The Mafia Heir Who Buried His Marriage

1. Laney

LANEY

The palazzo always felt bigger when it was full of people who belonged.

I slipped through the main entrance with Massimo at my side, the weight of his family's history pressing down on me before we even cleared the doorway.

The family luncheon was already underway.

Spring light filtered through the tall windows, warming stone that had stood since before my country existed.

The air smelled faintly of lilies and expensive cologne.

Guests moved in clusters, their voices echoing off the vaulted ceiling, a low hum of conversation that made my chest feel tight.

I smoothed the front of my dress, a nervous habit I couldn't shake. My pulse kicked up.

Massimo's hand touched the small of my back, steering me forward. His palm was warm through the thin fabric, solid and familiar. Then he was gone, absorbed into the first knot of people who wanted his attention.

I stood alone near the entrance, watching the current of guests flow around me.

Aurelio sat in the largest chair near the windows, his shoulders bent but his presence still commanding the room even in his frailty.

Everyone approached him first. Neighbors with their carefully respectful smiles, business associates who shook his hand with both of theirs, people whose names I had learned and forgotten, all of them gravitating toward the old man like he was the sun and they were helpless against the pull.

His sister Rosaria stood beside him, her hand on the back of his chair, her sharp eyes tracking every person who approached.

I knew that gesture. It said he is still here, he is still ours, and you will acknowledge that.

God, I hated these events.

Massimo moved easily through the room, shaking hands, leaning in to hear what someone whispered, laughing at a joke I was too far away to catch.

He belonged here in a way I never would, no matter how many years I lived in this country or how fluently I spoke the language.

His younger brother Enzo stood with a group near the fireplace, gesturing with his wine glass, his grin wide and charming.

Vittoria Greco was already seated at the long table in the center of the room, right beside the chair Massimo would take. Of course she was.

My hands felt cold.

Sofia tugged at my hand. "Mamma, can I sit with you?"

"Yes, sweetheart." I squeezed her fingers, grateful for the anchor. At least I had her.

We made our way to the far end of the table where the other children were gathering—Sofia's cousins, a few kids from allied families, all of them chattering and fidgeting in their formal clothes.

Sofia slid into the seat beside a cousin, and I took the chair next to her.

From here I could see everything, but I was removed from it.

Separate. The adults filled the seats near Aurelio and Massimo, their voices rising and falling in a rhythm I recognized but didn't quite speak.

Deals disguised as pleasantries. Alliances dressed up as friendship.

Massimo settled into his chair beside Vittoria, already deep in conversation with the man on his other side.

I caught Massimo's eye across the room. He smiled, a brief acknowledgment, and then someone said his name and he turned away.

Just like that.

Costanza moved to the front of the room, and the conversations quieted immediately.

Massimo's mother had a way of commanding attention without raising her voice, a skill I had never mastered and probably never would.

She was elegant in a way that made me feel like a child playing dress-up.

Her dress was perfectly tailored, her jewelry understated but expensive.

She smiled at the gathered guests, her hands folded in front of her.

"Thank you all for joining us today," she said. Her voice carried effortlessly across the room. "We are honored to share something truly special with you—a glimpse into the roots of our family, a history that stretches back to Rome itself."

I knew what was coming.

"It has taken years of careful work to trace our lineage, to uncover the connections that tie us to this land and to the legacy we carry forward.

" Costanza gestured to the display on the side table, where I could see the carefully organized charts and notes, the photographs of artifacts, the maps I had drawn by hand.

My charts. My notes. My maps. "This is our story, the foundation on which everything we are today was built. "

She didn't say my name. She didn't look at me.

I stared at my hands in my lap, my face hot.

The guests murmured their admiration, leaning forward to get a better look at the work I had spent years piecing together.

Work I had done on my knees in the dirt at the dig, sifting through fragments and cross-referencing them with records in dusty archives in Rome.

Work that had consumed my mornings and my afternoons and most of my thoughts for the last decade.

Work that had my name on exactly none of it.

Sofia whispered something to her cousin, oblivious. I forced myself to breathe evenly.

Costanza continued, her tone warm and proud, like she had personally overseen every detail. "We are so fortunate to have such a rich heritage, one that reminds us who we are and where we come from. It is a privilege to share it with all of you."

The guests applauded politely. Costanza inclined her head graciously, accepting the praise as though it were her due.

Then she turned to Vittoria, her expression softening in a way it never did for me. "Vittoria, dear, how lovely you look today. You must tell me about your father's plans for the new property—I've heard such wonderful things."

Vittoria smiled, all practiced charm and perfect composure. "You're too kind, Costanza. I'd be happy to. Papà is very excited about the acquisition."

"I'm sure he is." Costanza touched Vittoria's shoulder, a gesture of affection I had never received. "You must come by more often. We so enjoy your company."

We. Like it was a collective decision. Like the whole family had agreed on it.

Then her gaze landed on me, and the warmth vanished like someone had flipped a switch. "Laney. I trust Sofia is well-behaved today."

"She always is," I said. My voice came out steady, which felt like a small victory.

"Mm." Costanza's smile didn't reach her eyes. "It's good to see you taking an interest in family gatherings. I know these events can be quite formal."

There it was. Polite. Cutting. Impossible to argue with in a room full of witnesses.

I nodded, because what else could I do? If I objected, I'd sound defensive. If I stayed silent, she won. Either way, she had me.

Costanza moved on to greet another guest, and I was left sitting there with my hands clenched in my lap. Sofia was absorbed in her conversation with her cousin, oblivious to the small cruelties happening just a few feet away. I envied her that.

