Only then did I dare speak. "I don't have feelings for him anymore."
It was the most straightforward reason I could think of.
I could hardly tell my father that I had been bound to Dominic Valenti twice before. That the first time, I fell from a cliff and died. That the second time, I lost my head on the executioner's block, the whole Corsetti family lined up beside me, every last one put to the sword.
He wouldn't believe me even if I told him. Better to say nothing.
My father studied me, brow furrowed. "Serafina, you have never been reckless."
"There must be another reason."
"Since you won't say, I won't press."
"But let me remind you of one thing. Dominic has been by your side since childhood. He has always adored you. A match like that is rare. Don't do something you'll regret."
A rare match?
I used to believe that too. That Dominic Valenti was everything I could hope for.
We were promised to each other before we were born, the contract sealed before the Commission when our mothers were still carrying us. We grew up side by side.
From the first stirrings of young love, I dreamed of growing old with him. I held that dream for ten years.
Every letter he sent from the southern corridor, I smoothed flat beneath a paperweight and tucked carefully into a box, layer upon layer.
During the worst of the territorial war, when word came that he was dead, I carved both our names into a plaque of olive wood. Even if he was gone, I would keep his name beside mine.
That was how much I loved him.
And Dominic?
To pave the way for Carmela's entry into the Montecarlo family, he surrendered his crew and laid down his guns.
He told me, "Serafina, you've always been so understanding. I know you'll support my decision."
He asked me to give up my standing in the old borough and follow him to the outskirts, to a life stripped of territory and protection.
When I was carrying his child, he turned around and drove back to Aurelia, all to prop up Carmela's position.
I tried to stop him.
He said I had changed.
"The Serafina I knew would never be this unreasonable."
I stood there, frozen.
Something cracked open in my chest, and the cold wind howled straight through.
Three years of marriage. Three years in that safehouse on the edge of nothing, choking down whatever I could put together from what was left in the pantry.
Hands that once held embroidery needles split open at the knuckles from hauling firewood.