The Baby That Wasn't Mine

When I was eight months pregnant, carrying the Marchetti heir, someone pushed me from the second-floor landing of the estate. I crashed to the marble below, pain searing through me as blood pooled around my body.

In a frenzy, my husband, Salvatore, the Don himself, carried me out to the car and summoned the surgeons the Family kept on quiet retainer, men who asked no questions and signed no records. By some mercy, they saved the baby.

When I woke, however, neither the baby nor Salvatore was at my side.

I struggled to rise, limping through the sterile corridors, searching every room. It was not until I reached the cold storage at the end of the wing that I overheard my husband speaking low with the doctor.

"Don Marchetti, the child was still breathing. How could you smother him? He is your own blood."

"Better he goes early and finds another life. He never should have drawn breath in this one." Salvatore's voice came flat and cold. "Vittoria gave me a son yesterday. I gave her my word that our boy would be the only heir to the Marchetti name. I will not have anyone contest what is his."

Hearing it all, I felt my blood run cold. The happy family I had dreamed of was only my delusion. The union I had been so proud of, the pact sworn before the whole famiglia, was nothing but a cold hell.

If that was the truth of it, then it was better to leave.

The doctor hesitated, his face torn. "But Don Marchetti, if you mean to pass Vittoria's child off to your wife, what happens when she learns the truth?"

"Newborns all look the same. She won't see it. I'll bring the boy to her shortly." Salvatore answered as though discussing a shipment. "Dispose of the body the way we dispose of things. And give me the sterilization drug your people have been developing. I'll see that Adriana takes it."

The doctor went still, then spoke in an urgent rush. "Don Marchetti, you've already taken your wife's child to seat Vittoria's in the bloodline. Why sterilize her too? Isn't that too cruel?"

The chill of that cold room seemed to bleed out into the hall, yet Salvatore's words were colder still.

"I promised Vittoria our son would never want for anything in this life, and that no other child of mine would ever rise to compete for his place. She belongs to another man's house now. I want her to rest easy all the same."

The doctor's reluctance did not fade. "Don Marchetti, I must warn you. This drug is still in trials. It has never been given to a living patient. The side effects are severe. Can you truly carry that?"

Salvatore paused, and let out a slow breath. "I have no choice. Adriana will wake soon. If I have them take her womb now, she'll grow suspicious."

"She'll have to endure it. I'll make it up to her after. But I cannot allow Adriana to carry again."

Just then his phone rang. He pressed the speaker, and a man's pleased voice crawled out into that cold room.

"Don Marchetti, the five million came through. Don't trouble yourself, I'm leaving New York tonight. Your wife will never know it was your order that put her down those stairs. Heh."

Then footsteps came toward the door.

Ignoring the pain screaming through my leg, I staggered back to the ward.

Thinking of my dead child, I clutched my chest, trying to hold in the anguish as tears fell on my bandaged leg.

So it had been no accident, that fall down the stairs. It was my own husband clearing an obstacle from the path of the woman he loved and the child she'd given him.

My baby had been saved on that table, only to be smothered by the hands of his own father.

To Salvatore, we, mother and child both, were nothing but stones in his road.

"Adriana, you're awake?"

Salvatore came in cradling an infant and sat beside me with a smile. "Look at our son. Doesn't he look just like us?"

"Cara, thank you for giving me such a beautiful boy. I'll be a good father to him." He grinned.

I looked at the baby sleeping peacefully in his arms, and my heart ached.

Salvatore was wrong. No mother mistakes her own child. The boy had his brow and his eyes, but the nose, the chin, were Vittoria's, near enough to be traced.

That was their child.

But my son was now a cold and lifeless corpse!

"Adriana, does your leg still hurt? Here, take something for the pain." Salvatore looked at me, his thumb rolling that heavy signet ring in slow circles the way it always did when he was calm, in control, sure of every card on the table. His eyes were filled with the same tenderness as always, but I knew now. It was all just an illusion meant to deceive me.

I looked at the pills in his hand and recalled what I had just overheard through the door of this quiet estate room, where even the walls kept the Family's secrets.

Taking a deep breath, I said, "Salvatore, the medicine is too bitter. Can I take it later?"

'You've already killed my child. Can't you at least leave me the right to be a mother?'

