the long dining table, the silver set down too deliberately, his tone as flat as if he were correcting a child who didn't know any better.

"Francesca, I pulled you out of the work so you could rest and carry the blood of this bloodline, not so you could learn from those small-minded women who marry into a name and then scheme every way they can to claw cash out of my hands."

I rushed to explain.

"I didn't. That day was my mother's sixtieth birthday. You'd sworn you'd come back with me to sit at her table, but something came up in the district, so I bought a scarf in your place"

Lorenzo's face went cold. He cracked one knuckle of his right hand, slow.

"In my place?"

"Francesca, don't go using my name to buy favor with your old family."

"Today it's a scarf. Tomorrow will you have me buying them a house, a car?"

"Since you carry the Vitale name now, you keep your distance from the blood you came from. Better to cut it clean while you can, before they drag you down into the gutter, and me with you."

That was the first time the thought of dissolution stirred in me.

But the next evening, when Lorenzo came home, he carried an elegant gift box, the kind that passed through the front's finest shops.

He wrapped his arms around me from behind, his voice low and rough.

"Francesca, I'm sorry."

"I spoke too harshly last night."

"It's just that I've watched too many women throw themselves at me for what my name can buy."

"Adriana swore on everything that she loved me too, back then, and in the end she left me for a richer protector."

"She made me feel like there's hardly a soul in this world who loves the man and not the money he sits on. So the moment you say the word, I lose my head."

He buried his face against my shoulder, as though he really were worn down to the bone.

The hurt in my heart suddenly turned into aching tenderness for him.

After that, I lived carefully by his rules, trying to prove that what I loved was him, not the fortune the Family sat on.

But later, sorting his coats for the wash, I found a shop's receipt tucked in a breast pocket.

It listed the date Adriana was returning to the country.

It also listed the diamond bracelet he'd given her, worth seven figures of Family tribute.

And under the gift box he'd handed me, pressed beneath the velvet, was a thin promotional card.

Free with any qualifying purchase.

I stood in the laundry room a long time, holding that flimsy little card, my hands going still.

That sincerity I'd been killing myself to prove, in his eyes, had been worth nothing from start to finish.

The second time I thought about dissolution came in that very moment.

That night, my emotions had churned too hard, and in the middle of the night a pain gripped my belly, cold sweat breaking out layer after layer.

Lorenzo tore into the bedroom with the color drained from his face, scooped me up, and ran for the hospital.

The doctor said my condition was dangerous, that the pregnancy needed to be stabilized at once.

Lorenzo stood outside the operating room and, for the first time, lost every shred of the composure that made men lower their eyes when he entered.

"I don't want you to save the baby! Save the mother! Did you hear me?! I said save the mother!!"

When I woke, he was sitting at the edge of the bed, his eyes bloodshot, his forearm still wrapped in bandages.

Carmela folded her hands at her waist and lowered her voice to tell me that on the way to the hospital, the car had nearly gone under a delivery truck.

It was Lorenzo who had thrown himself over me to shield me, his arm laid open by the shattered glass. More than a dozen stitches.

And he hadn't waited for the anesthetic to take hold before coming back to the room to watch over me.

I shrank away from the arm reaching for me and asked softly,

"Lorenzo, what exactly do you mean by all of this?"

Lorenzo looked at me with reddened eyes.

"All because of one gift, you're going to put us through all of this. Is that it?"

"Adriana just got back into the country. That gift was nothing more than common courtesy."

"You only saw a seven-figure necklace. You didn't see that every single thing under this roof, all of it, I bought for you and the baby."

"You couldn't sleep, so I had the mattress made to order for you."

"You couldn't stand the smell of oil in the kitchen, so I came home the moment business let me go, to make you soup with my own hands."

"I painted the nursery myself. I built the furniture for our child with these hands."

"I've worked to be a good husband, a good father. I never imagined that in your eyes, none of it could weigh against a single necklace."

He pressed a hand over the wound, looking at me with disappointment.

"Francesca, I can give you so much love. I'd lay down my life for you and the baby without a second's thought."

"But I can't give you money. I won't have money mixed into what we have."

After that, he started a cold war with me.

