Chapter 4 - The Man Who Wanted the Rosetti Bloodline DeadThe attack ended before Enzo could enter the mansion.
He disappeared into the night.
No body.
No arrest.
Only one message left behind.
A silver envelope.
Inside was a photograph of Michael Rosetti.
And a handwritten sentence.
ASK YOUR HUSBAND WHY HE CANNOT GIVE YOU A CHILD.
Clara stared.
Her eyes moved to Dante.
“What does that mean?”
Dante said nothing.
“Dante.”
He took the paper from her.
“Nothing.”
“Don't lie.”
His jaw tightened.
“I can't have children.”
She froze.
“Why?”
“An injury.”
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“How bad?”
“Permanent.”
Clara stared.
Then looked at the message again.
“Everyone knows?”
“No.”
“Your family?”
“My uncle does.”
“Why would he mention it?”
“Because he wants you to question our marriage.”
Clara folded the note.
“I don't.”
Dante looked at her.
“What?”
“I don't question it.”
“You should.”
“Why?”
“Because you deserve children.”
She stared at him.
“You think that's the only reason a marriage matters?”
“No.”
“Then stop deciding what I deserve.”
He looked almost stunned.
Clara walked closer.
“You said this marriage began as protection.”
“Yes.”
“But somewhere along the way, you started treating me like your wife.”
His eyes moved over her face.
“You are my wife.”
“And you are my husband.”
His voice lowered.
“Yes.”
“Then stop pushing me away.”
Dante looked down.
“I don't know how to do this.”
“Neither do I.”
She took his hand.
“But we can learn.”
Their relationship changed after that.
They ate together.
Worked together.
She began helping with legitimate business operations.
Dante began telling her about his childhood.
He learned she hated roses but loved daisies.
She learned he hated crowded restaurants.
He learned she sang when she cooked.
She learned he couldn't sleep when it rained.
Slowly, the arrangement became a marriage.
Then one evening, in the library, Clara kissed him first.
He froze.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Their first kiss was gentle.
Then deeper.
Then everything neither had said aloud became impossible to hide.
Three months later, Clara stood in the bathroom of the Rosetti mansion at seven in the morning.
She stared at the pregnancy test.
Two lines.
Her hand trembled.
“No.”
She took another.
Two lines.
Another.
Two lines.
She sank onto the edge of the bathtub.
Dante had been told he was infertile.
The doctors had said there was no chance.
So this should have been impossible.
Yet she was pregnant.
She covered her mouth.
A strange combination of fear and happiness flooded her.
Then she remembered Enzo's message.
ASK YOUR HUSBAND WHY HE CANNOT GIVE YOU A CHILD.
She suddenly understood.
Someone had known.
Someone had lied.
The question was why.
Five months later, morning sickness hit her in the middle of a Rosetti family meeting.
Forty men were gathered in the marble hall.
Business associates.
Security.
Family representatives.
Dante sat at the head of the table.
Clara had been standing beside him when nausea suddenly overwhelmed her.
She barely made it to the nearest bathroom.
Everyone stared.
Dante followed immediately.
Minutes later, the family doctor arrived.
After an examination, the doctor looked at Dante.
Then at Clara.
“Congratulations.”
Silence.
“She’s pregnant.”
The room froze.
Someone dropped a glass.
Dante didn't move.
His face had gone completely blank.
Then every person in the room looked at him.
Because everyone knew.
Dante Rosetti could never father a child.
Until Clara.
A man at the end of the table whispered,
“That’s impossible.”
Dante slowly stood.
“Who said that?”
Nobody answered.
His eyes were lethal.
The doctor swallowed.
“I'll need to run more tests.”
Clara touched her stomach.
Dante looked at her.
For a moment, the feared mafia boss looked less like a criminal king and more like a terrified man.
Then the doors opened.
Enzo walked in.
Alive.
Smiling.
May you like
“Well,” he said.
“Looks like the lie finally broke.”
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