The Don's Nameless Bride

Alessia Moretti heard the news just after dusk, while rain blurred the windows of Bellandi Holdings' private event floor.

Serafina Moretti was back.

For a moment, the velvet box in Alessia's hand felt impossibly heavy. She had brought it as Matteo Bellandi's birthday gift, imagining his surprise and the way he might pull her into his arms when he learned what was inside.

A pregnancy test.

Positive.

Their child.

She had planned the moment for weeks. Matteo had been softer with her lately, tender in ways she had once stopped hoping for. He had spoken about children as if the future belonged to them both. He had held her at night and murmured, "Alessia, I want a baby who laughs like you do."

So she had believed him.

Then Serafina returned, and the fragile future Alessia had built in her heart began to crack before she even reached the party.

Matteo's childhood friends had rented the top floor of Meridian Hall, a members-only club controlled through a Bellandi holding company. The private lounge looked over the financial district through walls of dark glass. Music pulsed beneath the conversation. Champagne cooled in silver buckets. Men connected to the family laughed too loudly, secure in the knowledge that Bellandi security would keep consequences outside.

Alessia stepped inside with the gift pressed against her chest and stopped cold.

Serafina stood near the center of the room, soaked from the rain, her pale dress clinging to her. A crystal glass lay broken near her feet. Dario Shaw, one of Matteo's closest friends, leaned back in an armchair and lifted one polished shoe toward her.

"Clean it," Dario said with a lazy smile. "Use your mouth, Serafina. Do it well and I'll pay you enough to remember what luxury feels like."

Several men laughed.

Serafina's face had gone white, but her chin stayed lifted. Tears glittered in her eyes as she looked toward Matteo.

Matteo stood by the bar with a glass in his hand.

He said nothing.

His face was calm, too calm, but Alessia knew him well enough to see the tension in his jaw.

Three years earlier, when Alessia had first entered the Moretti family, men like Dario had entertained themselves by humiliating her. They had mocked her clothes, her accent, and her lack of polish to amuse Serafina, the beloved daughter the family had once protected.

Back then, Matteo had looked bored.

"Alessia," Matteo said when he finally noticed her.

He crossed the room, slid an arm around her waist, and pulled her close with practiced intimacy. To everyone else, it looked possessive. Loving, even.

Only Alessia felt how tightly his fingers dug into her side.

"You came," he said.

"It's your birthday. Of course I came."

His gaze flicked to the velvet box, then away, as if he could not spare attention for anything that was not Serafina.

Everyone knew why Matteo had married Alessia. Serafina had once been exposed as a false Moretti heiress. She had left Matteo in the middle of the scandal, and he had married Alessia within weeks to preserve the arrangement between the two families.

Alessia became the substitute wife, the woman everyone said would be discarded the instant Serafina came back.

For six months, Matteo had made her forget those whispers. He had announced that she was the only woman in his life, replaced Serafina's cherry trees with Alessia's favorite roses, and held her hand in public. He had made promises in the dark that sounded painfully real.

Now Serafina stood a few steps away, and Matteo's whole body seemed pulled toward her.

Dario rose and moved closer to Serafina. "Still acting like a princess? Matteo has a wife now. Stop pretending you're above the rest of us."

Serafina backed away. "Don't touch me."

Dario grabbed her wrist and dragged her onto his lap. "Don't be ungrateful. I'm being nicer than most men would be."

"Let go!"

His smile sharpened as he shoved her down onto the sofa. The room erupted in drunken cheers.

Alessia moved before she thought.

"Dario, stop it!"

At the same instant, Matteo surged past her.

Alessia reached for his sleeve. He shook her off without looking back. The motion was sharp and careless. She lost her footing, struck the edge of a marble table, and hit the floor.

Pain burst through her lower back and spread into her abdomen.

Across the room, Matteo hauled Dario away from Serafina and slammed him against the wall. His fist struck Dario's face.

"You don't put your hands on her," Matteo said. "Serafina is mine to protect. Even if I hate her, she is still not yours."

The room went silent.

Alessia stared at him from the floor.

Serafina is mine.

The words settled over her like cold water. Matteo had a wife. He had a child growing inside that wife, though he did not know it yet. Still, in front of everyone, he had claimed Serafina.

A cramp tore through Alessia. She pressed one hand to her stomach and felt dampness beneath her clothes.

"Matteo," she whispered.

He did not hear her.

"Matteo, my stomach hurts. Please take me to the hospital."

Matteo had already taken off his jacket and wrapped it around Serafina's shoulders.

"Matteo, get me out of here," Serafina whispered. "I can't stay in this room."

"I'm here," he said. "No one will hurt you again."

He lifted Serafina into his arms and walked toward the door.

Alessia lay on the floor, cold sweat soaking her back, watching her husband carry another woman away. Over Matteo's shoulder, Serafina looked down at her. The corner of her mouth curved faintly.

The people in the lounge began whispering.

"So Serafina really is the one he never got over."

"Alessia never had a chance. She was only filling the empty space."

A young server finally crouched beside her. "Mrs. Bellandi, can you stand?"

"Hospital," Alessia breathed. "Please. My baby..."

The room tilted.

When she opened her eyes again, she was in a private clinic used by the Bellandi family. Rain tapped against the window while a nurse adjusted her IV.

"The baby is safe," the nurse said. "But the pregnancy is unstable. You need rest. No stress. No heavy movement."

Alessia nodded, tears sliding into her hair.

For a few minutes, she let herself believe Matteo would be shocked when he found out. He would regret leaving her there. He would remember the nights he had spoken about their future.

She called him.

When he answered, his voice was impatient. "I'm not coming back to Bellandi Estate tonight. Don't wait up."

"Matteo, I..."

Before she could finish, Serafina's voice came through the line.

"Matteo, the zipper is stuck in my hair. Can you help me?"

There was a pause.

"Coming."

The call ended.

By morning, the doctor allowed Alessia to leave. Halfway back to Bellandi Estate, her phone buzzed with a post from Serafina.

*You promised to hold my hand and never let go. Not for a night. For a lifetime.*

Below the words was a photograph of Serafina beneath golden lights, her hand clasped with Matteo's. Around his wrist was a bracelet made of prayer beads.

Alessia recognized it instantly. She had prayed over those beads for days when Matteo was ill. He had once promised he would never leave her behind.

Now the bracelet was on his wrist while his hand held Serafina's.

Alessia closed her eyes, but the image stayed.

For the first time, she understood exactly where she stood in Matteo Bellandi's heart.

Nowhere.