Chapter 2

The family dinner wasn't a suggestion.

"People are already talking behind your back," Nico said while adjusting his cufflinks. "If you don't show up, it only gets worse. You're still the lady of this family. Act like it."

Sofia Marchetti was already seated when I walked in. Dark dress, modest cut, her belly just beginning to show. Camilla Valenti — Nico's stepmother, the old family matriarch who'd never once let me forget I married above my station — was personally spooning soup into Sofia's bowl, fussing over her like a daughter she'd always wanted.

The second I stepped through the door, Camilla's smile vanished.

Sofia stood up immediately, eyes down, voice barely above a whisper. "Mara, I didn't know you were coming… I can eat somewhere else. I don't want to make things uncomfortable for you."

She hadn't said anything wrong. Every word was perfectly humble. And every person at that table was now looking at her with sympathy — and at me like I was the problem.

Nico frowned. "Sit down and eat, Sofia." His voice was impatient, but his eyes were soft. Then he turned to me, flat: "You too."

Camilla didn't waste time. She stroked Sofia's arm and said, loud enough for the whole table, "This girl's appetite has been terrible lately. I had the kitchen make bone broth — drink more, sweetheart. My grandson needs the nutrition."

Then she turned to me. Looked me up and down.

"You're pretty far along too, aren't you? Holding up okay?"

I kept my voice steady. "About the same as Sofia. Has the father of her baby come to check on her?"

Camilla's face went cold.

"You have the nerve to bring up fathers? You don't even know which Moretti your baby belongs to." She set down her chopsticks. "A Valenti woman gets taken by the enemy, and instead of doing the honorable thing, she comes back with her belly full. In any other family, they'd have drowned you."

Nico said, "Mom." He put his hand on my shoulder — a gesture, nothing more.

"She's been through enough. Let's keep tonight civil."

Then he leaned toward me and lowered his voice. "And don't push Sofia about her situation. She's going through this pregnancy alone. It's hard enough."

After dinner, I stood up to leave. Camilla's voice cut across the room before I could take a step.

"Clear everything she touched. Glasses, plates, silverware — all of it. I don't want anyone in this family eating off something that woman's had her hands on."

The housekeeper collected my place setting in front of everyone. Carried it to the trash bin. Dropped it in.

I looked at Nico.

He squeezed my hand. "She's just being difficult. Bear with it. I'll talk to her later."

Then Sofia coughed. Just once — light, delicate — and pressed her hand to her stomach.

Nico let go of me.

It wasn't a decision. It was reflex. He turned, put his arm around Sofia's shoulders, his voice dropping into something I hadn't heard directed at me in months.

"What's wrong? Are you okay? Did something scare you?"

He snapped at the housekeeper. "Next time you throw things, do it somewhere else. If you upset her, it's on you."

I was still standing where he'd left me. Three seconds ago, he'd been holding my hand. Now that hand was on another woman's waist, and he didn't even notice the difference.

I walked out.

In the hallway, I leaned against the wall. The dining room door hadn't fully closed, and their voices drifted through.

Camilla: "Look at that belly — pointed and high. Definitely a boy. Now that's a real Valenti heir."

Sofia, soft as always: "Whatever you say, Mom."

Camilla laughed. "That's my girl."

Nico: "Mom, enough about the baby. We'll deal with it later."

Camilla: "Later when? How long are you going to keep that woman around? Get rid of her before people start thinking the Valentis can't tell their own blood from the enemy's."

A long pause.

Nico: "I know what I'm doing."

I stood in that hallway and let it sink in.

The vasectomy was theater. The promise to raise my baby was a script.

I took out my phone and dialed.