Chapter 2

The world narrowed to two things: the constant, gnawing hunger in my belly and the dread of Dante' s nightly visits. For weeks, I felt sick. My body, already thin from meager rations, felt weaker than ever.

One morning, while cleaning the upstairs bathroom, a wave of nausea hit me so hard I had to grip the sink to stay upright. I stared at my reflection. My face was pale, my eyes hollow.

But there was something else. A change. A terrifying, impossible thought took root in my mind.

I stole a pregnancy test from a box meant for the maids. I waited in the cramped bathroom stall, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Two lines.

The plastic stick fell from my trembling hand and clattered on the tile floor.

Pregnant.

I was pregnant with the child of the man who had destroyed my family. A Moretti heir, conceived in hate, growing inside the last Costello. The irony was a bitter poison in my throat.

For seven months, I managed to hide it. My cleaner' s uniform was baggy, and no one paid enough attention to a ghost to notice the slow swell of my stomach. A tiny, fragile hope began to grow with the child inside me. Maybe this baby... maybe it could change things. Maybe it was a reason to live.

I started knitting. In the stolen moments of the night, after Dante left me, I would take out the cheap yarn and needles I' d found. I knitted a pair of tiny, soft booties. A small, secret act of love in a world of hate.

Then came the day of the horse.

Sofia Romano, Dante' s fiancée, swept into the mansion in a cloud of expensive perfume and crocodile tears. She was beautiful, glamorous, the daughter of an allied Don. She was everything I used to be.

"Dante, my darling," she wailed, collapsing into his arms in the main hall. "My champion, Stardust, he broke his leg. The vet had to put him down. My heart is shattered!"

Dante held her, murmuring comforts I had never heard from him. His eyes, however, drifted across the room and found me, standing frozen with a dust rag in my hand. A cold, cruel idea began to form in their depths.

He looked from Sofia's tear-streaked face to my hidden belly.

"Don't worry, my love," he said to her, but his gaze was locked on me. "I'll make it better. I'll get rid of something that is a disgrace, to appease your sorrow."

That night, he didn't come to my room for his usual torment.

He came with a small bottle of pills in his hand.