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Eight Graves Later, I Stopped Loving Him
NovelShort
Hoàn thành
Three hours before the alliance union was to be sealed, my betrothed sent word that he would not come for me. Instead, he turned his back on the pact and bound himself to Carmela Rossi before the eyes...
Chương (6)
第1章
Three hours before the alliance union was to be sealed, my betrothed sent word that he would not come for me. Instead, he turned his back on the pact and bound himself to Carmela Rossi before the eyes of the Family.
I stood through the murmurs that moved through the guests like smoke under a door, every whispered word a small knife. Then the younger cousin of my betrothed, Lorenzo Marchetti, pushed open the doors of the hall.
He came with the most extravagant procession the territory had seen in years, black cars gleaming like polished gun barrels, and he laid 1,001 roses at my feet. He confessed he had wanted me for years, that marrying me had always been his quiet dream. Moved by the way he pulled me out of that humiliation in front of the whole Family, I nodded. I gave him my yes on the spot.
In three years of our blood-bound union, I lost seven children before they ever drew breath. And at last I carried again.
Lorenzo was overjoyed. He drew me into his arms, and we turned together in a single slow step, like a dance no one else could see. His voice was full of tenderness when he told me to rest, and he swore on his own life that he would cherish me and the child both.
At three months along, I overheard him in the study with the Family's bought physician. "Don Marchetti, it is done. As before. The drug that empties the womb has been mixed into her milk."
"I confess I do not understand it. If Carmela can give you a son, why not your own wife?"
……
Lorenzo's laugh was low and bitter.
"The Old Don's edict is plain. The bloodline passes to whichever heir first sires a son. Matteo is sterile. Why would I let Elle suffer the shame of being the lesser woman, when I hold every card?"
So all those vows whispered against my hair were nothing but lies. If that was the truth of it, then I would leave.
"By doing this, Don, you give up more than the seat at the head of the Family. You give up the wife who would have stood beside you, the seven children the two of you might have raised under one roof."
"You have had me forge Matteo's medical records for years. He still does not know he can father nothing. If Carmela bears this child, and it can never call you Father, is any of this worth the price?"
Lorenzo's face softened, something between tenderness and sorrow moving behind his eyes.
"And so what if it cannot? I could not take Elle as my bride when it mattered, but I will see her safe and content to the end of her days. No one will take that from her. Not even the child Adriana carries for me."
The physician hesitated, then lowered his voice with quiet urgency. "But your wife. She has lost seven already. If she loses one more, I do not believe she will ever conceive again."
Lorenzo pressed his lips together. After a long pause, he said, "It is fine. I will keep her cared for the rest of my life, whatever comes."
The veins rose along the back of my hand where I gripped the handle of the study door. I was so angry my whole body trembled.
Before he could sense me there, I slipped back to our bedroom and sank to the floor in a daze. All this time I had believed it was my own frail body that had taken seven children from me in three years.
The Old Don, Lorenzo's father, had made the law clear before the whole Family. Lorenzo or Matteo, whichever cousin first produced a son would inherit the Marchetti name and rule the Family in his place.
After so many losses in so short a time, my health had crumbled. Yet I never once complained. I blamed only myself, drowning in guilt that my weakness was holding Lorenzo back from the throne that was his by right.
But in the end, all of it, every ounce of pain and sorrow, had been built on a lie.
Lorenzo had always steered me away from questions, insisting we take no precautions whenever we lay together. He soothed me each time, and with each loss my body grew weaker, my strength breaking apart piece by piece.
I understood now. To Lorenzo, my body and the seven children I had buried were nothing but obstacles in Carmela's path to happiness.
"Adriana, why are you sitting on the floor?" His voice cut through my thoughts as he came into the room. He crossed to me at once, easing me gently to my feet, his face carved with concern.
"It's nothing," I said quietly, forcing a weak smile. "Just a little morning sickness."
