Even after I got pregnant, my Mafia husband still gave me just four dollars a day for food.
The crime family’s ridiculously beautiful accountant refused to give me more. “You’re only three months along, and you’ve already gained five pounds. You married into the Moretti family. Looking presentable is part of the job. Do you want the other families calling you a cow? From now on, it’s salad for lunch. No dressing.”
I was starving, so I stole ten dollars from Sebastian Moretti and bought a burrito and two tacos.
I hadn’t even made it home when I was stopped at the estate gates. They said my unauthorized transaction had triggered an alert on the family accounts. Soldiers cuffed me and took me to the study, where Sebastian stood facing me, his expression cold.
“I give you everything you ask for, and it’s still not enough? Now you’re stealing from me?”
I finally snapped. “Ten dollars! You put me in handcuffs over ten dollars! What choice have you left me?”
Sebastian frowned. “Ten dollars? I’m talking about ten million!”
Before I could make sense of that, the family accountant sent him another message with a receipt from Van Cleef & Arpels attached.
Camilla: [Mr. Moretti, apparently stealing from you wasn’t enough. Ms. Hayes is asking me for more money again. She wants $176,000 for a single shopping trip!]
…
Sebastian’s brow furrowed. I couldn’t see his phone, but the way he looked at me changed as he read the message. He was a feared Don in New York’s underworld, and that look usually meant someone was in trouble.
“For a few things from a store?” he hissed. “You’d steal money for that?”
I could hardly believe him. “You won’t give me any money. What am I supposed to do? Starve to death to uphold some ridiculous moral standard?”
He looked genuinely baffled. “Nothing’s ever enough for you, is it?”
My hands curled into fists, and tears filled my eyes. A little Mexican food meant I was impossible to satisfy?
Sebastian tapped his phone. A moment later, I heard the familiar chime confirming a bank transfer.
He stood. “I’ll cover what you took. But don’t push your luck. I can’t keep doing this.”
“Well, thank you, Mr. Moretti.” My voice dripped with sarcasm. He frowned at my lack of gratitude.
Then he turned to the soldiers beside me. “Take her to the family convent. She can confess to Mother Cecilia.”
He opened the door and left without looking back. The soldiers nodded to me, disappointment in their eyes. “Come with us, ma’am.”
“I’ll go myself.” I walked out, my body rigid.
The Moretti family’s convent stood deep in the mountains, surrounded by towering redwoods and stone walls. For generations, family members who’d disgraced the Moretti name had been sent there to “reflect.” There were no phones and no contact with the outside world.
Most women who’d been there said the silence wasn’t the worst part. It was waiting for their husbands to come for them. I didn’t wait for Sebastian, and he never came.
For seven days, I sat across from Mother Cecilia and confessed what I’d done. I’d taken money that wasn’t mine; even if it was only ten dollars, stealing was stealing. She never judged me, only listened.
Strangely enough, those were the first seven days in months when I’d had enough to eat. A young nun watched me devour a plain homemade roll as though it were a five-star meal. After a long hesitation, she spoke.
“Ma’am… has it been a long time since you had a decent meal?”
My cheeks were stuffed with bread. Had I never eaten well? Of course I had.
When Sebastian and I started dating, the fight over who would lead the family hadn’t drawn him in yet. He seemed like any other man with a little money, and I was an ordinary woman. He’d even learned to cook to win me over.
French, Italian, Japanese—whatever I wanted, he found time to make it. On dates, he took me to restaurants where we could try food from all over the world. That freedom disappeared after he became Don.
My eyes stung, and I wiped them before the tears could fall. Back then, how could I have imagined him looking at me with disgust because pregnancy had made me gain weight? How could I have known I’d end up in a convent, treasuring a homemade roll?
After seven days, the convent arranged for a doctor to examine me. Once I’d been given a clean bill of health, I was finally allowed to leave.
I’d barely returned to Vance Estate when my phone rang. It was Camilla Laurent, the family accountant and the consigliere’s daughter. Everyone trusted her as much as they trusted her father.
“Ms. Hayes, the convent’s health report says you gained three pounds in seven days. You managed to overeat on convent food? Is it really that hard to stop stuffing your face?”
Before I could explain, a notification appeared on my phone. My daily food allowance had changed. Camilla’s voice turned cold.
“Starting today, your food budget is cut in half. It stays that way until you lose those three pounds.”