The Baby That Wasn't Mine

When I was eight months pregnant, carrying the Marchetti heir, someone pushed me from the second-floor landing of the estate. I crashed to the marble below, pain searing through me as blood pooled around my body.

In a frenzy, my husband, Salvatore, the Don himself, carried me out to the car and summoned the surgeons the Family kept on quiet retainer, men who asked no questions and signed no records. By some mercy, they saved the baby.

When I woke, however, neither the baby nor Salvatore was at my side.