Chapter 17 The Name They Used Against Me #2
The gathering is being held at the estate, in the large reception room that Vera has always controlled like her personal domain.
But today, Leon has made it clear to the staff that I am hosting alongside him. I choose a dress that's elegant but not ostentatious, something that says I belong here without trying too hard to prove it.
The yarn necklace sits against my collarbone. I considered leaving it off, wearing something more formal, but in the end I kept it. It's a reminder of what Leon and I have built, of the effort he's put in, of the choice I've made.
Leon finds me in our room, straightening the yarn loops.
"You look beautiful," he says.
"I look nervous."
"That too." He comes up behind me, meeting my eyes in the mirror. "We don't have to do this."
"Yes, we do. This is exactly what we have to do."
He kisses my shoulder, a brief touch. "We'll greet them together."
"I know."
The guests begin arriving mid-afternoon. Business partners from the launch, local families, people I recognize from two years of living on the edges of Leon's world. I stand beside him as he greets them, and for the first time, I see people looking at us as a unit. As a couple.
Signora Benedetti arrives with her husband and crosses directly to me.
"Signora Rosciano." She takes my hand warmly. "I've heard the most ridiculous rumors, and I want you to know that I don't believe a word of them. Anyone who's seen you and your husband together knows the truth."
"Thank you," I manage. "That means more than you know."
"Some people have nothing better to do than gossip. It reflects on them, not on you."
She moves on, and I feel something loosen in my chest. Not everyone believes the lies. Not everyone has turned against me.
But I can feel Vera watching from across the room, and I know the battle isn't over.
***
The reception flows around me for the next hour. I talk to guests, accept congratulations on the baby from people who either haven't heard the rumors or don't care about them, and try to remember how to breathe normally.
Leon stays close, but not oppressively so. He's greeting people, managing conversations, being the Don his position requires him to be. When he touches my back in passing or catches my eye across the room, I feel steadied.
I've positioned myself near the doorway that connects the reception room to the main hall, where I can see most of the gathering while keeping the entrance in view. I have just finished speaking to another guest when Tommaso appears at Leon's elbow.
I watch as Tommaso speaks quietly to Leon, gesturing toward the hall. An older man is visible just past the doorway, white-haired and slightly stooped, one of the regional partners who helped with the launch. He must have arrived late.
Leon catches my eye and tilts his head slightly toward the hall, a question. I nod. The guest is leaning heavily on his cane, and Tommaso has brought a chair into the hall. I can see the doorway from where I'm standing.
He steps into the hall with Tommaso, maybe fifteen feet away. I can still see his shoulder, hear the murmur of voices as he greets the elderly guest.
I turn back to the room, scanning the faces, noting who's talking to whom.
Then I see Nadia making her way toward me.
She's dressed impeccably, of course, in something pale and expensive that makes her look like she stepped out of a painting. Her smile is fixed, social, utterly false.
"Ysabel." She stops in front of me. "You look well. Motherhood must agree with you."
"It's early days yet. But thank you."
"I heard the most interesting thing at the market yesterday." She speaks quietly at first, leaning closer as though sharing a confidence. "Some women were talking about how quickly things can change. How a woman can leave her husband and then suddenly return pregnant, claiming the child is his."
"I'm sorry, was there a question in there?"
"Just an observation." Her smile sharpens. "It must be difficult, having people whisper about you. About your background. About whether you really belong here."
"People have been whispering about me since I married Leon. It hasn't stopped me yet."
"But this is different, isn't it? This isn't just about whether a servant's daughter can be a Donna. This is about whether she's honest about whose child she's carrying."
I feel the blood rise in my face. "The baby is Leon's. Everyone who matters knows that."
"Does everyone? Because from what I hear, there are quite a few questions about the timing."
"Questions that you and Vera planted."
Nadia's expression doesn't change, but something flickers in her eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Of course you don't." I step closer to her, lowering my voice. "I know what you're doing. I know what she's doing. And it's not going to work."
"What I'm doing?" Nadia laughs, a light, social sound that doesn't match the coldness in her eyes. "I'm simply an investor in the Rosciano estate. I have no interest in your marriage or your child."
"Then why are you standing here insulting me?"
"I'm not insulting you. I'm simply pointing out that people talk. And when a woman of your background turns up pregnant after leaving her wealthy husband, well..." She shrugs elegantly. "People draw conclusions."
"The only conclusion to draw is that my husband and I love each other and we're having a baby together."
"How sweet." Her voice rises, carrying past the people nearest us. "The servant's daughter playing house with the Don. Tell me, does it bother you that you'll never really be one of us? That no matter how many babies you have, you'll always be the girl who used to carry the trays?"
Something in me goes very still.
"I'd rather carry trays than spend my days trying to take another woman's place," I say. "You weren't his choice then. You aren't his choice now."
Nadia's face contorts, the polished facade cracking for just a moment. And then she raises her hand.
I see it coming before it arrives. The arc of her arm, the open palm aimed at my face. Time seems to slow as I react on instinct, my left hand coming up to catch her wrist before the blow can land.
I pull her hand down and slap her once with my right hand, then release her wrist and step back. The exchange is over almost before the nearest guest has stopped speaking.
The sound echoes through the reception room. Nadia staggers back, her hand flying to her cheek, her eyes wide with shock.
"Don't ever try to touch me again." My voice carries into the silence. "Yes, I'm a servant's daughter. These hands know honest work. I'm worth ten of a woman who thinks breeding entitles her to someone else's husband."
The room is frozen. Every face is turned toward us. Vera is standing near the window, her expression unreadable. Nadia is still holding her cheek, staring at me like she's never seen me before.
And then I hear footsteps behind me, quick and purposeful.
I turn.
Leon is already crossing the threshold from the hall. The older guest stands behind him beside Tommaso, both looking toward us. Leon's eyes move from Nadia's hand against her cheek to mine, then meet my face.
He has come straight through that open doorway. Nadia's last words are still loud in my ears.
Vera takes a step away from the window and stops when she sees him.
Leon doesn't look away from me.