“I don’t know. I’m not sure he did either though I’m convinced he pulled the same stunt on other unsuspecting women.”
“How did he think Dom would permit this?” It’s one thing to pimp your wife out to clear your debts or for favors but letting another made man impregnate your wife is shameful. I don’t think Dominic would have approved or let it go.
“I think he was planning on killing Dom and taking me for himself, but that’s just a guess.”
“What happened to the baby?”
Tears fill her eyes again. “Dom was going to force me into an abortion, but I couldn’t let him do that. The baby was innocent.”
She hacks up a sob, and I pull her against my chest, dotting kisses into her hair. I don’t say anything because I have no words. This is worse than the worst thing I could have created in my mind, and I’m pretty creative.
“I went to Vitto. Told him it was Cruz’s baby and he had planned it. Told him I feared what Cruz would do to all of us if he discovered I was pregnant and we’d aborted his baby. Vitto intervened. Made Dom agree to send me to mynonnain Sicily to give birth in secret and then the baby would be adopted. I was overseas when news of Cruz’s death became common knowledge. I knew Dom would try and force me into an abortion then, so I called Vitto, and he made sure Dom stuck to the agreement.”
“Where’s your baby now, Valentina?”
Silent tears stream down her face. “I don’t know. They let me hold him for ten minutes, and then he was stolen from my arms. I screamed at them to bring him back. I had taken one look at him and fell instantly in love.”
She stares at me, looking utterly heartbroken. “He was beautiful even if he looked like his father. In that moment, I didn’t care how he was conceived or who he resembled. My heart was full of love for my child. He wasmine, and Cruz wasn’t around any longer to make a claim for him. I wanted to keep him, but they said it was too late. The paperwork was done.”
She breaks down again, sobbing into my shirt. “I’m so sorry, kitten. So, so sorry.”
When her tears dry, she sits more upright, swiping at her eyes and sniffling. “Nonnacollected me from the hospital, but I didn’t want to leave. I was convinced my son was still there somewhere, and I was racing around, searching wards and rooms. They had to sedate me to get me into the car. I was in agony, drowning in pain, screaming and crying for my baby. It felt like someone had reached a hand into my chest and ripped my heart from my body. The pain was unbearable.
“The grief didn’t go away in the following days. It only got worse. I made constant calls to Vitto, begging him to get my baby back. When my calls became crazier and more aggressive and it was clear I was losing my sanity, Vitto spoke to Dom, and after I swallowed a load of pills in an attempt to end it all, he sent me to a psychiatric hospital. I was there for a few months before they sent me back to Miami.
“Vitto told me then he’d tried to reverse the decision, but the baby was already in the system, and he had no contacts and no sway in Italy. His hands were tied. I appreciated that he tried. Especially knowing Dom would be furious if he knew.”
Sounds like Vitto’s guilty conscience forced him to try, but it doesn’t excuse him for tolerating the way his underboss treated his wife. It wouldn’t have taken much for Vitto to force Dominic to stop trading his wife to the highest bidder, but he chose to say nothing. I have lost all respect for the man and won’t lose any sleep knowing he’s about to be stripped of his title, power, and responsibility. He deserves it for being so fucking weak.
She slumps against me, her head on my shoulder. “Now you know. Do you hate me? Are you leaving me?”
How on Earth can she think that?It must be the trauma speaking. “Of course not, kitten.” I dust kisses all over her face, wanting to bundle her up and keep her away from a world that has hurt her over and over again. She’s barely clinging to me now, exhaustion seeping from every pore. It’s the middle of the night. She had a traumatic shock earlier, and now she’s just relived one of the most difficult periods of her life. It’s no surprise she’s drained physically and mentally. “What Cruz did to you, what they all did to you, is disgusting, Valentina, but how could you think I would hate you? It wasn’t your fault. You are not to blame.”
“But you hated him, and I had his baby.”
I hide my wince in time, but it grates inside me. “He forced himself on you repeatedly and manipulated your pregnancy. It’s not like you fell in love with him and willingly let him knock you up. All this does is make me hate him more and love you harder.”
“People will look at me differently when they know.”
“They won’t, and we don’t have to tell anyone if you want to keep it a secret.” We have to tell Cristian and Massimo, but I’ll broach that subject another time. “Can I ask you something?”
She nods, looking up at me, seeming so young in the face of all this trauma. “Does Elio look like your son? Is that what triggered you today, or was it because Cristian resembles Cruz?”
“It was Elio at first. I don’t know if my son would look like him now except they both have the same dark hair. My Leandro had blue eyes when he was born, but I suspect they’re green now. It was the stark resemblance to Cruz when Elio looked at me that triggered me. Then Cristian showed up, looking too much like his older brother, and when he clasped my hand and smiled, I got lost in my head, and it was as if Cruz had come back from the dead. I zoned out after that.”
“Cristian is nothing like Cruz, and he despised his brother.” This will devastate him all over again.
“I’m so tired,” she says, yawning. “But I need to tell you more.”
“It can wait, baby.” Her eyelids are drooping as I lift her up. “You can tell me the rest in the morning.”
Valentina passes out in my arms on the stairs, and she doesn’t budge as I strip her down to her underwear and slide her under the covers. Grabbing a bottle of bourbon from downstairs, I settle in a chair by the window in my bedroom, facing it toward the bed, as I work through everything my wife just told me.
My emotions are raw. My pain is visceral. But none of it is directed at the goddess sleeping in our bed. Valentina is so strong. Not yet twenty-five and she has already experienced far too much pain and grief and suffering. How she is even able to get up each day is impressive.
No more, I vow, as I climb into bed just as the sun is setting. She will know no more suffering or pain. I’ll do everything necessary to ensure she only knows happiness and peace from this point on.
I’m woken by my phone the next morning, and I quickly silence it, slowly removing my arms from around my wife. She’s still in a deep sleep, and I want it to stay that way. I slip into the closet, not overly surprised to see it’s after eleven, and accept the call from Dino. “What’s up?”