He rubbed my back, his touch light, soothing. "Tesoro, you've been pushing yourself too hard. Next time you feel unwell, promise me you'll call for me. It wounds me to think of you suffering alone."
"You've barely slept since the pregnancy. Once our child is born, I'll scold them properly for not taking better care of their mother."
"Here. Drink this. It will help you rest."
I looked down at the milk, and a pang of sorrow swelled in my chest. Would there even be a next time?
Before each of the miscarriages that came before, he had been just as attentive. From the late-night plates he carried to me himself, to the fruit he cut with his own hands because it was my favorite, his tenderness had always felt so real.
第2章
I had taken his care for love, when all along it had been an honor-killing dressed in tenderness. "Lorenzo, I don't like the taste tonight. Let me skip this one."
Lorenzo gave that helpless smile of his, the one that never once let me refuse. "Adriana, don't be stubborn. The physician said the more your body fights the food, the more it needs it."
"If you don't rest, the baby won't either. Aren't you the one who loves them most? Be good. For our baby. Here. Let me help you."
Half coaxing, half command, he pressed the rim of the glass to my lips. There was no room to refuse. There never was, in this house.
Lorenzo, were you so afraid my child would stand in Carmela's path? Or do you truly believe the only woman worthy of carrying your blood is her?
I closed my eyes in despair and drank the entire glass.
In less than half an hour, the poison took hold. I curled up on the bed in agony, drenched in cold sweat from the pain. Lorenzo had just finished his call to the Family's bought physician when he came back into our room. It was as if he'd been waiting outside the whole time.
Even after seven times before, losing my child again still felt like a knife twisting in my heart.
Through the haze, I caught the doctor's voice, low and careful, the way men in this house learned to speak. "Don Marchetti, your wife has lost far more blood than the other times. I'm afraid the damage is permanent. She'll never carry a child again."
Lorenzo said nothing. His eyes went red as he gathered me into his arms. "Adriana, don't worry. Even if we can never have children, I'll still love you. I'll take care of you for the rest of my life."
The Don who had been handed everything, who had men step aside when he crossed a room, now wiped the blood from my body with his own hands. He worried I'd take a chill after the miscarriage. So he held me close against him through the night, keeping me warm while I slept.
In the dead of night, deep in his sleep, Lorenzo murmured, "Carmela, don't be afraid. I'll see you get your happiness."
The tears I had held back for so long finally broke free. On the day of our blood-bound union, Lorenzo had promised me happiness. It was only a lie to keep me quiet, to keep me from standing in the way of Carmela's life.
In that moment, I understood. My whole marriage had been nothing but a joke.
I sent a message to my old friend in neutral territory, far beyond the Commission's reach:
[You once asked me to come see the world with you, remember? I've decided. I'll come to Lichtonia the day after tomorrow.]
I set the phone down. My lower abdomen still ached, deep and relentless.
The thought that I had just lost another child, and that the child's own father had taken it from me, left me breathless with pain. I locked myself in the bathroom and let the tears fall, replaying every moment I had shared with Lorenzo across these years.
When I stood, the phone slipped from my hand.
I bent to pick it up. That was when I saw it, tucked under the basin. A small bundle, wrapped with care in layer upon layer of expensive satin.
I unwrapped it, and found a thick photo album. An album filled with pictures of Carmela. From the age of fifteen to her now twenty-eight.
The design on the cover was familiar. I had seen it before, in Lorenzo's study. He had always loved photography.
Though Lorenzo was Matteo's younger cousin, he was only a few years older than the rest of us. When we were children, Lorenzo would watch Matteo and me squabble over some small thing, his face distant, as if such childish games were beneath a boy of his blood.
One day, when Carmela had just turned fifteen, she came to me and asked if we could be friends. I thought nothing of it. She was always alone, so I introduced her to Matteo and Lorenzo.
It was around then that Lorenzo began joining us. He even took up photography.
