I stood in the shadowy corner of the sprawling driveway, the cool night breeze doing nothing to ease the burning pain in my stomach.

I watched Julian wrap his large hand around Alessia's waist as they walked out of the ballroom.

The sight of them together completely shattered the last shred of affection in my memory.

My hands trembled as I pulled out my secure burner phone.

I opened a text thread with Lucian, Julian's adopted brother and the syndicate's consigliere.

I typed out an SOS message as the flickering lights on the driveway blurred into streaks, another cramp hitting me hard.

No, I deleted the text. I had to endure this alone. I had to see exactly how far Julian would go.

I was an adult and had to pay the price for my own choices.

Before completely admitting defeat, I didn't want anyone else to see me in such a pathetic state.

The heavy oak doors of the estate swung wide open.

Alessia clung tightly to Julian's arm, burying her face in his shoulder.

"Julian, my penthouse was broken into," Alessia sobbed quietly. "I don't feel safe going anywhere else. Please, let me stay here, under your protection."

Julian didn't hesitate for a second. He nodded, his jaw tight, putting on an air of unquestionable authority.

He looked up and spotted me half-hidden in the shadows.

"Sienna," Julian barked, pointing to the armored SUV parked in the driveway. "Get in the driver's seat. You're driving us to the private quarters. Alessia is staying with us."

"You're bringing her into our private sanctuary?" I was appalled by his audacity.

"Do not question my orders," Julian snapped aggressively, completely ignoring my words. "You are being paranoid, selfish, and bitter. She is in danger."

I took a deep breath, one hand involuntarily coming to rest on my lower abdomen.

"Julian, I have something important to tell you," I began, desperate to reveal my pregnancy, hoping the mention of his miracle child would snap him out of this madness.

"Stop," Julian interrupted roughly. He took a step closer, his shadow looming over me. "I'm sick of your complaining. If you're mad about what I said inside, get over it. I was just joking when I said I regretted marrying you. You're overthinking things."

"Joking?" I repeated, a bitter taste rising in my throat.

"Alessia is pure, and she needs my protection," Julian defended her firmly. "Stop throwing a fit like a crazy woman."

A violent wave of nausea hit me, hot and sudden.

"If she's so pure," I said, "then translate exactly what you were just whispering to her in Italian. Tell me what you said."

Julian's lips formed a tight line.

A flicker of panic crossed his deep eyes, instantly turning into fury.

"I am not indulging your delusions," Julian sneered. "You don't understand mob business anyway. Get in the car."

I didn't move. I stood my ground, facing the most dangerous man in the city.

Then, I spoke in flawless Italian.

"My wife is a cripple, completely useless, Alessia. You are the only one who can bring a healthy heir to the Rossi family."

Julian froze.

A muscle in his jaw twitched violently. The blood instantly drained from his face, his skin pulling taut over his cheekbones.

I repeated every single insulting word he had used.

My pronunciation was impeccable. My tone was entirely lifeless.

Julian stared at me, his face turning deathly pale as realization struck him.

He knew I had heard everything.

I met the Don's deadened eyes.

"I'm tired," I said. "Julian, I want a divorce."

I turned to walk away.

"Sienna, stop right there!"

Julian's roar echoed across the massive stone courtyard.

I heard his heavy footsteps pounding against the pavement behind me, growing closer with every frantic beat of my heart.

His possessiveness had been completely triggered.

A godfather could not tolerate defiance, especially from the woman he considered the pillar of his estate.

I veered off the driveway, my heels clicking sharply against the flagstones leading to the grand marble staircase of the lower gardens.

Before I could take another step, Julian's hand clamped down tightly on my wrist like handcuffs made of flesh and bone.

He yanked me back so hard my teeth rattled.

"You are not leaving me!" Julian growled, his eyes blazing with fury.

His touch sickened me, knowing he had just used that same hand to hold another woman.

I wrenched against his grip, and for a split second, the raw rebellion in my eyes made him hesitate.

His fingers loosened just a fraction in surprise.

That momentary hesitation was all I needed. I seized the opportunity, broke free, raised my free hand, and slapped him across the face as hard as I could.

I had done it.

No one else would ever dare do such a thing—openly slapping the Don.

Alessia, who had been following closely behind, suddenly lunged forward.

She threw herself directly in front of Julian, taking a blow that was never meant for her.

In the night air, the sound of my palm striking her cheek was sharp.

Alessia gasped, a sound far too fragile and far too deliberate.

She stumbled backward, clutching her face, then collapsed to the ground and began sobbing dramatically.

"Please!" Alessia cried, throwing herself against Julian's legs.

"Please, stop fighting over me! It's all my fault. I'll leave! Julian, please don't let her hurt you!"

She played the role of the ultimate martyr to perfection.

Julian looked down at his childhood swan, the other woman.

He saw the red marks of my fingers glowing against her pale cheek.

A savage fury blinded him.

He stepped toward me.

He raised his hand, his face twisted into a mask of pure violence, lunging at his own wife.

I braced myself for the impact, stepping backward until my heel met empty air at the edge of the stairs.

Alessia pretended to hold Julian back, but actually grabbed his arm.

Using the chaotic momentum of his lunge, she swung her body weight forward.

