Chapter 6 - MY MOTHER-IN-LAW'S PLAN
The medical review found six notes I had never seen.
Anxiety.
Emotional volatility.
Suspiciousness regarding husband's professional absences.
Resistance to family support.
None had been written by my obstetrician.
They'd been added by Dr. Mercer after “family consultations.”
With whom?
Beatrice.
I was furious.
Roman became something colder.
He went to Hawthorne House—Beatrice's residence—without me.
I found out afterward.
For once, I was grateful.
Because if I'd been there, I might have forgotten I was eight months pregnant and thrown something heavy.
Roman returned four hours later.
“What happened?”
“She admitted it.”
“All of it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He sat across from me.
“My father never trusted her with succession.”
“I gathered that.”
“When he died, she spent years trying to break the trust.”
“Why?”
“She believes the family dies if the next generation can walk away.”
“Our daughter isn't even born.”
“I know.”
“She doesn't know if Isabel likes music or math or horses or girls or boys or solitude or cities.”
“I know.”
“She doesn't know anything about her.”
“I know.”
“Then how can she already owe your family her life?”
Roman's eyes filled.
“She doesn't.”
I stared.
That was the first time he'd said it without qualification.
No commission.
No responsibility.
No tradition.
“She doesn't.”
I looked away.
Roman continued.
“I removed my mother from every Bellandi board this morning.”
I turned back.
“What?”
“Her voting proxies are suspended pending review. She no longer has access to our family office.”
“Can you do that?”
“I just did.”
“She'll fight you.”
“Yes.”
“Your captains?”
“I don't have captains, Cass.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Your aggressively loyal logistics executives, then.”
That almost made him smile.
“Half are furious.”
“And the other half?”
“Waiting to see who wins.”
“At least they're honest.”
Roman nodded.
Then his expression changed.
“I also ended things with Alessia.”
I laughed.
“Roman.”
“I know.”
“No, you clearly don't.”
“What?”
“You don't get to present ending your affair as a sacrifice.”
His face reddened.
“I wasn't.”
“It sounded like one.”
“Then I said it wrong.”
“Yes.”
He took the correction.
That was new.
“I ended it because continuing it would be cruel to both of you.”
“Still wrong.”
He frowned.
I waited.
Then understanding arrived.
“I ended it because I should never have started it.”
“Better.”
“Cass.”
“What?”
“Is there any version of this where we stay married?”
The question hurt.
Because I still loved him.
That was the humiliating part nobody tells you about betrayal.
Love doesn't receive evidence and disappear on schedule.
“I don't know.”
Roman nodded.
“Okay.”
“You're not going to argue?”
“No.”
“Threaten to fight for me?”
“I'll fight for the right things.”
“What does that mean?”
“Our daughter. Your safety. Fixing what I've broken where I can.”
“And us?”
His eyes met mine.
“You aren't territory.”
Silence.
“I don't get to fight you into staying.”
That was the first thing he'd said since Thanksgiving that made me want to cry.
So naturally, I became angry.
“Leave.”
He stood.
At the door he stopped.
“Cass?”
“What?”
“I loved Alessia.”
Pain stabbed through me.
He continued before I could answer.
“And I love you.”
I laughed bitterly.
“How generous.”
“No.”
His voice shook.
“That's the ugliest truth I have. I'm telling you because if I only admit the parts that help me keep you, I'm still lying.”
I stared at him.
Then Roman left.
I cried after the door closed.
Not because he'd chosen Alessia.
Not because he'd chosen me.
Because for nine years I'd thought love was the one thing in our marriage nobody had negotiated.
Apparently even love could become divided.
May you like
The question was whether trust could ever become whole again.
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