Chapter 4

Soraya

Through the fog, I thought I heard Tiziano saying my name. His voice was shaking.

"Soraya, stay with me. Don't you dare close your eyes."

"You want to see the kids, right? Giovanna. Cesare. I'll bring them to you, I swear to God. Just wake up. Please."

I had to be hallucinating. Tiziano didn't say things like that.

When I finally surfaced, I tried to move my arm, and pain ripped through my chest. I sucked in a breath.

"Don't move." Concetta's hand settled gently on my shoulder. Her eyes were wet. "You've suffered enough this time, cara. I'll make sure Tiziano makes it up to you."

"I don't want anything from him," I rasped. My voice sounded like torn burlap. "If he has to give me something, make him sign the divorce papers."

She sighed. "I understand. But you know my grandson. He won't sign easily. Leave it to me."

"Sign what?"

Tiziano was in the doorway. The second he saw my eyes open, his whole face lit up. He crossed the room in three strides and caught my wrist.

"How do you feel? Does anything hurt?"

The cool, untouchable Don was gone. His hair was a mess, there were dark circles under his eyes, and he was talking too fast.

I pressed my lips together and pulled my hand free. "I'm fine."

He blinked, and something like frustration crossed his face. "I didn't mean to push you. I swear, I panicked. It was instinct." He leaned closer. "Whatever you want, it's yours. Just don't be angry with me."

"You don't have to explain," I cut in. "I know where I stand."

That one word before I passed out, why, had just been the pain talking. I already knew the answer.

I watched something uneasy move behind his eyes. The old me would have clung to him. Even when we fought, it was always about the children; I always gave him something to push against. Now I'd taken a bullet for the woman he loved, and I wasn't even complaining. He didn't know what to do with that.

He smoothed it over anyway. "You're the Don's wife. You saved Rosalinda's life. Stop butting heads with her, and she'll come around."

I pulled the sheet over my head.

He didn't push.

Dario never came to see me. Neither did Rosalinda.

For days, Tiziano barely left my hospital room. Flowers. Velvet boxes from Bulgari and Cartier stacked on the windowsill. Anything for a smile. Even in our best days, he'd never been this attentive, and for one weak moment, I almost let myself believe it meant something.

Then I was discharged.

Rosalinda was waiting in the front hall of the estate with Dario at her side. The moment she saw me, she dropped to her knees on the marble.

I stumbled back, every muscle tight. "What are you doing? What are you trying to pin on me now? You already hold half this family in your hand, Rosalinda. Why can't you just leave me alone?"

Her eyes went flat and mean, and she pitched her voice so only I could hear.

"As long as you're breathing, you could take my children back. I don't have a drop of my own blood in this house. Everything I have, you could take. You should've had the decency to die in that delivery room."

It was almost funny. Tiziano worshipped the ground she walked on. What could I possibly take from her?

I turned to go. She grabbed my wrist. I yanked free, and my nails caught her cheek, leaving three thin red lines.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Tiziano's voice. Triumph flickered in Rosalinda's eyes before she pressed a hand to her face, tears welling right on cue.

"Tiziano, please don't blame Soraya. She didn't mean to—"

"Yes, she did!" Dario shouted. "Dad, she made Mamma kneel and then she hit her! Make her stop!"

I stared at my son. I'd expected Rosalinda to lie. Not him. Every word was a knife.

Tiziano narrowed his eyes. He looked exhausted.

"Soraya, I thought you'd finally learned. Apparently not." He gestured toward the guards. "Throw her in the dungeon until she remembers her place."