Whatever I said, he behaved as though the words had never reached him.

Every night he claimed the Family's business kept him late, and he slept behind a separate door.

He even went out of his way to needle me, saying I loved him with my mouth while my heart only counted his money,

just waiting for me to back down, to explain, to apologize.

But with Adriana he grew closer and closer, sitting down to dinners with her, taking her to gallery openings, throwing tribute at her feet to keep her smiling.

Carmela tried to reason with me. She folded her hands and lowered her gaze first, the way she always did before relaying the will of the house.

"Ma'am, the young master is only sulking. He loves you so. The money may never touch your hands, but is a single dollar of it not spent on you and the baby?"

"If I were you, I'd hurry and apologize. Promise never to quarrel with him over money again."

I opened my mouth, but my chest was knotted tight with misery.

I asked myself,

"Francesca, is that necklace truly so important?"

I looked at the floor scattered with the toys he'd carved by hand, at the nursery he'd painted himself,

and for one moment, I truly wavered.

But it was right then that my father was diagnosed with kidney failure.

I set my pride aside and went to Lorenzo, and didn't even dare to call it anything but a loan, a debt I would repay.

Yet all he gave me back was disgust and disappointment.

"Francesca, how can you still be like this?"

In that moment, I finally understood.

What I cared about had never been that one necklace.

It was that Lorenzo's love was an exam I could never pass.

I poured out everything I had to prove my heart was true, and still he found me wanting;

yet Adriana had only to exist, and he'd already marked her perfect.

Now this was the third time I wanted out of the union.

This time, I was going through with it.

I waited for Lorenzo on the living room sofa the whole night.

From dark until first light, the study door stayed shut.

Through that one door, Adriana's laughter drifted out now and then, and Lorenzo's voice, deliberately lowered, coaxing, soothing.

I sat on the sofa, gripping the dissolution papers in my hand, and what had begun as fury slowly drained away, until in the end there was nothing left but numbness. My thumb found the thin gold band on my finger and turned it, once.

Just before dawn, I couldn't hold out any longer and drifted off against the couch in the sitting room, half-conscious under the low tick of the mantel clock.

Somewhere between sleep and waking, someone gently laid a blanket over me.

My eyes snapped open and I grabbed his wrist.

Lorenzo froze mid-motion.

He looked down at me, and for a single instant something panicked flickered in his eyes before his face hardened again into the mask the Vitale name required.

Clutching at his sleeve, I asked hoarsely,

"The dissolution papers. Did you read them?"

Lorenzo's expression went cold in an instant.

"Francesca, are you done making a scene?"

He pulled his hand back, like he'd been holding it in all night and finally couldn't anymore.

"You want to end this union over three hundred thousand dollars?"

I looked at him, and suddenly the whole thing felt so absurd I almost laughed.

"Lorenzo, that money is what's keeping my father alive."

"You're willing to drape a four-hundred-thousand-dollar collar on Adriana's dog, but you won't lend me three hundred thousand to save my father's life?"

Lorenzo's fists clenched, his face dark. His right hand rose, and one by one he cracked the knuckles, slow and deliberate.

"The money is mine. How I spend it is my business. It's none of yours."

I stared at him, numb.

"But don't forget."

"For this marriage, for our child, I gave up my place at the family's table on my own."

"Every year of tribute I earned, my savings from before the wedding, every cent I handed to you."

"You were so afraid I'd married in for the bloodline's claim that you wouldn't even let me live in the house your family kept ready. You insisted we buy our own."

"This home, I bought it myself. I paid the down payment myself."

My voice was cracking, little by little.

"Lorenzo, all I asked was to borrow three hundred thousand."

"After everything I've given you over the years, isn't that more than three hundred thousand already?"

Lorenzo's face was ugly.

But what rose in his eyes wasn't guilt. It was disappointment.

"Francesca, you're tallying up money with me now?"

He looked at me like it pained him to the core.

"I love you so much I'd give up my own life for you and the baby, and now you're counting dollars with me?"

He stepped back half a pace, as if he were finally seeing me clearly.

"Adriana was right after all."

"You married me for the money."

"You never brought it up before because the time wasn't right."

