Episode 1

In Italy, the leader of the Cosa Nostra and his wife lay in a massive bed. The man couldn’t stop kissing her as they laughed at their own madness.

“Darling, be careful with my belly,” she warned, laughing uncontrollably, while he only frowned.

“I’m going to get jealous. You don’t love me anymore…” She hugged and kissed him; they were two beings madly in love, even though they had been through so much to be together.

The man’s phone rang that night, and immediately, her expression tightened. She hated every time he left because she never knew if he would return. The woman loved him more than anything.

“I have to go, my love, but I swear I’ll be back quickly,” he announced, kissing her forehead before rushing out.

Tiziano Marconetti left the mansion. His phone wouldn’t stop ringing: it was Eleonora Alfieri, who had been calling him incessantly since they crossed paths at one of his nightclubs. What should have been a slip-up turned into blackmail to force him to be with her; every time she wanted to see him, he ran out of fear that she would destroy his marriage. He knew his wife, Giuliana, all too well: she would never forgive a betrayal.

Tiziano’s car sped through the streets of Italy. He needed to put Eleonora in her place: his wife needed him more than ever, and he couldn’t be bothered with these stupid calls. As he drove, he took out his phone, but the woman didn’t answer. He called again, but there was no response.

The car didn’t stop; he was only thinking of fixing things so he could return to his pregnant wife, unaware that leaving her alone would cost him dearly.

Tiziano’s mistress harassed him constantly. One day, she even showed up at the mansion to confront him for not visiting her. The man didn’t even know why he hadn’t put a bullet in her yet; because of this, the woman thought he loved her. That time she entered the mansion, Giuliana found them arguing, and he introduced her as a cousin he hadn’t seen in a long time. In fact, she stayed with them for two days, and one of those nights, he sneaked away to be with her in the next room.

This made it easy for the woman to enter the house that night. The guards let her pass because it had become customary for her to show up at all hours, and his wife no longer suspected anything. The woman went up to the bedroom and found Giuliana reading in bed. She held a storybook in one hand and narrated it joyfully while rubbing her belly with the other.

“Giuliana, dear, how are you?” Eleonora greeted as she entered the bedroom, smiling smugly.

“What are you doing here, Eleonora? At this hour? Did something happen? My husband isn’t here,” she replied innocently, unaware of the vile woman’s intentions.

“I know. He asked me to come keep you company because he thought he’d be late. Look, I brought this for you; the maid prepared it,” she handed her a juice she had brought from outside, poured into a glass.

“Thank you, but it’s not necessary. You’re very kind,” Giuliana refused, but Eleonora insisted so much that she had no choice but to accept. She drank it calmly, and they chatted for a while until Giuliana grew sleepy and fell asleep.

Eleonora left the mansion unseen and quickly returned to her apartment, though Tiziano had just arrived to find it empty.

Tiziano cursed and threw things to the ground.

“It’s always the same with this woman! When I see her, I’m going to kill her,” he shouted, filled with rage. His chest heaved, and he clenched his fists tightly, breathing roughly.

He took out his phone and called again. This time, she answered briefly to say she had gone out for some pills because she felt unwell and wouldn’t be long.

A few minutes later, Tiziano was desperate. When he saw her, he grabbed her by the arms and shook her.

“What the hell are you doing? How dare you call me over and then leave? You’re insane!” He pushed her, throwing her onto a sofa. “This is the last time you call me, you wretched woman, because I swear I’ll kill you!” He pulled his gun from his pants and aimed it at her forehead. The woman was overly excited, but even if that bullet escaped, she would be happy because she would finally achieve what she wanted: to get rid of two obstacles.

While all this was happening, Giuliana slept. What she had drunk contained a substance that would render her unconscious. Two hours after falling asleep, she woke up in severe pain; she clutched her stomach and screamed, tears streaming down her face. It was unbearable.

She screamed for someone. She called for Eleonora, for Tiziano, but finally, one of the maids heard her and called the men to take her to the clinic.

The men called Tiziano on the way to the clinic. The Italian was desperate; just hearing that his wife was unwell and not being there filled him with anger.

The man drove like a madman, not waiting for anyone. He only wanted her to be okay. He screamed that this would be the last time, that he would never see that woman again if anything happened to his wife.

Meanwhile, at the clinic, a woman entered with a heavy belly and a pale face. The contractions came like violent waves, stealing her breath.

Doctors ran, shouted, pushed metal carts, and prepared needles. But nothing was enough. The hemorrhage spread like a silent, black river.

The doctor told her to push, but she already felt torn apart from the inside; the pain was unbearable, and her chest hurt with every breath. The effort was immense, and yet, nothing could be done. The mother died before hearing her daughter’s first cry.

Tiziano arrived shortly after, desperate. He stood behind the glass and watched as the heart of the woman he loved faded away, while the baby’s cry filled the operating room like a cruel insult. He cursed under his breath for not being there, and he cursed the baby for surviving and killing the love of his life.

“We’re sorry, sir. We don’t know what happened; everything was fine, and suddenly, she arrived like this,” the doctor monitoring Giuliana had no medical explanation for what occurred; the tests revealed nothing.

“You’re a damned useless fool! I’ll kill you! Because you saved her and not my wife! It was my wife, not that damned spawn!” Filled with fury, he entered to embrace his wife’s lifeless body. He held her tightly against him as tears streamed down his face; he held her firmly, but nothing woke her. He kissed her, even though she was cold and lifeless. That day, at least a part of him died with her.

From that fateful night onward, Ginevra was not a daughter: she was a cruel reminder of death, the silent culprit of the tragedy that shattered her father. To him, every beat of the girl’s heart was an echo of his wife’s last breath.

That night, he returned home without the girl. The men brought her the next day. She was cared for by servants; he didn’t care if she ate or not. He dreamed that his wife had been saved and the “spawn,” as he called his daughter, had died.

He focused on his business and vented his pain by sleeping with Eleonora. This led to her becoming pregnant, and a year after his wife’s death, his new daughter was born. He had to bring Eleonora to live with him and make her his wife. This was only the beginning of hell for little Ginevra; at least he respected the name her mother had wanted for her.

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