Chapter 3

Over time, I fell in love with her sincerity and innocence.

She used to blush shyly and say she simply wanted to be kind to me.

And so, we fell in love, took the vows, and had a child.

Knowing her pride, and how she would never abandon the ruins of her bloodline,

I willingly took the Falcone name and played the powerless in-law, standing behind her in the dark, feeding her the strength of a throne she never knew she leaned on.

With my hand guiding it, she dragged the Falcone rackets back from collapse and rose until no name in the province commanded more tribute than hers.

But power changed her.

She was rarely home.

When I gently asked her to spend more time with our son, the woman who once swore she'd never look down on anyone gave me a disdainful look and said, "What do you know? You're only married in."

"Do you think all I have to do is sit at home minding a child, like you? If I didn't bleed for this Family out there every day, could you and our son live behind these walls in peace?"

Her words pierced through me.

Her growing arrogance slowly crushed the last of my hope.

Still, I was grateful.

She had given birth to my son. A bright, brilliant boy.

And all I ever wanted was to raise him well and see him rise above the blood.

So I tolerated her.

Again and again.

I never imagined that my patience would become permission.

That she would betray me, carrying another man's child.

That her carelessness would cost our son his life.

After he died, there was nothing left binding me to this Family.

And whatever love I had for Regina vanished along with him.

Lost in these thoughts, I arrived at the Falcone estate, carrying my son's death certificate inside my coat.

Inside, the province's every ruling name had gathered for the Family's thirtieth-year celebration. Bosses of allied lines, socialites, men who owned judges. The whole upper table of the Cosa Nostra sat under one roof, and the air smelled of old wine, cigar smoke, and the faint garlic warmth of a kitchen kept running for show.

Regina stood at the center, radiant in an elegant gown, her expression proud and aloof, a woman basking in a glory she believed she'd built with her own hands.

Rocco, dressed in a tailored suit cut to hide the piece at his hip, held her by the waist, looking at her as if she were the only person in the world.

I stepped inside, expressionless. Near the door, a soldier straightened, then thought better of stopping me.

As I neared, I heard Rocco's voice. He was pouting like a child, sounding pitiful.

"Regina, I'm sorry. It's all my fault your husband wants to tear up the pact."

Regina smiled at him sweetly, her voice so soft it was almost a whisper.

"Silly. I hold the purse and Lorenzo loves me more than life itself. There's no way he'd walk from this marriage. He's just throwing a tantrum. Don't take it to heart."

But the moment her eyes met mine, all tenderness vanished. Her gaze turned icy.

"Lorenzo, didn't I tell you to bring your son to the sit-down today? How dare you show up alone."

Around us, the murmurs of the powerful began, low, the way a table goes quiet when someone unwelcome walks the floor.

"So that's the in-law the Falcones took in? Looks like he loads trucks down at the docks."

"Just a kept husband. No wonder Regina always kept her own man close."

"With that rustic look? He isn't fit to stand in the same room as Regina."

Their snide remarks only deepened Rocco's smug smile. He touched the knot of his tie, the grin coming a half-second too fast.

Then, putting on a display of false humility, he looked at me with watery eyes, as if he were the one who'd been wronged.

"Lorenzo, I know it's my fault. I put a child in Regina and set the two of you against each other."

"If you're angry, take it out on me. Don't take it out on your son. Don't dress like you're at a wake and show up alone on a day like this."

"You know what this night means. Every ranking name in the province is watching. Are you trying to humiliate Regina and shame the whole Falcone line?"

His sanctimonious act drew approving glances from the crowd.

Even Regina's expression softened, touched by his "consideration."

But I simply looked at him, calm and cold.

"I don't care if you enjoy being another man's shadow in her bed," I said flatly.

"But don't ever bring up my son."

"You're not worthy."