Vittoria rose from her seat and made her way down to my end of the table. She leaned in close, her voice low and sweet enough to sound like concern. "It must be so hard for you, Laney. Being part of a family like this when you didn't grow up understanding how things work."

I met her eyes. "I manage."

"Oh, I'm sure you do." She tilted her head, her smile never wavering. "But it must be exhausting, always trying to keep up. Massimo is so patient with you—he's really remarkable that way, isn't he? Not every man would be so understanding."

Don't take the bait. "He's a good husband."

"He is." Vittoria's gaze flicked to where Massimo stood with a group of men, his posture relaxed, his laugh genuine. "It's wonderful how he's able to balance everything. The business, the family, his responsibilities. And still make time for... well, for the people who need him."

She made it sound like I was a burden. Like I was one more obligation on his endless list, something he had to manage rather than someone he wanted.

I hated that she could do this to me with nothing but pleasantries.

I wanted to say something sharp, something that would wipe that smug look off her face, but the words stuck.

Massimo was right there. He could hear us if he was paying attention.

He wasn't.

He laughed at something one of the men said, clapping him on the shoulder. He didn't glance my way. Didn't notice Vittoria's smile or the way my hands were shaking in my lap.

I turned my attention back to Sofia, who was showing her cousin a drawing she'd made. I forced myself to focus on her voice, the earnest way she explained every detail of the picture. It was easier than watching Massimo ignore me.

The meal began, servers moving through the room with trays of food that probably cost more than most people made in a month.

I picked at my plate, barely tasting anything.

Conversation flowed around me—business deals I wasn't supposed to understand, family gossip I wasn't part of, plans for events I wouldn't be consulted on.

I was a ghost at my own husband's table. Present but unseen.

Ugh. I was being ridiculous, feeling sorry for myself when I should have been focused on Sofia.

But I couldn't shake the tightness in my chest.

Finally, I saw my chance. Massimo had stepped away from the cluster of men and was pouring himself a glass of wine near the sideboard. I stood, smoothing my dress, and crossed the room to him. My heart was pounding harder than it should have been. It was just a question. A simple request.

"Massimo."

He glanced at me, his expression pleasant but distracted, like I was interrupting something. "Laney. Everything all right?"

"I was hoping—" I hesitated, suddenly feeling ridiculous.

Like a child asking for permission to show off a school project.

"I wanted to ask if you'd come out to the dig this week.

We've uncovered something I think you'd find interesting.

It's a section of wall that might connect to the main structure, and if it does, it would prove the site was occupied continuously from?—"

His hand settled on my shoulder, a brief pat that felt more dismissive than affectionate. "That's great, cara. I'm glad the work is going well."

"It is, but I thought?—"

"Let's talk about it later, all right?" He didn't quite meet my eyes. "I should get back to the guests."

My stomach dropped. "Massimo, it would only take an afternoon. I haven't shown you the site in years, and I really think you'd?—"

"I know, I know." Another pat, his attention already drifting past me to someone across the room. "We'll figure something out. I promise."

We'll figure something out. Not yes. Not even no. Just a vague non-answer that meant he had no intention of coming and didn't want to argue about it in front of his family's guests. I stood there, my hand half-raised like I might reach for him, but he was already walking away. My chest ached.

I turned and nearly collided with Enzo, who raised an eyebrow. "Careful, Laney. You look like you're about to bolt."

"Just needed some air," I said.

He smirked. "You always need air at these things."

I didn't have the energy to argue. I slipped past him and made my way back to the table, where Sofia was finishing her dessert. Vittoria watched me return, her expression unreadable. I didn't give her the satisfaction of looking away first.

The event dragged on for what felt like hours.

More toasts, more laughter, more conversations I wasn't part of.

I smiled when I was supposed to and nodded when someone spoke to me, but inside I felt like I was disappearing.

Like I was buried under the weight of this family and nobody even noticed I was struggling to breathe.

When the guests finally began to leave, I helped Sofia gather her things and walked her to her room.

She was already yawning, tired from the long afternoon.

I kissed her forehead and left her with her nanny.

Massimo was still talking to a business associate near the door, his hand gestures animated, his face bright with interest. I caught his eye, and he gave me that same distracted smile. It didn't reach me.

Later, in our private rooms at the palazzo, I changed out of my dress and into something softer, something that didn't make me feel like I was trying too hard. Massimo came in, loosening his tie, his expression relaxed. The event had gone well. For him, anyway.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my hands folded in my lap. He didn't ask how I was. Didn't ask if the day had been hard. He just started talking about one of the deals he'd discussed, his voice easy and familiar, like everything was fine.

Maybe for him it was.

I realized, sitting there in the quiet of our room, that I was alone.

Not physically—Massimo was right there, close enough to touch.

But in every way that mattered, I was alone.

He had chosen his family over me. Again.

And I didn't know how to tell him that without sounding like I was asking him to choose sides.

Without sounding needy or demanding or like I didn't understand how his world worked.

I understood perfectly. I had made my peace with it years ago, convinced myself it was the price of loving him.

But God, it hurt.

Massimo sat down beside me, his weight shifting the mattress. He kissed the top of my head, an absent gesture that probably meant affection to him but felt like dismissal to me. "You did well today, cara."

I didn't answer. I didn't trust my voice.

He didn't notice. He kept talking, something about Aurelio's health and the business and plans for next month. I heard the words but they didn't land.

I stared at the wall and felt the truth settle over me like a weight I'd been carrying for so long I'd forgotten it was there.

He had chosen them.