My husband put another woman's son on his shoulders at our family's most sacred event, a place reserved for the heir, a place my own daughter had only dreamed of, and as the world around me went silent, my phone buzzed with a text from him: "I see you. Remember your place. Don't embarrass me."
The nausea that rolled through my stomach had nothing to do with pregnancy and everything to do with the five years of my life I'd spent playing a role I was never meant for.
"Mommy, when is Daddy coming to play with me?"
I looked down at Liliana, my five-year-old daughter, whose bright blue eyes were a perfect copy of her father's. A painful echo, because Aidan used to look at me with that same innocent adoration.
"He's talking to a very important business partner, sweetie," I lied, forcing a smile that felt like cracking porcelain.
An hour ago, his text had been much clearer. *"Keep the kid busy. Don't let her bother me."*
I smoothed down the front of my simple sundress, a plain, off-the-rack thing I'd chosen specifically to not outshine him. For five years, I had been Sarah Miller, the quiet, unassuming wife of Aidan Gallagher, a rising soldier in the Vitali family. I had sanded down my own edges, dulled my own shine, all to protect his pathetic, fragile pride.
My gaze drifted across the sprawling lawn of the Vitali estate, past the laughing faces of soldiers and capos, to the champagne tower where he stood. Aidan. My husband. He was laughing, his head thrown back, one hand resting possessively on the lower back of Cassandra Thorne.
And on his shoulders, perched like a king, was her son, Leo. He was squealing with delight, reaching for the highest glass of champagne, a privilege, an honor, reserved only for the children of the family's inner circle.
My breath caught in my throat. The cheerful music of the string quartet, the clinking glasses, the summer breeze-it all faded into a dull, distant roar. There was only that image, burned into my mind: my husband, his mistress, and her son, forming the perfect family portrait where my daughter and I should have been.
Then came the buzz of his text. "I see you. Remember your place. Don't embarrass me."
My hands began to shake, a tremor starting in my fingertips and radiating up my arms. My place. For five years, my place had been in the shadows, propping him up, making him look good, ensuring no one ever suspected that the indebted, street-level enforcer had married the Don's only daughter.
"Mommy, let's go play croquet!" Liliana tugged at my hand, her small voice pulling me from the icy void.
I swallowed the lump of acid in my throat and let her lead me toward the game set up on the lower lawn. We fell in line behind other families. And, of course, there they were, just ahead of us. Aidan and Cassandra, laughing as Leo tried to swing a mallet that was too big for him.
It was my turn. I took a steadying breath, trying to focus on the simple geometry of the game, on the red ball at my feet. But my eyes kept straying to them, to the way his fingers brushed her arm, the way she leaned into him.
Then it was Cassandra's turn. She swung her mallet with a theatrical flourish, sending her blue ball flying. It rolled directly into the path of my feet. I didn't have time to react. My ankle twisted, and I went down, hard, on the manicured grass. A sharp pain shot up my leg.
Liliana screamed, a terrified, piercing sound.
For a split second, I thought he would turn to me. I thought I saw a flicker of concern in his eyes.
I was wrong.
He bypassed me completely, rushing to Cassandra's side. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice thick with worry. "Did that clumsy woman startle you?"
He didn't even look at me. He was checking Cassandra for injuries she couldn't possibly have sustained.
Then, his gaze finally fell on me, lying on the ground, my daughter sobbing beside me. His face was a mask of cold fury.
"For Christ's sake, Sarah," he snapped, his voice loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. "Can't you even walk in a straight line? You're making a scene."
He offered a hand not to me, but to Cassandra, helping her stand straighter. Low murmurs rippled through the onlookers, the lower-ranking soldiers and their wives. "What a gentleman," one of them whispered.
Aidan's voice boomed across the lawn, full of false cheer. "Don't you worry, Cassandra. Leo, my boy. I'm going to win this game for you two. We'll get you that prize."
He never looked at me again.
He just turned his back, picked up his mallet, and left me on the ground as my daughter's heartbroken sobs filled the air.