I sat in the living room of the Moretti estate, the house that had never quite felt like mine despite seven years of sleeping in its master bedroom. Outside, the wrought-iron gate was manned by two of Dante's soldiers who reported every car that entered and exited the property. The chandelier above me cost more than my mother's entire house. The leather of the couch was Italian, hand-stitched, chosen by Dante's mother before she died.
I felt an eerie calm wash over me, almost unnatural. As I stroked my belly, I clicked 'accept.'
……
Immediately, a message appeared:
'Did you get the bank statement?'
Ignoring it, I went straight to her profile. The earliest post was from two years ago, on April 21. In the photo, she leaned gently on a man's shoulder, her hand resting on him, showcasing a massive diamond ring. Not costume jewelry. The real thing. The kind of stone that only Family money could buy.
The caption read:
'Thank you for the birthday gift, love!'
Although only the man's back was visible, I recognized him instantly.