"The second something happens to your father, you start figuring out how to pull cash out of my hands."

A dry, hollow laugh escaped me.

"Think whatever you want."

I pushed the dissolution papers across to him. The paper slid over the polished wood and stopped against his hand.

"I want out. I won't take a single cent of your money. All I want is to sell the house and take back the down payment I paid."

Lorenzo's face turned to ice.

"No. I won't dissolve anything."

"This house is our marital home. You don't get to sell it. My name is on the deed too, and as long as I don't sign, you can't move it. Don't even dream about getting a cent."

I looked at him, and suddenly I didn't even have the strength left to argue.

"Lorenzo, you say you love me."

"And yet you'd stand there and watch my father die."

I said softly,

"Your love. It's terrifying."

Lorenzo pressed his lips into a thin line, as if my words had stung him.

But in the end he only turned and walked toward the study.

"Think it over carefully."

"Kidney failure is a bottomless pit. It'll bleed you dry for the rest of his life."

"You can choose the blood you came from, the ones who'll need you pouring money into them forever, or you can choose me and the baby."

"Francesca, it's your decision."

The study door closed again, and the lock turned with a small, final sound in the quiet house.

Lorenzo seemed to have forgotten that before I became the caged wife of a Don's heir, I had been the sharpest mind in a family's legal apparatus.

And what I was best at was severing unions like this one.

I'd left one last shred of dignity for our marriage, but now he'd torn it away.

Lorenzo's threats meant nothing to me anymore.

I wouldn't choose him.

I dialed the shylock's number.

"Yes. I want the money."

"My house as collateral."

"I don't care what the vig is. I need it today."

The moment the debt cleared, I went straight to the hospital.

I didn't just cover the three hundred thousand.

I paid for every treatment to follow, switched him to the finest medications, hired a private nurse, booked the best single room the ward had.

When they wheeled my father into the room, my mother sat beside the bed, looking like she could finally breathe.

Watching them, worn out and uneasy, I felt a sharp ache in my chest.

If I hadn't married into the Vitale blood.

All of this, I could have done with ease.

It was love that had stripped me down to nothing, one step at a time.

The door flew open with a kick.

Lorenzo stormed in, eyes bloodshot, Adriana Bellini trailing behind him like a shadow that knew exactly where the knife was.

He took in the private room, then the receipt on the table, and his face darkened in an instant.

"Francesca! Adriana told me you were here throwing tribute around, buying up a VIP room, and I didn't believe her."

"I never thought you'd actually have the nerve."

He crossed the room in a few strides, his voice frighteningly cold.

"Where did this money come from?"

My mother shot to her feet in fright, the hem of her sleeve already twisting between her fingers.

"Lorenzo, please, don't be angry."

"We won't stay here. We'll move back to a regular room right away."

"It's our fault for being a burden on Francesca. Please, don't let us come between the two of you."

My father braced himself against the bed, straightening the collar of his gown with trembling fingers, trying to sit up.

"Francesca, I won't take the treatment."

"Don't tear your life apart for my sake."

My eyes burned at their words, and I stepped right in front of them.

"Get out."

Lorenzo's expression shifted.

"Francesca, who do you think you're talking to?"

I stared him down.

"I told you to get out. Don't disturb my parents' rest."

Adriana tugged gently at Lorenzo's sleeve, her fingers drifting to the bracelet at her wrist, turning it once.

"Francesca, you suddenly come up with this kind of money. Of course Lorenzo's going to wonder."

"You're still carrying his blood. Don't do anything to betray the Family."

My father shook with rage and climbed straight off the bed.

"You apologize to her!"

"My daughter is decent and honest. You've no right to drag her name through the mud!"

Adriana instantly shrank into Lorenzo's arms, eyes red, and cried out:

"Lorenzo, he's going to hit me!"

Lorenzo's face changed in a flash, and he shoved my father aside.

"Who said you could touch her!"

My father slammed hard into the nightstand, the corner of his forehead splitting open at once, blood streaming down his face.

He collapsed to the floor, lips white, without even the strength to cry out in pain.

My mother screamed and threw herself toward him.

"Matteo!"

