Chapter 2

The clinic smelled of antiseptic and secrets.

I checked in under a false name, wearing oversized sunglasses and a baseball cap—standard protocol for mafia wives seeking discretion.

"Mrs.Carver will see you in ten minutes," the receptionist said, her voice professionally blank.

Ten minutes until I erase the last connection to Lorenzo.

I sat in the waiting room, my hands clasped over my stomach, when familiar voices echoed down the hallway.

"—the best suite, Dr. Marchetti. Nothing but the best for my son."

Lorenzo's voice.

My blood turned to ice.

I stood and moved toward the sound, my feet carrying me before my brain could stop them.

Through the half-open door of the VIP wing, I saw them.

Lorenzo, his hand protectively cradling Giulia's lower back.

Giulia, glowing in a designer maternity dress, laughing at something the doctor said.

The ultrasound screen showing a perfect, tiny form.

His child. His real child. The one he chose.

"Mrs. Benedetti," the doctor was saying to Giulia—using MY title. "The heartbeat is strong. Everything looks perfect."

"I told you," Lorenzo said softly, pressing a kiss to Giulia's temple. "Our baby is a fighter."

Our baby.

The words detonated in my chest.

I must have made a sound because Lorenzo's head snapped up.

His eyes met mine through the doorway.

"Alessia?" He stepped toward me, his face darkening. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing." My voice shook despite my efforts to control it.

"I'm accompanying Giulia to her appointment." He moved to block the doorway, as if protecting her from me. "Why are you following us?"

"Following you?" I laughed, the sound jagged. "I had an appointment here first."

"An appointment for what?" His eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Tell him. Tell him right now.

But Giulia appeared beside him, one hand on her belly, her expression perfectly calibrated to wounded innocence.

"Alessia, I know this is difficult for you," she said, her voice dripping false sympathy. "But Lorenzo and I—we're building a family. You need to accept that."

"Accept it?" I stepped closer, fury overriding caution. "You're wearing a Benedetti ring. You're using my title. You've stolen my life."

"I didn't steal anything." Giulia's mask slipped for just a second, revealing cold calculation underneath. "I'm giving Lorenzo what you couldn't—an heir."

Lorenzo grabbed my arm as I lunged forward.

"Alessia, stop! You're making a scene!"

"I'm making a scene?" I wrenched free. "She's pregnant with your child while you're still married to me, and I'm the problem?"

"Lower your voice," Lorenzo hissed, glancing at the medical staff gathering in the hallway. "Do you want everyone to know our business?"

"Everyone already knows!" I threw my phone at him, the screen showing Giulia's darknet posts. "She made sure of that!"

Giulia swayed suddenly, her hand reaching for the wall.

"Lorenzo," she gasped. "I feel dizzy. The stress—it's too much—"

Of course.

She stumbled, and Lorenzo caught her, his arms wrapping around her protectively.

"What did you do?" He turned on me, his face twisted with rage. "Are you trying to hurt her? Hurt my baby?"

"I didn't touch her!"

"You're attacking a pregnant woman!" Lorenzo shouted, and the gathering crowd murmured their shock. "Security! Get her out of here!"

"Lorenzo, please—" Giulia's voice was weak now, theatrical. "Don't be angry with her. She's just... jealous. She can't help it."

This bitch is performing.

Two security guards approached, and I backed away, my heart pounding.

"I didn't touch her," I repeated, but no one was listening.

They were all looking at Giulia, the poor pregnant widow being harassed by the bitter wife.

I've already lost this battle.

Lorenzo's eyes met mine one last time, and what I saw there shattered something fundamental inside me.

Disgust.

As if I were the villain in this story.

"If you ever come near Giulia again," he said coldly, "you'll regret it."

The security guards were reaching for me when I held up my hand.

"I'll leave." I straightened my spine, channeling every ounce of dignity my father had taught me. "But first, Lorenzo, answer one question."

"Enough!" He cut me off, his voice like a whip. "I'm not leaving her, Alessia. Not for you, not for anyone. She's carrying my heir, and I will protect them both. Even from you."

The words landed like bullets.

"Understood," I said softly.

I turned and walked away, the security guards parting for me, their expressions a mix of pity and contempt.

Behind me, I heard Giulia's sob of relief and Lorenzo's comforting murmurs.

He made his choice.

I walked past the receptionist desk, where my appointment was still scheduled.

"Mrs. Carver is ready for you now," the receptionist called.

I kept walking.

Out of the clinic, into the harsh sunlight, to my car.

I sat in the driver's seat and stared at my phone.

Dr. Carver's personal number was still on my screen.

This is it. The last chance to tell him the truth.

My thumb hovered over Lorenzo's contact.

But then I remembered his face—the disgust, the dismissal, the absolute certainty that I was lying.

He already chose. He chose her over me, over our child, over everything.

I scrolled to a different number instead.

Dr. Reeves, the surgeon Dr. Carver had recommended for "complicated cases."

"This is Alessia Romano," I said when he answered. "I need your services. Today."

"What kind of procedure?"

I looked back at the clinic, where Lorenzo was probably still cooing over Giulia's ultrasound images.

"The permanent kind."