I Kept His Family's Secret for Eight Years, He Let His Mistress Kill Our Baby

At the Moretti Family's gala, the kind of night when every old bloodline in the territory came to drink and measure each other across the room, Bianca Russo shoved me, and I went down hard onto the marble.

She crossed to me in those four-inch heels, the soldiers along the wall pretending not to see, and drove a heel straight into my swollen belly.

In an instant red bloomed across the white of my dress.

Lorenzo Moretti turned his head a fraction and looked at me, brow creasing.