Four Parting Gifts, Don Falcone

The flames ate my painting.

Three months of work, three years of proof, turned to ash.

I stood there, watching the orange fire lick the canvas, consuming the image of us holding each other. My heart ached with a dull pain, but I didn't cry.

I knew this was how it would be. This was always Vittorio’s choice.

"Aurelia..." Vittorio said, pausing as he carried Carina past me. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," my voice was so calm it surprised me. "Carina's ankle is more important."

He stared at me, clearly not expecting me to be so quiet.

"By the way, since Carina's back from Europe, she should stay here for a while," I said, turning to face them. "I'll put her in the guest room next to yours. I'll move downstairs."

In Vittorio's arms, Carina lifted her head. A flash of triumph crossed her eyes before it was replaced by gratitude. "Aurelia, you're so kind... I won't stay long. I'll move out as soon as I find a place."

Vittorio stared at me, his expression complicated. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

I turned and walked downstairs. I heard Carina's hushed voice behind me. "Vittorio, I don't think Aurelia is happy..."

"She'll understand," Vittorio's voice sounded tired.

An hour later, I was packing in the small downstairs room when the door opened. Vittorio stood in the doorway, his face a grim mask.

"Enough with the act, Aurelia," he finally said. "If you're jealous, just say it. Stop torturing yourself with this martyr routine."

I kept folding my clothes, not stopping.

"I know you hate sleeping alone," his voice softened, laced with a flicker of guilt. "You don't have to do this. We're still married, Aurelia. This is still your room."

My hands paused.

It was true. For three years, Vittorio had given me the respect a wife deserved. He'd climb into my bed after a drunken night and wake me with kisses full of what felt like love. In those moments, I thought we could last forever.

But the second Carina appeared, I was always second choice.

"I'm sorry about the painting," Vittorio said, stepping closer, reaching to hug me. "I was in a hurry. I wasn't thinking about your feelings."

I sidestepped his embrace.

"I'm not jealous, Vittorio," I said softly. "I just think I need a break. Especially after getting shot. It's time to hand off some of my duties."

Vittorio's face went cold.

"Suit yourself." He turned to leave, then remembered something. "By the way, what were those documents you had me sign this afternoon?"

A small smile touched my lips.

"Just a small gift. For our third anniversary."

Vittorio’s expression softened. He came over and stroked my cheek.

"Bella," he murmured. "I know her being here is hard on you. But you are my wife. A good wife. I won't let you down."

His voice was gentle, but I heard what he really meant.

Carina was temporary. Once he settled his debt to her, he would make it up to me.

Too bad I didn't want any of it anymore.

"I understand," I nodded.

Vittorio let out a breath of relief, kissed my forehead, and left the room.

It was midnight when I was violently dragged out of bed.

Vittorio’s face was a storm cloud, his anger simmering with murder.

"Get upstairs. Now."

He dragged me up the stairs and threw open the door to his bedroom.

On the bed, Carina was flushed, breathing heavily. Her hair was stuck to her sweaty skin, her eyes were hazy, and her body was trembling uncontrollably.

When she saw us, she curled into a ball like a frightened deer.

"Vittorio... I feel so strange... so hot..." her voice was a breathy whisper, laced with a desperate, animal need.

Vittorio turned to me, his eyes blazing. "What did you give her to drink?"

"I didn't give her anything," I answered calmly. "She's the one who wanted to open that bottle of Romanée-Conti. I drank some too. Why am I fine?"

"Because this is your specialty, isn't it?" Vittorio snarled, grabbing my shoulders. "Dirty little tricks. It's how you ended up in my bed in the first place!"

Those words were a knife, straight to my heart.

I remembered that night three years ago. I got intel that someone was going to make a move on Vittorio at a private casino. I couldn't reach my men. I couldn't reach him. No one knew the panic I felt as I raced there, only to find him drugged with an aphrodisiac.

In his desperation, I gave myself to him. I cried when he entered me. I don't know if it was because my dream had come true, or because I was terrified of what would come next.

I never imagined he'd wake up and look at me with so much hate.

Just like now. He always believed I was the one who set it all up. That he was the victim.

"Vittorio, please don't blame her..." Carina said weakly, but her body writhed, a soft moan escaping her lips. She suddenly grabbed a lighter from the nightstand, her hand shaking as she flicked it on.

"I can't take this feeling..." she sobbed, holding the flickering flame to her own skin. "I won't be a burden... I won't let you sacrifice your honor for me..."

The smell of burning skin filled the room. Carina screamed in pain, but her eyes held a twisted look of relief.

"Carina!" Vittorio lunged, snatching the lighter away. He stared at the red, angry mark on her arm, and his face hardened with decision.

"I'll help you."