He had it all figured out. He'd been planning to give Catarina a home all along. Divorce me, register the child, remarry me like a transaction, like shuffling territory on a map. And every person in that room had already accepted it as the natural order of things. Because that was what Giovanna did. Giovanna bent. Giovanna knelt. Giovanna loved him so much she'd swallow anything.

Well then. Who was I to stand in his way?

I stepped into the doorway and spoke quietly. "A boy? Congratulations."

The moment I appeared, every face in the room went white. The laughter died like someone had cut a wire. One of the capos set his glass down too carefully. Catarina's hand drifted toward the bassinet, a reflex she couldn't quite hide.

Tomasso released Catarina instantly and crossed the room in three quick strides. His voice turned gentle, almost tender. "What are you doing here? You're pregnant. You should be resting at home."

"I heard everything you just said."

I looked up at him. "You want to divorce me so you can register Catarina's baby under your name. Enter him into the Rossetti bloodline."

"Giovanna, I just feel sorry for her. You know she has nowhere else to go. I'm only doing this because she was Fausto's wife. He was like a brother to me. He saved my life..."

His hand moved as he spoke, and I saw it. His fingers drifted to his right palm, tracing the faint scar there. The blood-oath mark. Fausto's name, invoked like a shield, the way it always was.

He scrambled to explain. I cut him off, my expression blank. "I agree. Let's get divorced."

"Really?"

His eyes lit up. He hadn't expected me to say yes that easily.

None of them had. I could feel the silence in the room behind him pressing against my back like a held breath. The Don's wife had just agreed to sever the blood-alliance between the Rossetti and Valente families, and she'd said it the way someone orders coffee. Tomasso didn't understand what he'd just been given. He wouldn't. Not yet.

His friends all wore expressions that said they'd seen this coming a mile away.

"Really."

I nodded. "Have the divorce papers drawn up and signed for me. Tomasso, the syndicate you run now is one we built together. If we're getting divorced, I'm taking half. That's fair, isn't it?"

"More than fair. Take all of it if you want. It's just a formality anyway!"