My mind went blank with a roar, and I rushed out shouting:

"Doctor! Somebody, help!"

Lorenzo froze where he stood, staring at his own hands, the fury on his face finally giving way to panic.

"I didn't mean to. I just didn't want him hurting Adriana."

I stood up and slapped him hard across the face.

"And Adriana spreading filthy lies about me, that's fine?"

Lorenzo's head snapped to the side from the blow, and Adriana rushed to steady him, all tenderness.

"Lorenzo, don't blame Francesca. She's just too worked up right now."

Lorenzo looked at me, eyes red.

"Francesca, I'll ask you one last time. Where did the money come from?"

I went very still. My thumb found the thin gold band on my finger, and I turned it once, slow, before I let out a cold laugh and held the phone up to his face.

The shylock's ledger was right there, clear as day.

"See it?"

"A debt. My house against the vig."

"High interest. Cleared today."

Lorenzo's pupils contracted sharply.

Are you insane?

Who gave you leave to put our home up against a shylock's ledger?

Adriana frowned right along with him, her fingers drifting to the bracelet at her wrist, turning it slow.

Francesca, how could you be so unreasonable?

Lorenzo lavishes tribute on you, and here you are, bleeding him dry for cash.

How is that any different from every gold-digger who ever crawled to a made man's door?

I looked at her and smiled.

Shut your mouth.

Her face went white.

I turned to Lorenzo.

I told you long ago I wanted the union dissolved.

Sell the house. All I'll take back is the one million I put down on it.

Weren't you the one so afraid I was after your money?

Dissolve this union now, and I'll see to it the debt never touches your name.

Lorenzo stared at me, hard.

There will be no dissolution.

Whatever you borrowed, I'll settle it. Every dollar.

My smile turned colder.

You settle it, and I'll borrow more.

Once the house is mortgaged to the last brick, I'll borrow on the strength of being a Vitale wife.

Tell me, Lorenzo. If I truly turned into a deadbeat with a shylock's mark on my back, would you and the whole Family go down into the gutter with me?

Lorenzo finally froze, as if he were seeing me for the first time.

Francesca, you're insane.

I can get a lot more insane.

Right there in front of him, I dialed the Donna.

I want the union with Lorenzo dissolved. I won't take a cent beyond the down payment on my house.

Within ten minutes, I want one million in my account, and I want his signature on the papers.

Otherwise, I go to the worst shylock in the district right now, and I borrow in the name of a Vitale wife.

Every minute you're late, another million. As long as Lorenzo and I are husband and wife, even for one minute, that debt lands on the honor of your blood. I'll drag the Vitales, I'll drag Lorenzo, I'll drag every last one of you straight down to hell with me.

The Donna's voice came back at once, sharp as a wire.

Francesca, are you insane?

I said calmly,

The clock starts now.

Ten minutes later, Donna Vitale walked into the hospital with the Family's consiglieri and two enforcers a half-step behind her.

A soldier took Lorenzo by the shoulder and forced him down before the papers.

Lorenzo wrenched against the grip and looked at me, eyes bloodshot.

Francesca, do you really have to do this?!

Do you really have to bring it to this between us, over money?!

All I said was, Sign.

The light in his eyes died, bit by bit. He stared at me in despair, his voice going hoarse.

I can pay the debt back. I can pay for your father's treatment too.

Stop this, please?

We can't dissolve it.

We have a child.

I looked coldly at the Donna. She lifted her reading glasses from her face, folded them once along the hinge with slow, deliberate fingers, and gave the enforcers the smallest nod.

A soldier pressed the pen into his hand. The consigliere flipped the pages to the line waiting for his name.

He gripped the pen so hard the veins stood out on the back of his hand. Somewhere down the corridor, a monitor beeped and beeped, and no one in the room moved.

Francesca.

Say something.

Say you were wrong, say you won't borrow the money. Tell them to stop.

I stood right where I was, not even a flicker in my eyes.

Lorenzo's eyes were terrifyingly red.

Held down under the soldier's grip on his shoulder, his fingers trembled so badly he could barely hold the pen.

When the tip touched down, it gouged deep lines into the paper, but he signed his name all the same.