Salvatore hesitated for just a second before smiling and patting my head. "You're a mother now, yet you're still acting like a child? Giving birth was already hard on you, and now your legs are hurting. I couldn't sleep all night worrying about you, Adriana. Just take pity on your husband, will you? I still have a son to raise like a proper father."

"Don't worry. I put honey in the water. It's sweet. Come now, let me feed you."

'No. That is not my baby. It's yours and Vittoria's!' I screamed inside.

He brought the pill to my lips, leaving me no room to refuse, the way a Don leaves no room in a sit-down once he has already decided.

A chill spread through my body. I closed my eyes and swallowed the pill dry, refusing the honeyed water.

I didn't want that kind of fake sweetness.

The drug hit quickly. A searing pain burned through my lower abdomen, as though flames were consuming me from the inside, or as if someone were slicing me open with a knife. Blood gushed from between my legs.

"Adriana, what's wrong?!"

Salvatore shouted for the doctor, the Family's own man, the one who kept his mouth shut for a price. The pain was unbearable, and I passed out.

In my daze, I heard the doctor's voice.

"Don Marchetti, the drug has completely corroded her uterus. She will never carry a child again."

Salvatore let out a long, slow breath of relief.

When I woke again, his eyes were red, his face filled with grief as he gazed at me. "Adriana, the doctor said you lost too much blood after the birth... He said you won't be able to have children anymore."

"Don't be sad. Thank God we already have Matteo. He'll grow up to be a good son to you."

Matteo?

He had already given Vittoria's child a Marchetti name, this fast?

Salvatore wouldn't let the nurse clean me. Ignoring the fastidious cleanliness the whole Family knew him for, he fetched the hot water himself and carefully wiped away the blood.

He told me the matriarch, his mother, wished to see her firstborn grandson, the heir to the bloodline, and had already taken the baby to the main house.

By the time the estate went quiet, it was deep in the night.

I looked at his faintly tired face and forced a weak smile. "I'm fine. You've been on your feet all day. You should rest now."

Salvatore kissed my forehead. "All right. If you need anything, wake me. Tomorrow I'll take you to see Matteo. From now on, the three of us will live happily, as one famiglia."

After he fell asleep, I quietly picked up his phone.

To prove his devotion to me, Salvatore had never set a lock on it. That, too, had been part of the performance.

But I had never known he kept a second life inside it, a hidden system, and the code to open it was Vittoria's birthday.

The moment the screen changed, the wallpaper became a photo of the two of them from their university days, back before the vows, back before the alliance he'd sworn to me before the Family.

His messenger held a single contact. Vittoria.

I opened their thread. The first thing to load was a photo of her cradling a newborn.

[Salvatore, look at our beautiful boy. He's going to be as handsome as you when he grows.]

That baby looked exactly like the one Salvatore had carried to my bedside earlier that night.

The further I scrolled, the colder my heart became.

Through all eight months I carried his child, Salvatore had been forever away on "the Don's business." The days he had actually spent at my side I could count on my fingers.

I hadn't wanted to pull him from the work of the Family, so I bore the sickness and the exhaustion alone, going to every checkup by myself.

And now I knew. Those errands, those long shadow nights away, had only ever been the road to Vittoria, to her side, to her and the child growing in her.

Among the thousands of photos buried in that phone, every single one recorded Vittoria's journey from the first swell of pregnancy to the birth.

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 Vittoriaher 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 wifefor 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 coatseach 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 monthsninety-two days exactlyso 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 yetall 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 longyou 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 stairsonly 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 armsholding both her and Matteoand 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 oneso 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 mothershe 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?!"

Salvatores face darkened as he glared at me. "You were the one who fell down the stairs and broke your leg. Thats why things turned out this way. Why are you taking it out on Vittoria?"

"Youre not a good mother. You took medication and couldnt nurse your own child. Vittoria was kind enough to help, so what right do you have to lash out at her? Just because you dont care about your child, does that mean no one else is allowed to?"

Im not a good mother? I dont care about my child?

Tears streamed down my face as I roared at him in fury, "Im not a good mother?! Then what about you?! Do you dare to tell me why I fell down the stairs? Where is my child? And what exactly was in that medication I took?!"

Salvatores brow drew together. "Matteo is sleeping soundly in the nursery, of course. And the medication was only for the pain in your leg. You knew that already."

"As for why you fell, that was your own carelessness. With so many soldiers in that house, why were you the only one who got pushed? Youre useless, and yet you have the nerve to lay a hand on Vittoria? Youre a mother too. How could you be so cruel to another mother? Apologize to her. Now."

