Chapter 3.

Adriana’s POV.

The sterile scent of the hospital still clung to me as I stepped out of the car. The doctor’s words echoed in my head “You’re fine. It’s stress. You need rest.” If only rest could fix everything else.

I clutched my bag tighter as I stood in front of the mansion, his mansion. Our home, though it didn’t feel like one anymore.

The house was as cold as I remembered it. Polished marble floors. Dim chandeliers. Silence that screamed louder than any gunfire I’d ever heard growing up in a mafia household.

Vincent sat on the leather couch, a glass of whiskey in his hand. His eyes met mine hard, unreadable, like the calculating boss he was becoming. Gone was the warmth. Gone was the man who once traced kisses along my collarbone and whispered about forever.

“I thought you wouldn’t come back” His voice was low, distant, dangerous.

"I had to, this is our home," I said but the words didn’t feel right, being here didn’t feel right.

"Why did you come back, Adriana?"

I forced a breath through my lungs. “Because of our baby,” I said, praying the words would pierce through whatever armor he’d put up.

His jaw tensed. A slow blink. Then: “What baby?”

I flinched. “Vincent, please don’t do this. You called my father for a reason, I thought you..”

“You thought what, Adriana?” His tone cracked like a whip. “That carrying a maybe-mine child would erase what you did? That you could lie in my bed and lie to my face?”

“No,” I said quickly, “It’s not like that. I...I never meant...”

“Save it.” He stood up slowly, towering over me.

“This isn’t fair, you don’t get to walk away, I’m trying to make things right, you know you hurt me too,” I said my anger consuming me.

“Don’t blame Stella. Don’t deflect. You betrayed me first, you made your choice the second you let him touch you.”

Each word landed like a bullet. My throat tightened, but I didn’t beg. I couldn’t. Not anymore.

“I’m done with this conversation,” he said, then walked away without looking back.

***

The days that followed went by in a blur.

Vincent came home late. Smelled like cigars and meetings. Always dressed sharp, but colder than steel. I’d hear his footsteps down the hall and hope, just hope that he’d knock on my door. He never did.

At night, I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, one hand resting over the child growing inside me. A child who already lived in a war zone of silence, resentment, and broken vows.

And then there was Luca.

He returned without warning, slipping back into the Moretti estate like a shadow. No greetings. No explanations. He stayed in the east wing, far, yet far too close.

I hadn’t seen him since that night. I avoided the corridors he walked. Lowered my gaze when I heard his voice. Pretended my heart didn’t stutter when his name came up.

He didn’t acknowledge me either. No nod. No glance. Nothing.

But there was a shift.

Luca had been appointed acting head of the Moretti crime family. Don Raffaele had made it official during one of their meetings.

Vincent never said it, but I saw it in his eyes. The anger. The humiliation. The betrayal. He was no longer just hurt by me, he was being replaced by his brother, in love and in legacy.

Vincent and Luca’s feuding relationship has always been a ticking time bomb it’s only a matter of time before it explodes but with everything happening right now it was bound to happen soon.

****

I was finally able to get myself to sleep but the loud noises coming from downstairs jolted me awake. I immediately got up and rushed downstairs to find out what was going on.

From where I stood, hidden behind the archway of the east corridor, I saw it unravel in seconds.

Vincent lunged across the room like a man possessed, fists clenched, rage thick in his voice. “How dare you touch my wife!”

Luca didn’t flinch. His eyes flicked briefly to me, calm and unreadable, then back to Vincent. He didn’t need to speak, his silence was more provoking than any insult.

“Answer me!” Vincent roared, his voice echoing off the marble. “First our father’s favor, then my place in the family, now her?” His fists trembled at his sides. “Is there anything left you want to take from me?”

I stepped forward before things spiraled. The room was filled with tense eyes, the guards, servants, men who had sworn loyalty to both brothers. A brawl here would stain more than pride. It would split the family.

“Please, Vincent...Luca,” I said, stepping between them, heart pounding in my chest. “Don’t do this. Not here. Not like this.”

Vincent’s eyes snapped to mine, wild and unforgiving. “Move, you slut.”

His words tore through me like glass. I froze, breath catching. I’d grown up around cruel men, heard harsh words but coming from him, it cut deeper.

“Don’t call her that,” Luca said, his voice low, warning.

In a blink, Vincent shoved me aside. I hit the floor hard, the marble cold against my skin, pain flaring through my shoulder.

The room fell still.

Vincent’s face paled. He moved toward me, guilt flashing in his eyes, hand extended.

But Luca got there first.

He knelt beside me and offered his hand, silent and steady. And I took it. Not out of spite, but instinct. Safety. Warmth.

He pulled me up gently, his touch firm but careful.

Vincent’s expression darkened like a storm. “Don’t touch my wife,” he snarled.

I turned to face him, fury burning in my chest. “Stay away from me.”

I dropped Luca’s hand and walked away without looking back and I didn’t stop until I reached my room and slammed the door behind me, my chest heaving.

Inside, the silence swallowed me. I leaned against the door, eyes squeezed shut, trying to hold back the sob rising in my throat.

This was my life now, caught between two brothers, both shaped by violence, legacy, and everything I didn’t ask for. I was stupid to think this marriage would be an escape.

I had barely made it to the bed when I heard it.

A knock.

“Adriana?” Luca’s voice. Low. Cautious. “Are you okay?”

I didn’t answer right away. Because I didn’t know the answer to that question, was I okay?