LOGINI was eight months pregnant, at a charity gala with my husband, Don Massimo, when a rival family hit us. The crowd panicked. I was shoved to the floor, hard. Blood everywhere. Massimo lost his mind, screaming for medics, desperate to save my baby. But when I woke up, they were gone. Both of them. No baby, no Massimo. I remembered the gunfire, Massimo shielding me with his body. A cold dread washed over me. I hauled myself into a wheelchair and raced down the hall. That’s when I heard them—Massimo and the doctor. "Boss, I'm sorry. We did everything we could. The baby… he didn't make it." Tears streamed down my face. They killed my baby. The rival family killed my baby. But his next words shattered my world. "There was only one medical team. I had to make a choice. Bianca… she was carrying my child, too." Massimo sighed, then gave the order. "No one tells Arabella. She'll raise Bianca's son as her own. He will be my only heir." I slapped a hand over my mouth, my vision blurred by tears as I turned away. The man I loved was a lie. Fine. If he wants a war, he'll get one.
View MoreThe sun in Florence was just as warm.I stood outside the private art restoration studio, looking through the glass.There she was.Arabella.She sat quietly at an easel, restoring a damaged portrait of the Madonna and Child.Golden sunlight fell on her, just like the day we first met.She looked focused, serene, as if the bloody chaos of our world couldn't touch her here.I was afraid to go in.Afraid to shatter this peace.My hand was shaking.Finally, I pushed the door open.A small bell chimed. She didn't turn around."Arabella..." My voice was a raw whisper.Her hand paused for a second, then went back to dabbing paint on the canvas."I know that sound," she said, her voice calm as a still lake. "The footsteps of Massimo Falcone. I'd know that walk anywhere."I took a few steps closer. I saw the painting she was working on.The Virgin Mary held the infant Jesus, her eyes full of love.But a corner of the painting was torn, right across the child’s face."Arabella, I came to...""A
Screams from the basement cut through the night.I walked down the stone steps, each one heavy as a tombstone.Bianca was chained in the center of the interrogation room. Her dress was torn, her face a mask of terror."Massimo!" she cried, her voice trembling. "Please, let me go! I didn't do anything!"I stopped in front of her, my eyes as cold as the grave."Didn't do anything?" I said slowly. "Bianca, I just heard a very interesting recording."Her face went white."That... that's a fake! Arabella faked it!"I pulled a knife from my jacket. A Falcone family heirloom."Bianca, I'm giving you one more chance." The tip of the blade pressed against her chin. "Tell me how my son died.""I don't know!" she shook her head wildly. "The baby was a stillborn! The doctor can prove it!""The doctor?" I gave a cold little smile. " Dr. Valenti? Funny thing. He had a little... accident last night. Brake failure. Tragic."A flash of pure fear crossed Bianca's eyes."So now," I said softly, "there's
The manor was silent. Deathly silent.I pushed open the main doors. Only empty hallways greeted me.Arabella’s paintings, gone. Her favorite piano, gone. Even the dancing shoes she left by the door... gone.It was like she was never here.I ran upstairs and threw open our bedroom door. Her side of the closet was empty.On her vanity, her perfume, her jewelry box, her makeup—all of it, gone.Only my things were left, lonely in this massive room.I tore through the drawers like a madman, hoping for a sign, any trace she’d left behind.Nothing.Downstairs, I smelled something burning. The fireplace. Embers still glowed in the hearth.I got closer. My heart stopped.In the black ashes, I recognized a few letters.Our marriage certificate. She’d burned the only proof of our life together. Three years, turned to ash.A sharp pain twisted in my gut."Massimo!"The door flew open. Bianca rushed in, my mother Maria right behind her."Why aren't you answering your phone?" Bianca demanded. "It’s
The screen lit up. The church fell dead silent.The first image was from a hospital security camera.Massimo’s voice echoed through the chapel, cold and clear."No one tells Arabella the truth. I want her to raise my son with Bianca as her own.""And that new drug from the hospital… the one that ensures a woman can never conceive again. Make sure Arabella gets it."The blood drained from Bianca’s face.Massimo’s hands began to shake. The baby in his arms sensed his fear and began to cry."This can't be..." he muttered.But the screen kept playing.Next came photos and videos from Massimo’s phone.Him, teaching Bianca to shoot, their bodies close.Him, painting her portrait, a tender moment.A deep kiss in the glass studio on Lake Michigan.Every frame was proof of his betrayal."My God, is this real?" someone whispered from the pews. "What about Mrs. Falcone? Does she know?"Then came the kill shot: A voice memo.It was Massimo in Miami, making a promise to Bianca."Baby, don't you wor






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