Married to the Don's Lie

Seven years into my secret marriage to Leon Ferrante—Don of the Ferrante Family—and he still wouldn't make it public.

Before the vows, I was his Consigliere. Every arms deal went through me.

After? Just another housewife. Swapped my holster for an apron. Kitchen counter became my war zone.

He didn't want kids. Said he had to take care of his autistic little brother.

I got it. So I gave it all up—for his Family, for that kid.

The Family blew up fast. The kid? Went from blank stares to sharp comebacks. Even started talking.

But Leon still kept me in the dark.

His mother wouldn't quit. "Give him a healthy heir. He'll settle down."

I thought maybe she was right. I clung to him for a few nights.

I got pregnant.

Came home with the results, ready to tell him—

Then I heard his "autistic" brother ask, clear as day:

"Papa, are you gonna divorce Anna and marry someone else?"

Seven years into my secret marriage to Leon Ferrante—Don of the Ferrante Family—and he still wouldn't make it public.

Before the vows, I was his Consigliere. After? My name vanished from the meeting roster.

He didn't want kids. Said he had to take care of his autistic little brother, Antonio.

So I did it all—brought that boy from blank stares to full-on smiles.

His family kept pushing for a "real heir."

And today, just when I was about to tell him I was pregnant, I caught Antonio asking,

"Papa, are you gonna divorce Anna and marry someone else?"

***

I froze outside the study, clutching the report—two months pregnant. Healthy fetus. My whole body went cold.

"Don't call me that," Leon's voice was low, sharp. "I'm your brother. Who told you I'm dumping Anna and marrying someone else?"

Antonio stared at the floor. "Ms. Vitti said... you're gonna leave Anna and marry her. She told me to call her Mom."

I crumpled the paper in my fist.

"That's a damn lie," Leon snapped. "I'm not divorcing Anna. Carla's business, that's it."

I leaned against the wall, letting out a shaky breath.

Leon sucked at feelings, sure. But cheat? I never thought he'd go there.

And Antonio calling him "Papa"? He was behind for his age. Carla was definitely twisting his head.

I figured I'd tell Leon about the pregnancy first—ease into the rest after.

I reached for the doorknob.

Yanked back.

"The banquet's starting. You just loitering around now?" Marcella, Leon's mother, all venom and pearls, glared like I'd spit on the floor.

"I—" I tried handing her the report.

She turned her back, full of disgust. "Change. You look like hell. A Don's wife should dress like one."

Voices called from downstairs.

I tucked the report into my clothes.

I'd talk to Leon after the show.

***

Silverware gleamed. The air reeked of truffle and cigars.

I lingered in the shadows, watching the same people I used to sit next to at negotiation tables gab about politics. My eyes