The Broken Signet Ring

On the night of the Benedetto family's Harvest Festival, my Mafia husband, Salvatore, told me to bring our son, Giuseppe, to the family gathering.

He said his madre had finally accepted us into the Benedetto bloodline.

I was trembling with excitement in our little cottage as I dressed Giuseppe in his finest little suit.

He had carved a single wooden rose by hand, a project he'd saved for over five years.

He said he would present it to his grandmother at the celebration, a plea for her to accept our place in the family.

But the moment we stepped into the stone manor, I saw Carmela.

Salvatore had her pinned against an oak barrel in a deep, searing kiss.

In the moonlight, her hand was undoing his tie.

In front of everyone, Salvatore smiled and gently pushed her away. He walked toward the family members gathered in a semicircle and raised a crystal glass.

"Tonight, in addition to celebrating the harvest, I have an important announcement."

"I would like to introduce you all to the woman I have married in the eyes of God and the Church."

"Miss Carmela Torrino."

Before I could even process his words, Giuseppe tore his hand from mine and rushed forward.

"Papa, what are you saying?"

"Isn't my mother your wife?"

It was only then that I understood. The man I called my husband had another wife.

Everyone in the manor turned to stare at us. Their eyes were like daggers.

Salvatore's face went rigid. He pulled an ivory pipe from his belt and struck Giuseppe hard across the temple.

"You bastard! How dare you spout such nonsense in front of the family!"

"Let me tell you something, boy."

"I am not your papa."

"And she is not my wife. Your mother is a shameless whore!"

"You are nothing."

I saw the blood trickling from Giuseppe's temple. To prove my claim, I shakily removed the ring from my finger.

It was the Benedetto family signet ring, the one Salvatore himself had placed on my hand eight years ago.

"Then how do you explain this family ring?"

The manor erupted in jeers and laughter.

Carmela sauntered over, her heels clicking on the stone. She snatched the ring from my hand and held it up to the moonlight.

"This is hilarious!"

"This piece of trash is nothing but worthless iron painted to look like bronze."

She snapped the ring in two in front of everyone.

The metal broke with a sharp snap.

"A real Benedetto signet ring looks like this."

Carmela raised her left hand. On her ring finger, a solid gold family crest gleamed in the candlelight.

I stared at the metal shards in my palm, then at Salvatore on the steps.

I prayed he would give me an explanation.

But his eyes were locked on Carmela. He kissed her right there, in front of the entire family.

Claiming her publicly, marking his territory.

He didn't even spare me a single glance of pity.

I knew then that Salvatore had betrayed me completely.

I scrambled up the stone steps in a frenzy and tore them apart.

For eight years, I had waited in that cottage.

Waited for his madre's approval. Waited to be welcomed into this noble bloodline.

And in his eyes, I was nothing more than a filthy homewrecker.

Even the family ring was a fake.

"Don't touch me with your filthy hands."

"A wild girl who crawled out of the sewers dares to covet the Benedetto bloodline."

Salvatore's slap sent a ringing through my ears.

He took a silk handkerchief from Carmela and wiped the skin I had touched as if cleansing himself of filth.

A soul-crushing humiliation washed over me.

The men in black suits began to whisper amongst themselves.

They called Giuseppe a bastard and called me a cheap whore.

"Salvatore, what is the meaning of this fake ring?"

Before he could speak, Carmela leaned in close to me, her red lips parting.

"You want the truth?"

"It's simple. Salvatore paid a blacksmith to forge a cheap copy for you."

"You couldn't even see through such a simple trick. You really are a fool."

My head snapped up to look past Carmela—at the man who had once sworn he loved me more than life itself.

The hand clutching the metal shards wouldn't stop shaking.

"Now that the truth is out, take your bastard and disappear," Salvatore's voice was as cold as the Sicilian winds in winter.

He wrapped his arm around Carmela's slender waist.

"Let's go, my love. Let's not waste any more time on this trash."

Giuseppe dragged himself forward and grabbed the tail of Salvatore's black coat.

"Papa, why would you do this?"

"You promised you would marry mother..."

"What gives you the right to call me papa?"

Salvatore drove his foot into Giuseppe's chest.

The boy slammed into the stone steps, his head cracking against the edge, drawing more blood.

The velvet box he'd been clutching rolled to the ground.

Carmela, in her sharp, stiletto heels, stepped on the box and ground it under her foot.

The wooden rose splintered.

Ignoring the pain, Giuseppe crawled toward it, trying to protect his gift.

Carmela lifted her other foot, her heel grinding viciously into the back of his hand.

Blood gushed from the wound.

Giuseppe's face went pale with pain, but he kept pleading.

"Miss Torrino, please... don't break it."

"I spent three whole months carving it... It's for my grandmother."

Seeing Carmela torture my child, I snatched a heavy silver candelabrum from a table and brought it down on her head.