I thought it was only a sign of him growing up. The truth was, he had found someone he wanted.
The photos in that album. I had seen only a few of them. The rest I had never seen at all, not even back then.
第3章
Every smile, every frown, every glance and every fleeting gesture. Lorenzo's lens had captured Carmela's every movement, frame after frame, like a man cataloging something sacred.
After the day we were bound together in the alliance union, Lorenzo had never picked up that camera again.
Once, I asked him to take a portrait of me carrying his child. He told me, simply, that the camera was lost, and arranged for one of the Family's photographers to do the work instead.
The truth was he hadn't lost anything. His lens was reserved for one woman alone, and I had never been her.
I slid the album back into its hiding place, my eyes completely dried up. I had no more tears to waste on him.
On my phone I booked a seat on a flight bound for neutral territory, somewhere far beyond the Commission's long reach. Then I drafted the papers of severance from the Family. If he wanted Carmela that badly, let him have her.
The next morning my eyes were so swollen they looked like walnuts.
Lorenzo noticed, and something in him seemed to soften into worry. Unlike any other day, he made breakfast himself, in a kitchen that smelled faintly of garlic from last night's Sunday meal. He boiled an egg and peeled it with careful hands, then pressed it gently against my swollen eyes to bring down the swelling.
His tenderness was so convincing that for a moment I almost believed last night had been nothing more than a bad dream.
But the hollow ache in my belly held me firmly to the truth.
Lorenzo sighed when he saw I hadn't touched a single spoonful of the porridge he'd made.
"Adriana, we just lost our baby. I know you're heartbroken, and I'm hurting too, but you have to take care of yourself. After everything your body's been through, you can't keep going like this. Please eat something, for my sake. Don't make me worry, all right?"
"Where is my baby's body? I want to see him."
Three months. By then my child would have already taken shape. I would never hold him. I would never even see his face.
Lorenzo's answer was the same as it had been the seven times before. "I made certain the baby was properly buried. You're too distraught right now, cara. I won't have you breaking your heart further over a grave."
"My parents are grieving too. Come to the family estate tonight for dinner. It'll do all of us good to be together."
The moment I stepped through the iron gates of the Marchetti estate, I saw Carmela draped on Matteo's arm, every gesture of hers dripping with playful flirtation.
When she noticed me, she tilted her head and pushed her belly forward with a slow, deliberate pride, as if displaying a trophy.
"Oh, Adriana! It's been ages. Come, sit. I heard you lost another little one. You really must be careful not to overexert that fragile body of yours."
Ever since the wedding, things had sat tense and cold between me and the two of them. Whenever I came to the estate, I arranged my visits for the hours I knew they'd be elsewhere.
Today the luck wasn't with me.
I looked at Carmela's six-month belly and felt a sharp pang in my chest. She carried Lorenzo's child. And that man had never once let a pregnancy of mine survive past three months.
When Donna, Lorenzo's mother, saw me, her face curdled.
"Useless. You can't even keep a child alive in your own womb. How many times now? And still you have the nerve to look tired? How my son ended up bound to a woman like you, God only knows."
Donna was Lorenzo's blood mother and Matteo's stepmother both. At fifty, she had watched the rule of the Family that should have passed to her own son slip instead into Matteo's hands. The wound of it had never closed.
Once, Lorenzo would have stood between his mother and me. Now his eyes rested only on Carmela, full of longing and devotion, blind to the tension drawn tight as wire across the room.
"Donna, please don't trouble yourself," Carmela said sweetly, her voice thick with false concern. "It's only that Adriana wasn't blessed with the fortune to be a mother. After losing so many, it isn't as though she wished it on herself."
Donna scoffed, her fingers rising to roll the crucifix at her throat between them. "She is a cursed woman. Nothing more. Dragging my son down with her into ruin."
Pretending to make peace, Carmela moved to guide me toward a chair. As she rose, she let herself stumble.
