Chapter 1 - The Truth Behind Sicily
Lucian did not leave immediately.
He stood by the window for several minutes, staring out at the rain drowning Manhattan.
For years, people had feared that silence.
His silence meant someone had made a mistake.
It meant contracts would disappear, enemies would vanish, and men who thought they were powerful would suddenly remember they were not.
But that morning, his silence meant nothing.
Not to me.
Not to Nico.
Finally, he turned.
“Bianca’s father is dying,” he said.
I said nothing.
“Romano has cancer. He demanded that Bianca meet with me.”
“And you flew to Sicily.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Lucian’s face hardened.
“Because he had information about a threat against us.”
“Us?”
“Against you. Against the baby.”
Elena crossed her arms.
“And you decided the safest thing was to leave Serena eight months pregnant while you had dinner with another woman?”
Lucian looked at her.
“It was not dinner.”
“The photograph looked intimate.”
“It was staged.”
“By who?” I asked.
Lucian did not answer quickly enough.
My stomach tightened.
“By Bianca?”
“No.”
“Then by her father?”
“Yes.”
The room went still.
Lucian walked closer but stopped several feet from my bed.
“Romano wanted you to see the photograph,” he said. “He wanted you to believe I had chosen Bianca. He knew you were vulnerable. He knew you were close to giving birth.”
“And you still went.”
“Yes.”
“You did not call.”
“No.”
“You ignored me.”
Lucian’s eyes lowered.
“Yes.”
The admissions came too late.
They were honest, perhaps.
But honesty after betrayal was not the same thing as trust.
“I was trying to stop a war,” he said.
“You were trying to control a situation alone,” I replied. “Like you always do.”
His face tightened.
“And while you were doing that,” I continued, “I sat in this room thinking my husband had decided another woman was more important than the birth of his son.”
Lucian looked at Nico.
“I did not choose her.”
“You chose everything except us.”
That was the truth.
He had not needed to sleep with Bianca to abandon me.
He only needed to decide that I could wait.
That I would forgive.
That I would remain.
May you like
For seven years, I had proven him right.
Not anymore.
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