Chapter 1

A month before my wedding with Vincent Moretti, he decided he wanted to have a child with another woman.

I refused, but he brought it up incessantly every day.

Two weeks before the wedding, I received an ultrasound image in the mail.

That was when I found out—his first love, Serafina, was already a month pregnant.

It turned out, he had never considered asking for my permission.

In that moment, years of love shattered like thin ice on a river under the weight of a single step.

I canceled the wedding, destroyed everything that tied us together, and on the day we were supposed to be married, I walked into the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency’s laboratory.

From that day on, Vincent Moretti ceased to exist in my life.

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“I’ve explained this a thousand times, Eleanor. Serafina has cancer—she has one year left to live. I owe her my life. If it weren’t for her, I would’ve been gunned down by a rival family long ago. Her dying wish is to leave behind a child with Moretti blood for her family. I have to help her!”

I had heard Vincent repeat these words no less than a hundred times over the past month.

The first time he made that absurd request, I refused without hesitation. But like a predator fixated on its prey, Vincent never gave up.

His tone shifted from tentatively seeking my understanding to issuing commands as though it was his right.

To him, my refusal seemed like an act of betrayal against the entire Moretti family.

What kind of man repays a woman for saving his life by having a child with her? This isn’t the Middle Ages!

The endless arguments over the past month had drained me of strength. I couldn’t even muster the energy to fight back anymore. I simply looked at the man I’d loved for five years, my voice trembling as I asked, “Vince, we’re supposed to get married at the Cathedral of the Holy Name next month. And now you want to have a child with another woman. What about me? What do you take me for?”

For the first time, Vincent saw me utterly defeated, as if the cold, damp fog of Lake Michigan had wrapped itself around me.

His demeanor softened slightly. He spoke in that controlled, persuasive tone he only used when closing a deal: “Ellie, I know this is hard to accept. But this is a family obligation—it’s a matter of honor. Only I can help Serafina, and I can’t let her leave this world with regrets.”

“And it’s just IVF. I won’t so much as touch her. You love me, so you’ll understand, won’t you?”

Hearing these words, my heart sank lower and lower, plunging into a bottomless abyss.

I realized then that Vincent had already made up his mind. Every word he spoke was merely a notification, not a negotiation.

As for my feelings? They were nothing more than a speck of dust in the vast empire he had built.

Vincent opened his mouth to say more, but his phone rang, interrupting him. He glanced at the screen, immediately stood up, and walked into his soundproof study, phone in hand.

I watched his retreating figure and let a bitter smile curve my lips.

Vincent and I had practically grown up together in Chicago’s South Side. From elementary school to college, our lives were closely intertwined.

I’d known since I was a child that I loved him—the brightest, most dangerous boy in the neighborhood. I stayed by his side in silence, but he never seemed to notice me.

It wasn’t until the night of our college graduation that he finally acknowledged my existence and agreed to be my boyfriend.

By all logic, after over twenty years of knowing each other, we should have been each other’s closest confidants.

But in the five years we’d been together, I had never touched Vincent’s phone, not even once. He always avoided taking calls when I was around.

I still remember the time he was injured in a shooting. Burning with fever, he lay in bed while his phone vibrated incessantly with encrypted messages.

Worried the noise might disturb him, I reached out to put it on silent mode.

The moment my fingers brushed the phone, his eyes flew open. Those gray irises were filled with icy suspicion as he demanded, “What do you think you’re doing?”

No matter how I explained, he didn’t believe me.

That night, I curled up alone on the living room sofa until dawn.

I told myself it was just his nature as the heir to the Moretti family. I believed that one day, I would find a way into his heart.

But five years passed, and nothing changed.

No, some things did change. At least now, he wanted to have a child with another woman without sparing a thought for how I—the woman he was about to marry—might feel.

When Vincent finally came out of his study, his face was alight with joy. He grabbed his Armani jacket from the sofa, shrugged it on, and headed for the door.

“I have to go take care of something. Think it over, okay?”

As I listened to his hurried footsteps fade away, my heart felt hollow.

The only person who could make him this eager was undoubtedly Serafina.

Sure enough, not long after, Serafina’s Instagram story updated with a new photo.

When I clicked on it and saw the image, my knees almost gave out.