She caught her balance at once, but Lorenzo didn't wait to see it. He shoved me aside and crossed the room to her.
Ignoring every other soul in the place, he pulled Carmela into his arms and asked, low and anxious, "Carmela, are you all right? You're carrying. Why are you on your feet alone? Where is Matteo?"
Carmela gave a honeyed smile. "Matteo's away on Family business across the water. He's about to take his seat as underboss, so the work's been swallowing him whole."
She cut me a mocking glance before she turned back to Lorenzo, arranging her face into an expression so painfully, cloyingly sweet it set my teeth on edge.
第4章
“Lorenzo, I think I twisted my ankle just now. It hurts so much,” Carmela said, all pouty, one hand pressed to the swell of her belly.
Lorenzo didn’t say a word. He simply swept Carmela up into his arms and carried her toward the upstairs bedroom, not even sparing me a glance. The soldiers stationed at the foot of the staircase stepped aside without a sound, eyes lowered, as a man does when the Don has chosen his path and no one is foolish enough to stand in it.
Meanwhile, Donna shot me a pointed look. Her fingers found the crucifix at her throat and began to roll it slowly between them.
“Not only can you not give this Family a son, you can’t even keep your own husband. If Matteo hadn’t taken Carmela first, do you think my Lorenzo would have ever looked at you? And you have the nerve to eat at my table. Get upstairs. You ruin my appetite just by breathing the same air,” she said, her voice dripping with cold sarcasm, the cross still turning under her thumb like a curse said as a prayer.
I had always known Donna despised me.
She saw me as the woman the underboss had passed over, the one who had clung to her son and made him a laughingstock in front of the whole Family. After eight engineered losses, her contempt had only sharpened into something with an edge.
Because she was Lorenzo’s mother, I tried to tell myself the fault was mine for failing to carry a child. I felt the guilt of it, especially in the days when Lorenzo would step between us and shield me from her tongue.
I endured it all.
Tonight, though, Lorenzo was so consumed by Carmela that he seemed to have forgotten I existed at all.
For a brief moment, I considered laying the truth bare across that table. I pushed the thought down as quickly as it rose.
I had already decided to break from this Family and run. So what was the point of saying anything?
I went upstairs in silence and noticed Carmela’s bedroom door standing slightly ajar.
Something pulled me toward it.
What I saw made my heart freeze. Carmela, her clothes pulled askew, lay on the bed with Lorenzo above her.
“Lorenzo, you’re still the one who looks after me best. Matteo can’t give you an heir, and if you let Adriana carry your son, he loses the bloodline. If that happens... I don’t know how much suffering they’ll put me through.”
Lorenzo’s breath broke between movements, his eyes gone dark with want. “Is Matteo good to you? Has he raised a hand to you?”
“Since the pregnancy he treats me like I’m made of glass. Terrified I’ll tire myself. He washes my feet with his own hands. He’s gentler with me than ever.”
Lorenzo’s expression turned faintly bitter. “As long as he’s good to you... as long as you’re happy... I have no regrets.”
“Lorenzo, you’ve given up so much for me. I couldn’t be your wife, but I can give you this. Tonight, I’m yours.”
Lorenzo could hold himself back no longer, and the two of them came together harder, the bed frame knocking against the wall.
I never knew that the cold, controlled Don, the man whose stillness silenced rooms, could lose himself like this.
Tears fell as I stumbled back to my own bedroom. My thumb found the bare ring finger and pressed against it, reaching for a band that no longer sat there.
Lorenzo didn’t come back the whole night.
The next morning, Lorenzo looked at me with eyes full of guilt. He smoothed the lapel of his jacket with one slow pass of his hand.
“Adriana, I meant to come back to you last night. My mother kept me until dawn, going on and on. I just... couldn’t get free.”
I didn’t name the lie. I only turned toward the door to wait for him.
A bucket of kitchen scraps came down over me without warning, and Carmela stepped in front of me, the slop pail still in her hands, a mocking smile on her mouth.
