Chapter 1My Husband Claimed He Was Allergic to Women,Until I Saw Him With His Mistress

Everyone in the Family knew that my husband, Don Lorenzo Falcone, had been born allergic to women. Me included.

On the day we swore our blood oath, blushing, I leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth. He kicked me off the bed.

Lorenzo went white, retching until he couldn't stop, and that same night he moved into the study where he kept the Family's ledgers.

Five years bound under Omertà, and we had never once shared a bed.

I moved through his world like a contagion, keeping six feet of distance from him wherever we went, past the soldiers who lowered their eyes when I passed.

Even inside the estate I wrapped myself head to toe in a raincoat and gloves, terrified of doing him harm.

Then came the day I accompanied a deaf client on a cliffside bungee jump, one of the Family's silent partners who trusted no ears but mine. Lorenzo's foot slipped, and he nearly fell. Instinctively, I reached out to steady him.

He raised his hand and shoved me off the cliff.

I clung helplessly to the rock face, watching him turn and gather the terrified young woman into his arms, gentle as he soothed her:

"Don't be scared. I'm here."

So it turned out that with true love in your arms, you could weather anything.

Fine. Then I'd let them have each other.

……

The wind howled across the cliff, and the client clutched at my hand in panic.

But her grip kept slipping.

Terrified, I looked over at Lorenzo beside us and forced out the words:

"Lorenzo, pull me up! The client can't hold on much longer!"

Lorenzo released the woman in his arms and lowered his eyes.

His gaze settled on my arm, torn and bloody, and my bare fingertips. The signet ring on his right hand went still. He frowned faintly.

His voice was terrifyingly calm.

"There's water below. A drop like this won't kill anyone. Wait for the rescue team."

That was the last thing I heard before I fell.

In the end, the client's strength gave out and she let go.

The icy surface of the lake slapped the stars into my eyes, and the foul, reeking water flooded into my body.

Yet none of it could suffocate me the way his words just had.

I'd swallowed too much water, and the doctor at the Family's private clinic said my lungs were badly infected. I needed emergency treatment right away.

But the one who came to sign the papers was Nico Vale, the Don's right-hand courier.

He glanced at my ashen face, cleared his throat once, quietly, his tone reproachful:

"Ma'am, do you have any idea how your recklessness nearly derailed the Don's sit-down with the Sicilian partners tonight?!"

For a moment, it felt like I'd fallen back into that frozen lake.

The cold ached all the way through my heart.

The baby inside me didn't make it either.

That was the child I'd gotten only after begging Lorenzo again and again, after enduring hundreds of injections.

And because his father stood by and did nothing, that child left me forever.

It wasn't until the third day in the clinic that Lorenzo deigned to appear.

He sat with his legs crossed in the chair, not a trace of concern on his face, the ring turning slow on his finger, and the first thing out of his mouth was an accusation:

"Why weren't you wearing gloves that day? You know perfectly well I'm allergic to women. Good intentions, bad results. That's just stupid."

Lorenzo glanced at the miscarriage report beside the bed, his eyes flat and still, and his hand went flat on the armrest:

"A child that fragile clearly isn't cut out to survive in a world like ours. Just as well it's gone."

I crushed the white sheet into wrinkles in my fists.

He had never once shown a flicker of anticipation for this child.

The only one who'd ever been happy was me. Always just me.

I forced down the ache rising in my chest and spoke quietly:

"Why did you hold that interpreter of yours? Aren't you afraid of the allergy?"

Lorenzo's expression froze for a beat, and something rippled through those ever-calm eyes.

"She was so frightened at the time. I forgot."

"The girl was on her period and couldn't afford to catch a chill. She was there doing work for me, after all. I could hardly let her fall too."

Something bitter twisted inside me.

In the second year of our oath, I'd had such severe cramps that I was burning up, drifting in and out of a fevered haze.

The housekeeper reminded Lorenzo to bring the fever down with a damp cloth.

When my fingertips accidentally brushed his, Lorenzo flung the entire basin of cold water in his hand all over me.

And his very first reaction was to rush to the bathroom to wash his hands and dry heave.