Chapter 29
Bianca Ferrucci
What was Tiziano thinking, leaving me here? Saying goodbye for what?
I stood there for quite a while, staring at my family. It made no sense, but now I was here, in the place where I had spent a large part of my life being invisible.
“How are things at the Don’s house?” Giulia asked curiously.
I took a deep breath, resisting the urge to answer her question with sarcasm.
“Fine. I can say I live better there than I ever did here,” I murmured, looking at the floor.
“Ungrateful girl,” my mother snapped, exhaling sharply as though the idea of me having something good were a personal insult.
“Bianca, you need to loosen up more. The Don seems to treat you well. You should include your family in events and dinners,” my father commented.
“I’ll do my best, Dad,” I replied, trying to sound polite.
“‘I’ll do my best, Dad,’” my mother repeated mockingly. “This girl won’t do anything. Can’t you hear the way she talks, as if we were the worst people in the world?”
I wanted to answer. I wanted to tell her she wasn’t wrong, that they had never been the best people, at least not to me. But I stayed quiet because that would only fuel the scene.
“I’ve had enough of this whole circus,” she continued, standing abruptly. “Go away with your husband. Even the maid matters more than your own family. You’ve never invited us to a single dinner, and now you’re taking Rosa with you!”
She stormed out of the room, slamming the office door hard behind her, while my father followed in silence, as always.
“You should apologize. You’re so ungrateful. You stole the man I wanted, and now you’re turning your back on your family too,” Giulia said contemptuously before heading upstairs and leaving me alone.
I stood there, trying to process everything. Apologize? For what? I didn’t owe anyone anything. Not her, who had always humiliated me, not my mother, who had never looked at me with affection, and not my father, who had never protected me.
But for some reason, I thought I should say goodbye properly. Maybe it was the idea of showing them that despite everything, I was doing well. I lived well in that house, and sometimes, as strange as it was, I felt as though I had actually achieved something.
That was it. They needed to see that despite everything, I was winning. I was the wife of the most powerful man in Italy, and they would have to swallow that.
I approached the office door. I could still hear my mother, her voice filled with anger. I pressed my ear against the wood to see whether it was a good time to knock.
“I want to see what he does to her when he finds out what hole she crawled out of,” she said in her shrill voice, sounding almost desperate.
“Shut up, Lucia. If he finds out, he’ll destroy all of us,” my father replied quietly, as though afraid someone else might hear.
What were they talking about? What discovery could possibly be so terrible that it would put all our lives at risk?
“That’s the only reason she gets to live like a queen in that house. She doesn’t deserve it, Ant?nio,” my mother continued, spitting the words with venom. “Those damn Bellinis,” my mother hissed, the name filled with hatred.
Bellini. The last name that had been in the notebook I found. But what did it have to do with our family?
“Enough, Lucia. Don’t say that name again,” my father pleaded. There was terror in his words.
I stepped away from the door, my body trembling. My head was spinning, filled with unanswered questions. If Tiziano found out… Found out what, exactly?
I closed my eyes, trying to remain calm. I wanted to walk in and demand to know what they were talking about, to understand all of this, but at the same time, I knew they would never tell me something that could make Tiziano destroy our family.
I left the house with my entire body trembling, as though the ground could collapse beneath me at any moment. I got into the car, closing the door harder than I intended, and curled into the seat.
“Let’s go,” I asked Tiziano.
He turned his head toward me, his blue eyes studying me carefully as though trying to decipher something beyond my words.
“Is everything all right?” The question came with the calmness he always pretended to have, but I knew he never asked anything without a reason.
I took a deep breath, forcing a smile so I wouldn’t raise more suspicion.
“Yes. Thank you for today. I loved dinner.” The words came out quickly, almost rehearsed.
He continued staring at me for several seconds before finally nodding and ordering the driver to leave.
A few days later…
I was sitting in the garden, watching Rosa pick fruit straight from the trees and fill a wicker basket.
“This place is truly blessed,” she said with every piece of fruit she placed in the basket, a satisfied smile on her face.
“I’m glad you like it here, Rosa.”
“My entire job is to stay by your side. How could I not like it?” she replied lightly, almost joking. “It’s nothing like your parents’ house, where I worked like a slave.” She sat beside me, letting out a sigh filled with relief.
Suddenly, in the distance, I saw Enzo approaching along the path, his steps quick and filled with irritation. It was only when he came closer that I realized he was injured.
“Those bastards are too clever and too damn bold!” he shouted, his face red with rage.
Seconds later, Carlo appeared between the plants, wearing his usual serious expression.
“Calm down, Enzo. Let’s go inside. I need to check those injuries.”
“I don’t want calm, Carlo! I want blood!” Enzo shot back, his voice overflowing with fury.
Rosa’s eyes widened beside me, clearly frightened. I knew that even though she understood what my husband did and the kind of life surrounding him, she still wasn’t used to seeing up close what it meant to live in this world.
“An enemy?” Rosa whispered to me, barely moving her lips.
“I don’t know,” I replied, already standing and brushing the sand from the skirt of my dress.
I followed them carefully, trying not to draw attention.
“Is he insane?” Enzo snapped as soon as he crossed the doorway into the house. “Does he think he can challenge the mafia with that cartel crew? Tiziano is going to be furious. That brat is going too far!”
“What happened?” Tiziano’s voice cut through the air, deep and filled with authority as he stepped out of the office.
“Our export route in Bari was attacked by the La Sombra Cartel,” Enzo replied, still irritated as he wiped the blood running from a cut above his eyebrow.
“Why the hell would they come after us?” Tiziano asked, frowning.
“Bellini’s youngest son.”
The name Bellini made my entire body go cold. The room around me seemed to spin, and I had to grip the table to keep from falling.
“The nerve.” Tiziano laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “I can’t wait to get my hands on that bastard.”
“Ma’am?” Rosa whispered beside me, concerned.
“I’m fine, Rosa,” I murmured, trying to compose myself, but even I didn’t believe my own voice.
Tiziano shifted his gaze from Enzo to me, his blue eyes analyzing every detail of my face. He approached, slightly gentler than usual.
“Are you nauseous?” he asked directly.
“No.”
“Dizzy?” he insisted.
“I’m not pregnant,” I replied in a whisper, looking away while he bit his lip, clearly disappointed. That was all he seemed to think about these past few days.
Tiziano drummed his fingers against the table thoughtfully before letting out a sigh.
“Go upstairs, Bianca. Get some rest.”
I climbed the stairs with Rosa following closely behind me. As soon as I entered the bedroom, I threw myself onto the bed.
“Rosa, I should already be pregnant,” I murmured, staring at the ceiling.
“Easy, sweetheart. The more anxious you become, the longer it may take,” she said, sitting beside me and trying to comfort me.
“My husband wants children,” I said, almost under my breath.
But that wasn’t the only thing tormenting me. The word “Bellini” echoed through my mind. Who were the Bellinis, really? And why was my name connected to theirs in my father’s ledger?