The Don Let My Son Fall to Save His Mistress

After my son Marcello died, I stopped doing every single thing Lorenzo De Luca couldn't stand. I stopped going through his phone. I stopped asking where he'd been. When he stayed out all night, I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I didn't even cry when a rival family's men came for me. My car flipped on the Queens Expressway. My leg snapped clean through. They brought me to a De Luca clinic. The doctor asked me for a relative to call. "Nobody's coming," I said. But the nurse knew my face. Everyone in the New York underworld knows the Rose of Ordnance. "You're the Don's wife," she whispered. "He's upstairs. Do you want me to call him?" That was when it came back to me. This clinic belonged to the De Lucas. I shook my head. "Don't bother." Thirty minutes later, Lorenzo came anyway. Those gray eyes bore down on me. One look from him and people forgot how to breathe. He was in a custom black suit, a silver De Luca crest on the lapel. He looked like a blade just drawn from its sheath. "You got hit. Why didn't you call me?" I looked down. "It's just a broken leg. It's nothing." Something in how flat I said it made his chest go tight. I could see it work in his jaw. He remembered a different Elena. The one who made a fuss over a paper cut. The one who curled into his arms for a kiss, for a little attention. Back when we were young and I still wanted him. Now my leg was broken and I didn't so much as frown. Lorenzo started to say something. Out in the hall, the nurses were whispering. "The Don's so good to Sofia Rossi. She skins her knee and he calls in every specialist. Carries her everywhere. Her feet never touch the ground." Lorenzo's jaw tightened. He looked at me, waiting for the jealousy. Waiting for the fight. I didn't even blink. My eyes stayed down. I lay still on the bed. His mood soured. "Don't listen to them," he said, cold. "Sofia got hurt on a job. I only brought her in." "Mm." I nodded. That was all. "You don't believe me." "I believe you." The words came easy. They just didn't mean anything anymore. "Sofia's your adopted sister. You care about her. Of course you do." Once, this was all he'd wanted. Once, he'd have snapped at me. "Sofia's my sister. Quit starting things. Can't you just stop?" Now I'd stopped. I didn't cry. I didn't fight. He should have been glad. Instead I watched it eat at him. Wrong. All of it was wrong to him now. A nurse pushed the door open. "Don, Sofia says her knee's really hurting. She needs you upstairs." Lorenzo was already irritated. "I'm not a doctor. Get one who is." The nurse left. Lorenzo turned back to me, something like regret in his eyes. "Elena. Is this still about Marcello? Sofia made a mistake. I dealt with her." He paused. He stepped closer. He sat on the edge of my bed. "We can have more children." He took my hand. "I'll stay with you all week. Just tell me you're all right." I slid my hand out of his quickly. Like I'd had practice. His brow furrowed. He was about to snap. Then something crashed in the hallway. Sofia Rossi had gone down right outside my door. She was on crutches. She'd done it on purpose. Lorenzo rushed to her and swept her up into his arms. "What are you doing down here? You're supposed to be resting." "I heard the Don's wife was hurt," Sofia whimpered. "I came to see her." She shrank into his chest, like I was the one who'd done something to her, and looked at me with wet eyes. "Don't be angry with me," she cried. "I didn't mean for Marcello to die." Once, that would have broken me. Once, I'd have screamed at Lorenzo. Why do you keep protecting her? She killed our son! Now I said nothing. I just closed my eyes. I must have looked pale. Worn down. Like I might break. It twisted something in him. I could tell. But he didn't stay. "I'll take Sofia upstairs," he said under his breath. "I'll be right back." He carried Sofia out. He didn't come back that night. My phone rang instead. The National Ordnance Research Center. "Professor Vittorini, are you sure about this? Project Heaven's Ladder is classified. You'd be out in the desert for decades. No contact with the outside world. Not even your husband." "I'm sure." My voice was steady. "I've already filed for divorce. The thirty-day waiting period is up in a week. I'll be free. A project like this is perfect for me." The voice on the other end drew a sharp breath. "Professor, everyone knows how much you love Lorenzo De Luca. You gave up so much for him. You could have been our chief engineer." Something in my chest went hollow. I was a genius. A prodigy. The Rose of Ordnance. I could solve any problem there was. Except one. Lorenzo. Around him, my logic fell apart. My mind went blank. All I saw was him. All I wanted was him. We'd been classmates since we were kids. Everyone called us the Dream Team. Because every exam came out the same way. First place, Lorenzo. Second place, me. I fought to beat him. I never once managed it. Worse, he never studied. It just came to him. He sat up on his throne and laughed down at the rest of us. I pretended to hate him. But I loved him. I always had. Senior year, I walked up to him, my face burning. "Lorenzo. If I beat you on the final. Will you be my boyfriend?" I was braced for a flat no. He leaned in. His breath against my ear. "You take first place, I'll marry you." For that throwaway promise, I studied myself into the ground. I posted the highest score in the whole region. Number one. Lorenzo kept his word. He proposed in public. Rented every screen in Times Square. Rained rose petals down over the whole city. "Elena, I love you. When the time's right, marry me." Down on my knees in the flowers, I cried. I was the happiest woman alive. I found out the truth later. He proposed for one reason and one reason only. To bury a scandal. Everyone was talking about him and his adopted sister, the word "i****t" going around. He needed a better story. A genius love story. A perfect match. The public would eat it up. And I was the perfect cover. "Professor? Are you there?" The voice on the phone was getting impatient. "Have you changed your mind? It'd be understandable. You love your husband so much, after all—" "I haven't changed my mind," I said, cutting in. "And I won't later either. Because I don't love him anymore." The door banged open. Lorenzo stood in the doorway, those gray eyes gone to ice. "You don't love me? Say it again. Say you don't love me."