“Adriana, did you enjoy the show? Watching Lorenzo come undone over me?” The corner of her mouth lifted a half-second too early, a flicker of triumph she couldn’t quite swallow.
So she had left the door open on purpose.
“Losing a child doesn’t feel good, does it? But you won’t have to worry about that anymore. You’ll never carry one again.”
“If you ever found the nerve to get pregnant again, I’d make you understand the consequences. You will not take my place as the Don’s true woman.”
“For me, Lorenzo didn’t just give up the bloodline to Matteo. He helped me carry this child. And those babies you lost? They became my... supplements.”
My head snapped up, my voice shaking. “What did you just say?”
Carmela laughed softly. “What? Did you never wonder why, every time you lost one, Lorenzo told you the child was already buried, that you couldn’t see it? Because I told him to keep it from you. Consuming them... it’s good for my health.”
Despair, rage, and disbelief hit me all at once.
So that was why Lorenzo never let me see my children.
How could he?
Everything that happened... all of it... was for Carmela?
第5章
Carmela laughed, and the sound of it had a blade hidden in it.
"Stop making that pitiful face. You're looking for someone to blame, huh? If you wanna do that, then blame yourself for being useless! It was only natural that your children were fit to be my nourishment when their mother was someone as weak as you!"
I couldn't take it anymore. I raised my hand and slapped Carmela across the face.
Smack!
Unfortunately, my slap never landed on her face. Lorenzo had swiftly yanked Carmela behind him and took the hit himself. The men posted at the doorway went still, hands drifting toward their jackets, waiting to see which way their Don would turn.
He shoved me forcefully to the marble, his anger boiling over. "Adriana Bellini, what are you doing?!"
Carmela cried her eyes out. "Lorenzo, I just wanted to comfort Adriana. I meant to tell her not to be sad over the loss of her child."
"But she got jealous that I'm the one carrying. She accused me of stealing her place as the Don's true woman and tried to dump all her frustrations on me. I pushed her to protect myself. It wasn't intentional! I already apologized, but she screamed that I must lose this baby too, and then she came at me!"
Before I could explain, Lorenzo looked at me with disdain. "Adriana, I never knew you were such a petty woman."
"If you couldn't keep your baby, it's because of your incapable body. Why take your anger out on Carmela and repay her kindness this way? Don't envy things that aren't yours. Apologize to Carmela. Now."
Incapable? Hah.
The more I looked at him, the more he became a stranger to me, this polished head of the Marchetti bloodline who could order a man into the river and still cut fruit by candlelight. "Lorenzo, tell me. What did you do with the bodies of my lost babies?"
Lorenzo furrowed his brow. "I had them buried properly, of course. On consecrated ground. Hadn't I told you that?"
His acting was flawless. Behind him, Carmela tucked her face into his shoulder, and for half a second too soon the corner of her mouth lifted before she remembered to weep again.
"Lorenzo, you're right. I shouldn't envy things that aren't mine. Don't worry. I won't fight Carmela anymore." Then I left without sparing either of them a second glance.
Lorenzo was feeling something close to unease. I heard the breath catch in his throat, the start of my name forming on his tongue, but Carmela stopped him.
"Lorenzo, the slop she poured on me has made me sick. Take me to the Family's physician."
Lorenzo hesitated, just slightly. In the end, he didn't follow me.
Once I was back at the estate, I gathered everything Lorenzo had ever given me across the years and fed it all into the fire.
When I pulled out the alliance pact that had bound my bloodline to his, a WeTalk notification chimed. I opened the app and read the screen.
[Adriana, I simply told Lorenzo I felt unwell, and he summoned the finest obstetric physician in the territory.]
[The man was beyond the Commission's lines, in neutral ground. Lorenzo said he'd fly him home by private helicopter. Aren't you jealous?]
I didn't respond. As I finished reading, I lifted my gaze to the blood oath already curling in the flames, the paper that had made me a contract between two families, going black and turning to ash.