Her hands planted firmly on my shoulders.

For someone so frail, she pushed me back with incredible force.

As gravity took over, I caught a glimpse of the wicked, triumphant glint in Alessia's eyes, even if just for a second.

My foot slipped off the edge of the landing.

I fell backward into the open air, a sickening jolt making the world turn upside down.

I tumbled violently down the unforgiving marble staircase.

My body slammed into the stone, again, and again.

A dull impact traveled up my spine, stealing all sound, and the metallic taste of blood filled my throat.

A violent, tearing sensation ripped through my lower abdomen.

It felt like an invisible knife carving me open from the inside out.

I rolled off the bottom of the stairs onto the pathway.

I couldn't breathe, nor could I cry for help. The agonizing pain pinned me down like a heavy boulder.

I lay there, staring up at the pitch-black, starless night sky.

And then, I felt it.

A terrifying, warm, chilling rush of fluid soaked through my custom gown, pooling between my thighs.

I didn't need a doctor to tell me what had happened.

I knew instantly.

My prayed-for miracle, my eight-week-old Rossi heir, was gone.

My vision began to blur, a dark tunnel closing in on my sight.

Just before I plunged completely into darkness, I saw movement at the top of the stairs.

Julian violently shoved Alessia aside.

She hit the ground hard, but he didn't even glance at her, his previous rage vanishing like a phantom.

Julian's face was contorted in primal terror.

He looked like a bystander, his eyes locked not on my face, but on that dark trail of blood.

"Sienna!"

His desperate, broken scream echoed through my fading consciousness as he threw himself down the marble steps toward me.

Julian's POV:

The air outside the surgical wing of the underground syndicate infirmary reeked of bleach.

I paced the narrow corridor, the frantic, agitated clicking of my dress shoes against the concrete floor the only sound in the hallway.

My fists were clenched so tightly my knuckles were white.

The image of Sienna lying broken at the bottom of the stairs haunted my mind.

My custom shirt was ruined, stiff and soaked with my wife's dried blood. My hands wouldn't stop shaking.

Alessia was curled up in a chair in the corner.

"Julian, I'm so sorry," Alessia mumbled through her hands. "It was an accident. I swear, I tried to catch her. I tried to stop her from falling. It's all my fault."

I didn't answer her. I couldn't speak. A boulder of terror felt wedged under my ribs, making it impossible to take a deep breath.

The heavy metal doors of the operating room finally swung open.

The syndicate doctor stepped out, his green scrubs covered in blood. He pulled down his mask, his face set in a grim expression.

I crossed the hall in two strides and grabbed the doctor by the collar of his scrubs.

"Tell me she's alive," I demanded.

"The Donna is stable, Boss," the doctor said quickly, raising his hands. "She survived the fall. We managed to stop the internal bleeding."

I let out a long, shuddering breath. I released his collar and leaned back against the concrete wall.

She was alive. I could fix this.

I could buy her diamonds; I could give her the whole world as penance.

"But, Boss," the doctor continued, "I'm so sorry. The baby didn't make it."

The silence in the corridor was so deafening it hurt my ears.

I froze. My brain stopped processing sound; the words seemed suspended in the dead air.

"Baby?"

It was a foreign syllable to me.

I stared blankly at the doctor, completely at a loss.

I had no idea she was pregnant.

It was impossible. Years ago, her womb was destroyed to save my life.

The doctor gave me a look. He shoved a thick medical file right into my chest.

"She was eight weeks pregnant, Don," the doctor said, his tone thick with indignation, all professional respect gone. "It was a miracle conception. Did you not know?"

The words "eight weeks" drove into my temples like steel nails, shattering my fragile system of self-deception.

Memories rushed back, slamming into me violently.

I remembered her in the ballroom, tugging at my jacket, whispering that she wasn't feeling well.

I remembered shaking her off in a moment of irritation.

I remembered her in the driveway, trying to tell me something important, and me harshly cutting her off.

I remembered standing in the ballroom, pouring champagne, publicly humiliating the mother of my child by calling her a useless vessel.

A suffocating wave of self-loathing swallowed me whole.

I turned and punched the concrete wall. The force was so great that the bones in my hand cracked upon impact.

I pounded it again and again until my knuckles were a bloody, mangled mess, as if the physical pain in my hand could somehow cancel out the agony everywhere else.

Alessia, deathly pale, pressed herself tightly into her chair, terrified by the raw display of violence.

"Julian, please," Alessia trembled, her voice laced with fear. "You can't blame yourself. Sienna started it. She lost her balance trying to hit me. She brought this on herself."

I stopped punching the wall, my bleeding hand dropping limply to my side.

I turned around slowly.

I looked at Alessia, seeing her fake tears, the hidden apathy, and the hypocrisy in her eyes.

All I saw was red. A bloodshot, murderous glare locked onto her face, stripping away all her disguises.

"Do you think I'm a fool?" I asked, my voice terrifyingly low.

I reached into my pocket with my good hand and pulled out my encrypted phone. I dialed my head of security, keeping my eyes fixed on her, daring her to move.

"Lock down the estate," I ordered into the phone, my eyes never leaving her pale face. "Bring me the security footage of the courtyard stairs. If anyone touches it, I'll kill them myself."