Chapter 3

I'd meant to save the news of the pregnancy for our fifth wedding anniversary.

Seven years together. I'd imagined the moment more times than I could count—

Sliding the ultrasound across the table, watching him freeze, then break into a smile.

Now, in the wake of Dante's "something's come up at the club," and the framed sketch on Mia's wall, that "surprise" had turned into a punchline.

Dante looked at the report. He was pleased.

He helped me up from the bathroom floor and crouched, pressing his cheek against my stomach.

"I was too harsh at the meeting."

"It won't happen again. You just focus on the baby."

He also said he'd make it up to me publicly, in front of everyone.

On the night of our anniversary, I put on the cashmere coat I'd worn the first time I met Dante, clasped on the jewelry set he'd given me at our wedding, and arrived at the private ballroom.

Dante had spared no expense for our fifth anniversary dinner.

But my blood was turning colder by the second.

The entire room was drowning in white lilies—the long table, the fireplace, the flower wall behind the head seats—all white, the scent so thick I could barely breathe.

Beside my place setting sat a dark green velvet box.

The diamond necklace.

The very thing Mia hadn't dared accept had become Dante's anniversary gift to me.

A few of the wives were murmuring not far off.

"Donna Moretti has such unusual taste. For a second I thought I'd wandered into someone's wake."

"Mia's Blooms again. Every Moretti event lately. You don't suppose the owner is the Don's mistress, do you?"

"If I were her, I certainly wouldn't be smiling..."

But I did. I smiled.

I just kept smiling—until my eyes began to burn.

My fifth wedding anniversary with Dante—every flower, every gift—belonged to another woman.

I didn't wait for Dante to arrive. I stood up and walked out.

I went to Mia's Blooms.

Mia was behind the counter looking over some sketches. When she saw me, she set down her pen and hurried over.

"Ma'am, perfect timing! My husband said he's opening a second location for me. Soon all of Chicago will know Mia's Blooms!"

Her face was radiant with joy.

I said nothing. I walked to the wall and stared at the framed sketch.

"Are you planning to steal someone else's design for the second one too?"

Mia went still.

"What?"

"This drawing—I spent an entire afternoon on it, three winters ago." I turned to face her. "The cat in the bottom right corner? He was mine as a child. I lost him when I was eight. I put him in the sketch on purpose."

"You said roses were tacky. So why the rose window?"

Mia's face went white.

"You know I'm his wife."

My voice was calm.

"You know the money for this shop came from my husband. You know that's my drawing on your wall. You know this shop was my dream.

And still, you had the nerve to call my husband yours."

A woman in the shop hurled her bouquet to the floor.

"A shop opened by the mistress? That's disgusting."

Half a dozen phones went up at once.

Mia stumbled backward, knocking over a flower stand. Glass shattered across the floor.

"Please, stop filming, please..."

She crouched down amid the broken flowers and shards of glass, her voice shaking.

Suddenly, I found the whole thing unbearably pointless.

I was turning to leave when Dante burst in.

Smack.

The hand with the wedding ring struck me hard across the face.

I staggered back, crashing into a flower stand behind me. Broken glass drove into my palm. Blood welled up fast.

A sharp pain shot through my lower abdomen. The color drained from my face.

Dante didn't look at me.

He shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around Mia, pulling her against his chest, murmuring gently.

"It's all right. I'm here. No one's going to touch you."

Once Mia was calm, Dante came over and crouched down in front of me.

On the surface, it looked like he was inspecting the wound.

What he said was:

"Apologize to Mia. Then we can put this behind us."

I clutched my bleeding hand, staring at him in disbelief.

"Dante—have you lost your mind?"

"You're carrying a child." His voice was low, meant only for my ears. "Don't blow this up."

Cold flooded through me.

"And if I don't apologize?"

Dante looked at me. His tone was terrifyingly even.

"Suit yourself. But tonight, Grace disappears from the estate. Her life is over."

"Elena. You know I can do it."