Chapter 4Surprise! You're Not the Don's Wife

I'd only said one sentence about my allergy, and somehow that had become me making a scene.

Rita's voice caught. "I'm sorry, Mae, let me make you a fresh egg instead. It won't take long..."

She stood, moving toward the kitchen.

Antonio suddenly burst into tears, grabbing at Rita's sleeve. "Mommy, don't go! I want Mommy!"

Michele shot up from his chair, the legs scraping sharply across the floor.

He scooped Antonio up and turned to me, his voice gone cold. "Mae, have you had enough of this yet?

"I'm taking Antonio upstairs. You sit here and think about what you've done. Don't embarrass yourself any further."

He got up and walked past me without slowing down, like I was a stranger he happened to be passing on the street.

His footsteps faded away on the second floor.

Rita's tears stopped instantly. She turned to me, a triumphant smirk curling at the corner of her mouth.

"How does it feel, playing pretend wife for four years? Oh, you still don't know, do you?"

She stood and leaned in close to me. "I'm Michele's legal wife. If you have any self-respect left, you'll crawl away and disappear."

Before I could move, she pinned me down with one hand and used the other to fork a mouthful of pasta straight into my mouth.

"You filthy mistress," she shrieked. "This is exactly what you deserve to eat!"

The briny taste burned down my throat like fire, and my throat began to swell shut, making it hard to breathe.

Worse, a sharp, twisting pain tore through my abdomen, like something inside me was being ripped away.

Warm blood ran down the inside of my thigh, soaking into the hem of my dress.

I collapsed onto the floor, my body seizing. I clutched at my throat, dragging in heavy, labored breaths, and with my other hand I fought to protect my stomach. "No, please, don't take my baby..."

Rita stepped on my hand and smiled, wide and triumphant. "Let's get this straight right now. I'm the real lady of this house!"

She yanked open a drawer, grabbed a knife, and slashed it across her own arm. Blood welled up instantly.

She dropped to her knees, screaming.

"Mae, I'm sorry, don't kill me, I'll go, I swear, just please, spare me. Spare Antonio."

"Rita!" Michele came tearing down the stairs at the sound, his eyes wide with shock, and rushed to gather the bleeding Rita into his arms.

"Have you lost your mind?" he roared at me. "She was kind enough to make you breakfast, kind enough to stay and help us with the child, and this is how you repay her? How did you turn this vicious?"

He didn't wait for an answer. "If anything happens to Rita, you will answer for it. When I get back, you're going to get on your knees and apologize to her until she forgives you."

Rita leaned against his shoulder. Before Michele turned to leave, she shot me one look, her eyes brimming with tears while a triumphant smile tugged at her lips.

Michele never once looked back.

I curled up on the floor, the blood spreading beneath me staining the hardwood dark.

My swollen throat wouldn't let air through, and the pain in my abdomen kept building, wave after wave.

I knew, right then, that I'd lost my baby.

In a house where I'd never once been treated like I belonged, while my husband ran out the door with the woman he actually loved in his arms, I lost the last real thing that had ever existed between Michele and me.

With the last of my strength, I found my phone and dialed my father's number.

Blood smeared the screen, blurring the call button, and I heard his voice come through the line, frantic.

"Mae, Mae! What's wrong? Are you all right?"

I tried to speak, but my throat was too swollen to make a sound. All I could manage was a breath of air carrying the last few words I had left. "Papa, help me..."

The next thing I was aware of was a pair of strong arms lifting me. Someone injected me with something for the allergic reaction. Someone wrapped me in a blanket as I kept losing blood.

My father's men had come for me.

In the last moment before they lifted me into the car, my blurred vision found the villa I'd lived in for four years, the place I'd once believed was my home.

Now, I was only relieved that I was finally getting out.