Chapter 3

Livia didn't lose the baby.

The hospital even confirmed she only had mild abdominal pain.

It was two in the morning when Adrian came home.

He took off his coat and saw me sitting in the living room.

"Still up?"

"Waiting for you."

He stopped for a moment.

I pushed the divorce papers across to him again.

"Sign."

Adrian stared at the papers.

"Not this again."

"This is the last time."

He went to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a whiskey.

"Sera, you're just upset because of Livia.

"I'll handle things with her."

"How are you going to handle it?"

"After the baby's born, I'll give her some money."

"And what about her after that?"

He didn't answer.

"Do you love her?"

"That doesn't matter."

I laughed.

"Of course it doesn't matter to you.

"Because you want to keep both options open."

Adrian's face darkened.

"Don't make it sound so ugly."

"Then you make it sound nicer."

I pointed at the papers.

"Sign."

He stood there holding his drink for a long time.

Finally, he picked up the papers.

I thought he was finally going to sign.

But a lighter flared.

Flames climbed up from the corner of the page.

I watched him burn the second set of divorce papers to ash.

"I told you.

"A Moretti marriage only ends in death."

I didn't lose my temper.

I just nodded.

"Fine."

This time, he was the one who frowned.

"What do you mean, 'fine'?"

"Nothing."

I stood up.

"I just wanted to be sure you'd used up your last chance."

The next day, I went to the old archives.

That was where we kept the records from our most chaotic early years.

A lot of those operations were legitimate now, but not all the old records had been destroyed.

I'd only meant to find the compensation records for that kidnapping ten years ago.

Instead I turned up a security deployment order.

It was dated the day I lost my baby.

It read:

[Once the target enters the warehouse, the backup team at the perimeter is to withdraw for 20 minutes.]

Approved by: A.M.

Adrian Moretti.

I stared at those two letters as my palms slowly went cold.

I kept reading.

There was also a scanned email.

It was from Adrian's personal assistant at the time.

[Confirming the plan: create chaos, but cause no actual harm to Serafina. She needs to learn the cost of ignoring orders.]

The reply was one line.

[Scaring her is enough.]

I sat on the floor of the archive room and didn't move for a long time.

That kidnapping wasn't entirely fake.

The enemy was real.

The fighting was real too.

But Adrian had known ahead of time.

He'd even made sure word got out that I'd be the one coming.

He wanted me to back down after one failure and let him take charge of all the negotiations, contacts, and dealings with outsiders again.

He hadn't planned for me to lose the baby.

He'd only planned for me to be afraid.

This was his idea of "protection":

First, he created the danger.

Then he made himself the only person who could save me.

I made copies of every file.

When I got home, Adrian was in the kitchen.

He hardly ever cooked.

But that day, he'd made the pasta I loved most as a kid.

"It's raining hard today," he said.

"Your stomach's going to hurt."

I stood in the kitchen doorway and looked at the man I'd known better than anyone for more than a decade.

For the first time, he felt like a complete stranger.