I didn't care whether Lorenzo ever saw this. I already knew he wasn't coming home tonight.
Sure enough, Lorenzo called.
"Adriana, Carmela's having complications with the pregnancy. Matteo's away on Family business, and as her brother-in-law I have to see to her. Don't be angry with me."
I couldn't stop the image rising in my mind, the photo Carmela had sent earlier. Her face glowing as she ate the fruit Lorenzo had cut for her with his own hands. She hadn't looked sick at all.
"Sure, I understand," I replied. "A pregnant woman's well-being comes first. Take good care of her."
There was a brief pause before Lorenzo spoke softly. "Adriana, I didn't mean to be harsh with you today. I know our baby just left us. I know you're hurting."
"But Carmela is carrying the Marchetti bloodline. Neither of us can continue the family name, and that's the only thing the old Don's edict cares about. If something happens to her, my mother would never recover. The whole Family wouldn't."
I couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh. Why did he need so many excuses?
"Stay home and rest," he continued, his tone shifting, warming, the way it always did when he wanted something. "Tomorrow's your birthday. I've booked the finest hotel in our district, and I've got a surprise planned for you. I'll come for you in the morning."
第6章
By noon the next day, Lorenzo still hadn’t returned to the estate.
I placed the signed papers of severance on the table and set a recording to be sent to him at a scheduled hour, the way a man times a debt to come due.
Once that was done, I took up my single case and had the driver carry me toward the airfield at the edge of Marchetti territory.
As soon as I arrived, Lorenzo called again.
"Sorry, Adriana. Some of the Family’s partners showed up without warning to settle next season’s couture arrangement. I can’t leave right now."
"I had my secretary see to everything for you. And I remembered you’ve always wanted me to design a dress for you, right? It’s all ready. Once you try it on, it’ll look amazing."
"Okay, thanks."
After the line went dead, my gaze drifted to two girls standing near the gate.
They were huddled together, eyes glued to a phone screen, squealing in excitement.
"Oh my God, I can’t believe the Don is not only beautiful to look at but designs such gorgeous things for a woman who’s expecting. I’m starting to wish I were pregnant!"
"You think a woman can simply buy them? Every piece at today’s showing was designed by Don Marchetti himself for his pregnant wife. Each one is unique, cut from the most expensive cloth money can move. There must be hundreds of them. She’ll never wear them all before the child comes. I’m so jealous."
"I heard the Don doesn’t want to trouble his wife, so the showing was by invitation only, kept quiet like everything the Family keeps quiet. Your man is really something, an associate at the couture house and still getting us these photographs. If it wasn’t for him, we’d never get a look at any of it."
In the video, Carmela walked arm in arm with Lorenzo, gliding without effort in the elegant gowns made for her alone, her smile radiant and carefree.
The Marchetti couture houses were a power in the fashion world, the polished face the Family showed the city, and Lorenzo’s hand for design was nothing short of extraordinary. I used to tease him, asking him to make a dress for me.
He would always brush it off, saying he was too busy, that there was never time. But for Carmela? He’d cut hundreds of pieces without a second thought.
Looking back on what he’d said that morning, about designing a dress for me as a surprise, that smug warmth in his voice, the irony landed like a knife between my ribs.
Soon the call to board came. I pressed my thumb to the bare finger where the band used to sit, the absence the only thing left to hold, then turned off my phone and settled into my seat on the flight bound for neutral territory, beyond the Commission’s reach.
After choosing Carmela’s clothes for her, Lorenzo went to the hotel for the surprise party he’d arranged for Adriana, one of the legitimate fronts the Family kept spotless.
He pictured how she would look in the dress he’d chosen, soft and angelic under the lights.
But instead of Adriana, it was his secretary who met him, flustered and pale, the man’s hands twisting before him. "Don Marchetti, something’s wrong. The madam is gone."