Chapter 3

That night my contractions settled into a rhythm.

Matteo's encrypted phone rang at the same time. He listened, and his face went dark. He said there was a traitor at the south docks and he had to go now.

I caught his cuff and told him the pain was bad, asked if he could stay until the doctor came. I did not cry and I did not ask him to give up his work. I only wanted to give myself one last chance to see whether he would choose me when I truly needed him.

He held me, his voice low and steady. "Elena, I'll be back soon." Then he told someone to send for my mother, and left with his convoy.

On the estate's maternity-monitor screen, Matteo's car did not head for the south docks. It turned toward Belladonna Apartments. I watched the red line move, and the last small hope in me quietly went out.

I called Luca Romano, an old friend of my mother's, and asked him to follow from a distance. I told him not to cross into anyone's territory and not to start anything. I only wanted to see it once for myself. Luca was silent for a long time, then draped a coat over my shoulders.

The wipers dragged across the windshield. I pressed a hand to my belly as the pain came in tighter and tighter waves. Clearer than the pain was one fact: Matteo had saved his softest words for me and his real actions for someone else.

When Luca stopped at the mouth of the alley he asked if he should call Matteo. I shook my head. If a man has to be told his wife is in labor before he knows to turn around, nothing said on that call would mean anything.

I sent my mother my location but did not tell her the truth. I only said I wanted the lemon chicken soup she made. Then I leaned back against the seat and heard how ragged my breathing had become. The baby moved constantly, and I whispered that I was sorry, that I had wanted to give her a whole family.

By the end of it, I corrected myself. A father did not make a family whole. Safety did.

The moment the armored entrance to Belladonna Apartments opened, Bianca threw herself into Matteo's arms.

Through the rain and the car window, I watched him check her for injuries, then take the black lion charm from his inner pocket and fasten it around her neck. That charm belonged beside my daughter's cradle. It was the Moretti Family's highest symbol of protection. He lowered his head and promised Bianca he would protect "their bloodline."

Bianca said she was frightened, so he wrapped a bulletproof coat around her himself and helped her into the car. The convoy turned toward the private clinic. My own checkups had mostly been with a secretary beside me. I used to invent reasons for him. He was busy, he carried too much, he would always come back.

Luca asked if I wanted to go home. I leaned into the seat and said quietly, "It isn't that he can't take care of someone. It's that I was never the one he most wanted to take care of."

Saying it out loud, I stopped shaking. I photographed the handover of the charm and told Luca to keep following. Outside the window the neon smeared into long thin lines in the rain, like a funeral arriving late. What was being buried was not a man. It was every illusion I had kept for him all these years.

After the convoy pulled away, Bianca looked back from the doorway. She probably knew I was nearby, because when she touched the charm, she wore a deliberate little smile. For a second I wanted to get out of the car and ask what gave her the right to take what was mine.

Then the tightness across my belly reminded me of the doctor's warning: intense stress could trigger early labor. I told Luca to slow down so the guards would not spot us.

Backing off is not surrender. I said it to myself. I was not going through that door today so that one day I could walk out of every door that belonged to Matteo, in the open, with my daughter in my arms.