Chapter 1

Mirella's POV:

"Va bene, Mirella. Seven days from now, I'll set up a shooting for you on a yacht."

Before Mama died, she had asked her only brother to look after me. My uncle, Salvatore Greco, was a renowned Don of the Garrow City mafia. On the day I married Ettore Morandi, he had not tried to stop me. He had only sent me a message.

[If the Morandi family ever betrays you, call me.]

Ettore was the most powerful Don in Saverra, and slipping out from under his watch would be nearly impossible unless I faked my death. Ettore could never find out that I was pregnant.

That was why I had asked my uncle to stage my death, and it was the very first thing I had done after getting home.

I set down my phone and picked up the paper calendar beside me. I circled the day I would leave in a red pen, and the bright red seemed to mock my foolishness.

Just then, a text from an unknown number came through with a photo of Ettore and Viola Bellini exchanging rings at their wedding.

[Mirella, I heard you never even got a proper wedding back then. What a shame you didn't get to see everything Ettore prepared for me.]

It was obviously Viola trying to provoke me, yet I felt nothing at all.

Suddenly, I heard the door open behind me. Ettore walked in with Viola, who was carrying a delicate cake box.

Ettore came up to me and said gently, "Viola spent the whole afternoon making you a chocolate nut torta. Come have a taste, darling."

He had forgotten that I was allergic to nuts.

I frowned and was about to speak when his gaze landed on the date circled in red on the calendar. "Darling, is something special happening in seven days?"

He searched my face for the slightest hint of the truth. I knew a Don would never tolerate being deceived.

"Did you forget? Seven days from now is our wedding anniversary. I've got a surprise for you, so look forward to it."

Ettore gave me the doting smile I knew so well. The old me would have rewarded that smile with a sweet kiss right away. Now, however, I knew every one of those smiles was fake.

"My queen, forget about seven days from now. Come try the torta Viola made. I think you'll love it."

"I'm allergic to nuts."

One bite was all it would take for me to go into shock and pass out.

Ettore's expression went blank for a moment, as if he had only just remembered. Before he could say anything, Viola started to sob.

"Mirella, I'm so sorry. It's all my fault. I didn't know—"

She turned to Ettore with a helpless look and went on, "I don't have much time left. Mirella wouldn't hold this against a dying woman, would she?"

Before I could reply, Ettore comforted her gently. "Of course not, Viola. Mirella is the most understanding person I know."

Then he turned to me. "Darling, don't blame Viola."

Watching the frail Viola nestle intimately against Ettore's chest, I found the whole scene absurd.

I rested a hand on my stomach, where a tiny life was growing. From that moment on, this child had nothing to do with Ettore.

Ettore noticed something was off and assumed I was unwell. "Mirella, what's wrong? Are you not feeling well?"

I answered calmly, "I haven't been eating right these past few days, so my stomach's a little upset."

Ettore frowned. "I'll have a nutritionist come to the house right now and put together a meal plan for you."

In the past, I would have been deeply touched. Now, it did not move me in the slightest.

I turned him down flat. "There's no need. I'll be fine after resting in my room for a bit."

With that, I got up to leave.

Ettore suddenly called after me, sounding a little hesitant. "Oh, and darling, the medical care here is the best, so Viola will be moving into the estate to live with us. Our bedroom gets the most sunlight, which will help her recover. Let's give it to her. You can rest in one of the other rooms."

I froze where I stood and fought down a flash of irritation before answering coldly. "Suit yourselves."

In seven days, I would be gone. Whatever they did no longer mattered to me.