Yes. So many men in that house. And yet I was the only one pushed.

I looked at him. So certain of himself, so at ease inside his own lies, his thumb turning that heavy signet ring slow and lazy around his finger the way it always did when nothing in the world could touch him. And suddenly, I laughed.

That was my husband. The Don I had been bound to before the Family.

A liar.

A murderer.

I picked up the knife from the ground.

With every scrap of strength left in me, I dragged the blade across my chest, again and again, cutting deep until the front of my dress went dark and soaked through with blood.

Salvatores eyes widened in horror. "Adriana! What are you doing?! Stop it!"

I dropped the knife and met his gaze, calm as still water. "Youre right, Salvatore. I shouldnt have hurt a mother. So Im atoning for my sins. To your beloved. Is this enough sincerity for you?"

With that, I turned and walked away.

Blood dripped from the wounds, leaving a trail behind me down the marble.

My steps were unsteady, but I never looked back.

Salvatore hesitated. For half a breath his hand lifted toward me on instinct. But Vittoria wound herself around his neck, her fingers grazing the hollow of her throat, her voice thin and pitiful and right on cue.

"Sal, it hurts so much... Can you take me to a doctor? We cant let Matteo go hungry."

Salvatore wavered a moment.

Then he made his choice. He gathered Vittoria into his arms and walked the other way.

A few hours later, my phone rang.

Salvatores voice was gentle, almost coaxing. "Adriana, have you tended to your wounds? Dont worry. I made sure the medicine Vittoria used wont affect her nursing. Im sorry for what I said earlier."

"But the doctor confirmed the medication you took wasnt suitable for a nursing mother. Vittoria has plenty of milk, and formula isnt as good for him. Matteo still needs her. Im only looking after her to show my gratitude. Dont read too much into it, all right?"

I answered without feeling. "Im fine. Take good care of her. Make sure the child doesnt go hungry."

"I always knew my wife understood me best." Salvatore chuckled low. "I already spoke with my mother. She wont come at you anymore."

"You gave a son to this bloodline. Thats no small thing. The day after tomorrow, Im holding a feast in your honor at the estate. Consider it my way of making it right. Be good and wait for me."

That night, every mouthpiece the Family owned ran the same segment.

"In a stirring show of devotion, the honorable Don Marchetti summoned the finest physicians in the country by private helicopter, all for the sake of a wifes minor wound."

In silence, I took out the disinfectant and the hemostatic powder and tended to myself with the barest, most necessary care.

The next day, Salvatore still didnt come home.

I gathered up everything I owned and gave it all away. Then I took our union pact, the one sanctified before the Family, the one I had once held so close to my heart, and tore it into pieces, and dropped them in the trash.

On the third day, just past noon, Salvatores message came in.

[Adriana, Ive finished my business. Im going to the hotel to check on the arrangements. One of my men will come for you this afternoon.]

But in that same moment, he was walking through a high-end arcade with Vittorias hand in his and Matteo cradled against his chest, moving from one luxury jeweler to the next.

All around them, envious eyes trailed their every step.

"The Don truly adores his wife and child. My commissions for the next twenty years are as good as made. What a picture that little family makes."

"But I heard the Don booked the cheapest banquet room at the hotel today. Supposedly to celebrate the birth of his son."

"You must be mistaken. A man who spoils his wife like that, would he really pinch pennies? Did you see the necklace at Madam Marchettis throat? He bought it this very morning. That one piece could pay for ten banquets."

I heard every word.

I stood on the upper floor, a new suitcase just paid for at my side, and watched them, my heart gone completely numb.

I didnt bother answering his message. Instead I took out the severing of the blood pact and a handful of other documents, and arranged for a courier to carry them straight to the banquet hall.

Once it was done, I slid my sunglasses on and went straight for the airport.

A few hours later, Salvatore finally finished the shopping with Vittoria and Matteo. They arrived at the hotel, expecting a grand celebration.

Instead, they were told that Adriana had never come.

Salvatore glanced at his watch. More than an hour past the appointed time. Something cold stirred low in his chest. Adriana had never once been late for anything between them.

Just as he reached for his phone to call her, one of his men came running, panic written all over his face.

"Boss. Trouble. The Madam is gone. Someone just had these delivered."