The Child She Lost,The Crown She Won

ritance and let my father e

he rain, claiming he gave up his terri

nancy ultrasound, I overheard him laughing w

ploy so his mistress coul

his mistress pushed me

linic, agonizing in pain, as S

ng and the baby wouldn't survive, weeping as

stress walked into my

y sacrificed our child to keep my blood

to ensure his mistress had

playing the devoted, grieving husban

tears, but a ringing in my ears that awake

phone to call my

ou absolute su

their territories whole a

pte

nna

t, a foolish curve to my lips. I had come to surprise my husband, to offer him this small, pure thing against the backdrop of his supposed ruin. Bu

he words that filtered through were muffled, but their meaning was a blade

e heavy d

s gutting floor. I moved into the shadows that clung to the walls like damp cloth. Ahead,

laiming he had surrendered all his mafia territories to my father just to save me from a forced marriage. I believed him. I had let my father, Salvatore-the iron-fisted Underboss

flow of contraband through the city's docks and the fealty of every man who carried a blade in its twelve districts. There was an air of stillnes

low rumble that seemed to vibrate not through t

is holding up p

n an arrogance I had never heard tha

ave up the Romano territory so Lucia could take your name-a

ts between his blood. I'll control half

e clean life for the two of us. Sh

fingertips, a slow retreat of sensation that worked its way up my arms.

he wet concrete was a sharp, clean sound in the cave

their attent

es found mine. A cruel, kno

soldier over a rei

is shadow fell further across my body, ec

, and you are stuck in a

of a revulsion so deep it felt physical. I remember the s

ring a crown of thorns

h a tremor I could not co

rked in Hunter's ey

the fluid, practiced motion of a protector-a role he had ju

tory. You are a piec

an insect. He glances at me one last, lingering time before walking out into

is face softening into a mask of devotion so pe

ere? You shouldn't be around

iding his touch. "I was

picks up a filet knife and resumes gutting a la

orld circles. We had competed side-by-side in syndicate training. I remember him skipping a crucial Famiglia meeting just to bring me roasted chestnuts

r creaks open again

is wearing a skin-tight red dress that leaves nothing to

s doing the dir

o Silas, completely

e of the filet knife, slick with the fish's slime, skidded against the sweat of his palm and fell. The blade, turning in the

bleeding hand. Her eyes held his as

tightening around the ultrasoun

onfessed to theft. And the woman sucking his blood in

haps s