The Broken Signet Ring

Just then, Salvatore's madre, Rosaria, slowly approached.

She wore a long, black velvet gown and clutched an ivory-handled cane.

She surveyed my son and me as if we were two stray dogs that had wandered into a sanctuary.

"This is the sacred ground of the Benedetto bloodline. What makes filthy mongrels like you think you're worthy of setting foot here?"

Giuseppe picked up the shattered box and trembled as he approached the family matriarch.

"Grandmother, happy festival!"

"This is a wooden rose Giuseppe carved for you."

Rosaria took the box but tossed it into the stone fireplace without a single glance.

The flames instantly devoured the gift he had spent three months creating.

The scent of burning wood and despair filled the air.

"What value could the handiwork of a bastard possibly have? It insults the Benedetto name."

"Exactly. A secret mistress of eight years daring to show her face before the true wife."

"By family law, a whore like this should have been sunk in the Sicilian Sea long ago."

The scornful remarks from the family members pierced Giuseppe like daggers.

He hung his head in anguish, tears splashing onto the stone floor.

On the way here, he had been too excited to sleep.

He'd said he could finally be recognized by his family, finally earn the acknowledgment of his papa and grandmother.

And now? The eight-year dream of belonging to this bloodline that had burned so brightly in his heart was reduced to ash.

"Mother, is it because I've tainted the bloodline?"

"Is it because I'm not worthy that papa has to abandon us?"

I wanted to rush to him, to hold him and tell him it wasn't his fault.

That he was the purest child in the world, and even without this family's approval, he was still his mother's pride.

But Carmela kicked me square in the chest.

My body slammed against a marble pillar. Chianti spilt across my white dress, staining it a deep, blood-red.

Giuseppe cried out and tried to run to me, but he was suddenly seized by a violent coughing fit.

He collapsed onto the cold stone floor, gasping for air, his face turning a deathly shade of blue.

I knew Giuseppe's asthma was flaring up.

Severe, life-threatening asthma. The town doctor had diagnosed it as incurable just a month ago.

I had held him in that shabby clinic and cried until dawn.

I had called Salvatore that night to tell him, but Carmela had answered.

She told me Salvatore was sleeping, completely exhausted after she'd had her way with him in bed.

She even described in lurid detail how they had made love in the bathtub late into the night.

I swallowed every ounce of my humiliation. If it weren't for Giuseppe's desperate longing for a papa's love, I would have taken him far away long ago.

I fought wildly against the men holding me, trying to get to Giuseppe.

Before I could reach him, before I could pull the emergency medicine from my pocket, Carmela's bodyguards pinned me down again.

"Let me go! Let me save my son!"

"Giuseppe is having an asthma attack! He'll suffocate and die without his injection!"

But every pair of eyes in the manor was cold as ice.

They thought I was putting on a clumsy ploy for pity.

Carmela strode over in her stilettos and slapped me across the face, her sharp nails scratching my skin.

"You thought you could get away with striking the lady of the house? Where's all that fight now?"

"Why aren't you resisting? You bitch!"

Salvatore picked up a crystal glass and threw the liquor in my face.

The alcohol stung my wounds, burning like fire.

"Lucia, are you done with your little show? I told you to leave. You forced my hand, made me humiliate you in public."

"Do you think Carmela would have laid a hand on you if you hadn't attacked her first?"

"All you're good for is embarrassing me in front of my family."

Seeing this cruelty, Giuseppe's desperation worsened, his breathing growing more and more labored.

His airways were spasming. My soul was being torn apart.

"You and your son will kneel and beg Carmela's forgiveness, as is our family's custom!"

Giuseppe's eyes were rolling back in his head from lack of oxygen, and still, all Salvatore cared about was defending his so-called wife.

"Salvatore, Giuseppe is really dying! Tell them to let me go!"

"Hah. What perfect timing. You're fine one minute, but the moment you're asked to apologize, you have an attack."

I fought with my last ounce of strength, but before my hand could even touch Giuseppe, Carmela kicked me down again.

This time, her stiletto heel stomped down hard on my right arm.

I heard the sickening crack of bone, and the agony nearly made me black out.

At that moment, Giuseppe stopped struggling. His eyes began to glaze over, the light of his life slowly fading.

He looked at me and, with his final breath, his lips parted.

"Mother... please take care of yourself..."

"I don't think... I can be with you anymore..."

The instant he closed his eyes, the bodyguards dragged me up by my hair.

They slammed my head against the stone floor, again and again, until my face was a bloody mess.

They forced me to bow before Carmela in submission, each blow splitting my skin.

After three agonizing impacts, they weren't finished. Two guards hoisted me up by my arms.

In accordance with Sicily's most humiliating punishment, they were going to make me crawl between Carmela's open legs.

"As you crawl through, remember to kiss my toes," she purred.

"Let everyone see what a filthy animal looks like."

Carmela watched the spectacle as the men of the family began to hoot with laughter.

Salvatore stood on the steps in the distance, watching the bloody ritual of submission with a blank expression.

There was no pity in his eyes. Only cold, distant indifference.