I Switched Our Sons First

in the city-lay dying, I stood by his

ifying secret: twenty-six years ago, he secret

s so her child could inherit the empire safely, whil

trayal, his mistress and her thug

suits," the street rat spat, kicking the bedframe. "I w

oom, gloating about how her blood

Underboss-the son he believed was hers-leaving

s just a discarded, empty shell, completely

dry on the will, I buried

know one cru

e swap. And in the dead of night, I had crept dow

pte

ena

condition for my husband-a man whose name alone could make

cy beneath it was a pressure against the air. "The Consigliere is on his way to see to the succ

ips of an espresso, could by a mere lift of his h

od, illicit trade, and corporate fa

n his mantelpiece, expected not only to maintain a perfect curve at his g

past th

hut behind me, sealing me inside

ck of my throat, a sharp note over t

be. Tubes snaked from his arms and throat, and the hear

oof of my mouth until the taste of blood bloomed, a coppery an

rned his hea

mpending death, but the selfish cow

s voice was a dr

lowered his head and retreated from the room, a

ed shut again.

, did not wash over my skin bu

man in the bed. He wanted to clear his conscience. He wanted t

ently took his tremb

?" I forced a tremor into my own

g with the effort to pull in oxygen

e my lips and pulled my ha

nd fast, a pantomime of a woman whose wor

ears leaked from the corners, tra

infants in the hospital. Dante is Ale

houlders hit the cold wall, le

ured agony echo in the quiet room. "How coul

orenzo wheezed, his grip t

too many. I needed Dante to have the protection of my official wife. I needed

throat-rather, a knot of pure, boil

fe and his own legitimate bloo

a whisper. "Did she know you threw my baby in

ook his he

-just a street soldier with empty pockets. I owed her a life of comfort. A debt you could never understand. She suffered too mu

ith those patheti

sia. Call Dante. I need to ma

hed myself o

satisfaction that was spreading like a warmth through my che

it would shatter his entire legacy. And now, on his dea

s if from a grief too great to bear. I pulled my phone from m

Alessia answered with a

rds, the sound brittle and lost. "You need to come to the hospit

on the other end, followed by t

hand, my voice muffled as if by tears. "Lorenzo wa

. Alessia was probably already counting the billions she believed were about to land in her lap. She had no idea that the stage she was