The Don Prayed for Me but Slept with My Best Friend

"Donna, you're having Emma reburied? Does the Don know?"

Rosa draped a blanket over my shoulders.

I managed a thin smile. "He doesn't need to know."

Six years ago, a rival family ambushed Daniel. I was eight months pregnant, and I took the bullet meant for him.

My daughter didn't survive. My uterus was so badly damaged that the doctors said I might never get pregnant again.

In the days that followed, I nearly died.

For my sake, Daniel gave up every comfort money could buy and went alone to the monastery of San Colombano to pray day and night.

Eventually, I started to recover.

Everyone said heaven had been moved by Daniel's devotion.

From then on, he lived on plain food and put himself through hard physical labor every day. Every year, he also spent a month alone at the monastery, praying for me and our daughter.

For six years, he kept it up without fail.

They all said I was Daniel's whole life.

But right now, I felt like a joke.

I checked my phone again. Beneath the video, Talia had posted a photo of the three of them watching fireworks, their backs to the camera. A little family.

The caption read, "Today isn't just my son's birthday. It's also the sixth anniversary of the day I met my husband. When we met, he said that every year on this day, he'd love me a little more."

I read every word on the screen, my nails digging deep into my palms.

So all those times he was supposedly praying for me, he'd been sleeping with my best friend.

They even had a child...

And that child's birthday fell on the anniversary of my daughter's death...

The pain in my chest nearly swallowed me whole.

The next moment, I coughed up a mouthful of blood.

...

When I woke up, I was staring straight into a pair of bloodshot eyes.

Daniel knelt on one knee beside the bed, cradling my hand in both of his as though it were fragile and irreplaceable. His lips were hot against the back of my hand as he kissed it over and over. "They told me about the blood... You scared me half to death. Are you still feeling sick?"

Looking at the four-leaf clover on his wrist, I felt sick to my stomach.

I pulled my hand away and kept wiping it on the sheets.

Daniel froze for a second, but he didn't think much of it. He assumed I was just overwhelmed with grief over our daughter.

He pulled me into his arms and kept kissing my hair. "I'm sorry, Lucia. If you hadn't saved me back then, nothing would have happened to you or our daughter. I deserve to die."

"You do deserve to die."

At my words, Daniel went rigid again.

I softened my expression and turned to hug him. "Sorry, Daniel. I think the grief is really getting to me."

I couldn't let him get suspicious before I left.

Otherwise, my daughter and I would never get away.

Daniel still didn't read anything into it. He just sighed and held me tighter.

His lips moved as if he wanted to say something.

But before he could speak, his phone rang.

He glanced at the caller ID, frowned, and declined the call.

A moment later, it rang again.

Daniel bent down and kissed the corner of my eye. "Baby, I need to take this."

"Okay," I murmured, and Daniel got up and left the room.

When he came back, he looked guilty. "Honey, something came up at the docks. I have to go take care of it."

"Okay," I murmured again.

Daniel took my face in his hands and kissed me on the lips. "I'm sorry, honey. Once things calm down, I'll take you to see the northern lights like you've always wanted. Okay?"

I looked at him and said nothing.

For six years, he'd promised to take me to see the northern lights.

And every year, he'd broken that promise.

I used to think he was just busy. Now I suspected he'd been with Talia the whole time.

After Daniel left, I called my lawyer, Paolo Ricci. "Draw up divorce papers. I'll come by tomorrow to sign them."