Leave Me and Raise Her Baby

My husband, Cesare Ferrante, the most feared Don of the Ferrante family, had always hated children. Yet everything changed the moment my stepsister, Bianca Moretti, moved in next door with her six-month-old baby.

Suddenly, my husband became obsessed with that child. He personally fed the baby formula, sang lullabies, and carried the baby everywhere he went. Every day, he came home exhausted at dawn, yet his face glowed with joy, as if that baby occupied his entire soul.

I became invisible to him.

Three days ago, someone forced my car off the road, and I crashed into the median. Blood streamed down my forehead, and my vision swam. I called Cesare 55 times.

He did not answer a single call. Instead, he posted a photo of the baby on his social media.

[My little angel smiled today!]

I had had enough. Tonight at the family banquet, every member of the famiglia was seated around the table. I raised my final toast, then set down my glass.

"I want a divorce."

They all froze.

"Are you insane?" My parents' voices rose in unison.

Cesare grabbed my wrist, disbelief written across his face. "Giulia, you want to divorce me just because I was busy taking care of the baby and didn't answer your calls? You're actually jealous of a six-month-old child?"

I did not meet his eyes. Instead, I stared at the glaring kiss mark behind his ear. "Since you love that child so much," I said calmly, "I'll make it easy for you. Go be that child's father."

...

"Giulia, what the hell are you talking about?"

Cesare Ferrante's eyes turned red as he shouted at me, like he was the one who had been wronged.

"Bianca is your sister! She's raising a child alone and is overwhelmed. Is it wrong for me to help her? I personally feed the baby and sing lullabies. I'm learning how to be a good father, preparing for our future children. You can question anything else, but you cannot question my love for you!"

I did not respond. Instead, I pulled the divorce papers from my bag and placed them in front of him. "Here are the divorce papers. Sign them."

The room fell silent. Every family member stared at me in shock.

In their eyes, Cesare and I were the last couple in the world who would ever split up.

When we were 18, a boy followed me home from school one day. The next morning, that boy's father showed up at my door with broken fingers, begging for forgiveness. It had been Cesare's doing.

When we got married, Cesare shut down half the city to hold our wedding. In front of all the guests, he kissed the ring on my finger and declared, "Giulia is mine. Anyone who touches her is a dead man."

For ten years, no matter how dangerous the negotiations he sat through during the day and no matter how bloody the deals he made, he always came home at night. He would loosen his tie and pull me into his arms as if I were the only soft thing left in his life.

People said I was his only weakness. No one believed I would be the first to leave.

Cesare's expression went blank. He clearly had not expected me to have the divorce papers ready.

Mamma snatched the papers away and scanned them, her face turning pale. "Giulia, what are you trying to do? Ten years of marriage, and you want to throw it away just like that? Bianca's life is hard enough. She's a single mother raising a child alone. It's basic decency for Cesare to help her!"

Other family members chimed in one after another.

"Madre, we understand you were scared when those bastards from the rival family ran you off the road, but you're fine, aren't you? The Don has already apologized for missing your calls. Isn't divorce a bit extreme?"

"Children are the future of our famiglia. It's right to value them. Don't be petty."

"Besides, Don Ferrante risks his life every day for the family business. You live safely under his protection. Even if he neglects you sometimes, can't you be more understanding?"

The people around me piled on, accusing me of being unreasonable. I pulled my lips into a thin smile. I pushed the divorce papers forward again. "We're getting divorced tonight. This isn't up for discussion."

Papa stormed over, fury on his face, and slapped me hard across the cheek.

My ears rang. He pointed at my nose and shouted, "Giulia, you think you're too good for this now? Cesare Ferrante is the most powerful Don in Secily. You want to throw away a man like him? Who the hell do you think you are?

"If he hadn't been protecting you all these years, you would've died a hundred times over! You can't be so ungrateful!"

Mamma quickly pulled Papa back and grabbed my hand, tears welling in her eyes. "Sweetheart, what's wrong? Why can't we talk this through? Why does it have to be a divorce? We've all seen how Cesare treats you. If you've got someone else on the side... I'll be the first to say no."

I slowly lifted my head. I tasted blood in my mouth.

Cesare walked over right at that moment. He wiped my face while positioning himself between me and Papa's glare. In everyone else's eyes, he was the flawless husband. Only I knew better.

"Giulia, are you... actually cheating on me?" His voice dropped low, filled with suppressed pain and sorrow. "We grew up together. I know you might feel bored. Maybe you want some excitement. But I don't care. As long as you come back to me, I'll pretend nothing happened."

In just a few sentences, he had turned me into the unfaithful one. Every pair of eyes in the room bore into me.

Papa was so furious that he nearly drew his gun.

"So that's it! You want a divorce because you've got someone else! You shameful disgrace! Apologize to Cesare right now, and if you mention divorce again, you're no daughter of mine!"

Everyone around me urged me to reconsider. Even Cesare begged me desperately. I looked down at his hand gripping my wrist. He was not wearing our wedding ring.

I pushed him away. My voice came out soft. "I want a divorce. I don't love you anymore."

When he left me alone every night, when 55 of my calls went unanswered, when he was busy taking photos of Bianca Moretti's baby… my heart had already died.

Cesare froze, his face drained of color. It was as if he had not heard me correctly.

"You... What did you just say?"