The Night I Heard Him Call Her Mine

“Our daughter is beautiful.”

I heard my husband’s voice through the glass, and something inside me shattered on the spot.

Rosa smiled weakly from the hospital bed. “Best third anniversary gift you ever gave me.”

Third anniversary.

That was the moment the rest of the lies fell into place.

Every late night at the office. Every dinner he canceled. Every time he came home after midnight and told me family business had run long.

Cold marble pressed into my knees outside Rosa’s room, but it was the ache in my chest that nearly broke me. I stared through the glass and forgot how to breathe.

Enzo sat at Rosa’s bedside, one hand on the baby, the other brushing her hair back from her face.

By the time the surgery ended, I was running on nothing.

I had been on my feet for hours when the emergency C-section call came in. Before I could scrub in, my director caught my arm.

“Gianna, the woman on that table is under the protection of a man powerful enough to ruin this hospital by morning. Do not make a mistake.”

I glanced at the patient chart and frowned.

Men in our world, especially men like Enzo, were obsessed with their wives. How could a man like that possibly have another woman he cherished?

The surgery went well.

I had barely exhaled in relief when a swarm of men in black dragged me to my knees outside the recovery suite.

Then Enzo’s voice came from inside, and the blood in my body turned cold.

“My wife says you hurt her on purpose during surgery. Kneel there all night and apologize.”

His wife？He said it so easily.

Not me. Rosa.

I stared through the glass at the man I had been married to for seven years, the man who had sworn there had never been anyone but me.

Then Rosa’s voice pulled me straight into another memory.

It was Enzo’s birthday. I had traded shifts so I could surprise him with a cake. I opened the bedroom door and found him naked in our bed with a woman I had never seen before.

I threw the cake at them before either of them could speak.

Enzo dropped to his knees so fast the sound cracked through the room. The girl followed right after him. He looked up at me with bloodshot eyes and grabbed my wrist with both hands.

“Gianna, listen to me. I was set up. One of the guys drugged my drink. She was sent to my room. I thought it was you.”

The girl was shaking so hard she could barely speak. She swore she had needed money and had put something in his drink herself.

Before dawn, Enzo had her sent away.

Then he tore through his own men, smashed half his study.

His mother came to see me and cried at my kitchen table.

“Gianna, please. He loves you. If you leave him, he will lose his mind.”

I locked myself in my room for three days.

Then I opened the door and gave him one last chance.

I told him if there was ever a next time, I would leave so completely he would never find me again.

At dawn, the guards finally let me stand.

My director did not even look me in the eye when she told me to clear out my office. No one in this city crossed a Moretti and kept their job.

I drove home in silence.

Over the fireplace hung our wedding portrait. In it, Enzo looked at me with the devotion I had believed in for seven years.

I sat on the floor beneath that portrait until my throat burned raw.

When the sun came up, I looked at his face one last time and said, “I’m done.”