Carlo nodded, cold eyes fixed on me. "That child died because you didn't care for her properly. A simple stomach ache, and she never came home from the hospital. Stop playing the victim, Arianna. Conceive again and do it right this time."
The words sliced straight through me, but before I could open my mouth, Marcello set his fork down. His voice was calm, but sharp enough to cut. "I already told you. Arianna is scared of pain. I won't let her suffer like that. If we never have kids, so be it."
Their faces dropped, heavy with disdain, and the air grew thick. They were about to start another round when I finally spoke. My voice was steady, even.
"You'll have a grandchild in half a month."
The room froze. Three pairs of eyes cut toward me. Somewhere deeper in the house, a clock ticked into the silence.
Marcello squeezed my hand, his face painted with that sweet, fake concern. "Sweetheart… You don't have to force yourself for me. I'll protect you."
I almost laughed. Protect me? He couldn't even stop himself from running into Serafina's arms every chance he got.
I smiled anyway. "You two want a grandson so badly. Let's make it happen for you."
They softened instantly, pleased with my answer. But Marcello looked uneasy, like he could smell something wrong but didn't know where it was coming from. His thumb pressed flat against the silver ring on his right hand, holding it still.
Then his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, and I caught the name. Serafina.
"Marcello, some guy wants a quickie, would it be okay?"
I counted in my head. One. Two. Three.
He stood right on cue. "Arianna, I have to handle something at the club. Stay and finish dinner. I'll come back for you later."
He didn't wait for me to answer. Just grabbed his jacket and left. I heard the front door close, then the crunch of gravel under tires, then nothing. The bodyguard who always trailed him followed without a word.
The second the door shut, Carlo and Giovanna dropped the fake politeness. Giovanna's fingers drifted to the string of black pearls at her throat, a single precise touch, as if confirming something was still in place.
"We'll give you less than a month. If you don't conceive again, don't ever dare show your face in this house. You come from nothing. Both your parents gone, no name, no wealth. Without Marcello, you're no one. Don't think we'll tolerate you forever."