My Best Friend Stole an Heir, So I Cleared House as the Lawful Wife Chapter 01
My best friend, Vera Bennett, stole from my husband. She slipped into a private clinic dressed as a nurse while Damian Moretti was there for a family-mandated medical exam. Then she stole a private biological sample from him and used it to get pregnant. She did it because Don Vito Moretti, the dying head of the East Coast Moretti family, had made one last declaration before his condition turned critical. In front of every capo and consigliere in the room, he said the woman who gave the Moretti family its first male heir in Damian’s direct line would control his legal assets, the family trust, and his shares in the docks. I had been married to Damian for three years, and I had never been able to get pregnant.
Vera knew that better than anyone. She used to hold my hand and comfort me, finding so-called private doctors and old remedies while wearing that soft, worried face, as if my pain broke her heart. Then she turned around and booked her delivery suite right beside Don Vito’s hospital room. Before the old Don took his last breath, Vera gave birth.
“Olivia, I really did this for your own good,” she said, cradling the baby like some saint in a painting. “The Moretti bloodline can’t end with a woman like you, can it? A woman who sits in the Donna’s chair and gives the family nothing back?”
Her eyes were gentle, almost holy. Her mouth gave her away. She could barely hold back her smile.
“Besides, I’m traditional,” she went on. “Damian made me a mother for the first time. He should take responsibility for me, don’t you think? As for you, leave the compound empty-handed, and I might be kind enough to let my child call you godmother. At least then you can keep one scrap of dignity.”
Pride lit up her face as she slapped the prenatal DNA report across my face. The pages scattered across the floor, and I lowered my eyes to the line printed on the page.
“The test results support a biological father-son relationship between Damian Moretti and Noah Moretti.”
Everyone expected me to fall apart.
Instead, I looked at the tiny line in the corner of the report and smiled.
Don Vito Moretti’s memorial was being held in the private chapel inside the compound. Everyone wore black suits, black dresses, or black veils. Everyone except Vera. She stood in the middle of the chapel in a wine-red dress so bright it felt obscene, holding a newborn only a few days old. She did not look like a woman attending a funeral. She looked like a woman arriving to claim a crown.
“After I found out I was pregnant, I moved into the west wing to protect the baby,” Vera said. “Don’t blame Damian. I was carrying the Moretti family’s only male heir. Of course he had to bring me back to the family and put us where we belonged.”
Her voice was soft enough to sound tender, but every word was dipped in poison. The chapel went still around us. The guests, the consigliere, the Moretti relatives, and the capos from every branch all turned to me. For one sharp second, the chapel felt less like a memorial and more like a courtroom. They were waiting for me to lose control. I kept staring at that tiny line in the corner of the report. My smile deepened. Then Vera’s phone rang. Donna Serena’s voice came through the speaker, shaking with excitement. “Vera, is it true? The Moretti line finally has a male heir? Don Vito has an heir?”
Vera looked straight at me while she answered. She softened her voice and poured out her grievances, first saying the baby looked exactly like Damian, then describing how much she had suffered in childbirth. Only then did she hang up, chin lifted, victory written all over her face. I looked at her and said, “This child will never inherit Don Vito’s estate.” Vera laughed as if I had told the cheapest joke in the room.
“Has sitting in the Donna’s chair gone to your head, Olivia?” she asked. “The DNA report is right there. Damian is Noah’s biological father. Under the will, Noah is the only male heir in the direct line right now. Move out of the compound today, and I can still let Noah recognize you as a respectable godmother. After all, you can’t give birth. At least you can stand off to the side and watch my son wear a little suit while every capo bows his head and calls him the little heir.”
An hour later, Donna Serena stumbled into the chapel without even a coat. The moment she saw the baby’s face, she could not stop praising him.
“He looks like Damian. He looks exactly like Damian.”
As if I might attack the baby at any second, she ordered two family soldiers to stand in front of me.
“This is the Moretti family’s treasure,” she said. “Protect him well.”
Then she took Vera’s hand with a tenderness she had not shown me once in years.
“Vera, you gave birth only a few days ago. Sit down and rest. Don’t wear yourself out. I’ll call the consigliere right away and have him prepare the trust inheritance papers. Once the trust is settled, we’ll send you to that private postpartum recovery center in Manhattan for six months.”
After that, Donna Serena gave me a disgusted look.
“Unlike certain people,” she said. “Three years in this family, and she never even gave the Morettis the sound of a newborn crying. If I were you, I would pack my bags and leave the compound myself. If the soldiers have to drag you out, you won’t even keep the last bit of dignity as Donna.”
I only stared at the baby in the nanny’s arms.
“No need to call the consigliere,” I said. “She won’t get that inheritance.”
Vera looked me up and down as if I were already on the street.
“Wake up, Olivia. You can’t give this family an heir. That’s the hand you were dealt. Back in college, you loved those little slip dresses, always laughing with men and acting like rules were for other women. How could someone like you deserve to give the Moretti family an heir?”
She smoothed her wine-red skirt on purpose and put on that wounded, innocent look she wore whenever she wanted witnesses.
“A family like the Morettis needs a woman who knows her place,” she said. “A woman who understands loyalty, purity, and duty. A woman who knows when to bow. That is why I was able to give Damian a son.”
People moved through the chapel, but every gaze kept sliding back to Vera and me. This was not just a baby. This was Don Vito’s massive trust. It was the key to a new power structure inside the Moretti family. Whoever touched that inheritance could rise from a side branch to the main table overnight while every capo lowered his head and raised a glass.
“What the hell is this disgrace at Don Vito’s memorial?”
Nicholas Moretti strode over. He was Damian’s father. He had no real power in the Family, but he loved acting like an elder with authority. The second he saw Vera, his face softened.
“Vera is here,” he said kindly. “The consigliere is on his way. Once he arrives, we’ll announce the heir. The kitchen just made truffle chicken soup. Drink some. We can’t neglect our little heir.”
“Exactly,” Donna Serena said at once. “You’ve done a great service for the Moretti family. You need to take care of yourself.”
