The sound of the fall must have echoed through the house, because Alessandro came rushing out moments later, water still dripping from his hair, his face tense.

Before I could even catch my breath, Camilla collapsed dramatically to the floor as if she were the one who had been attacked.

She burst into tears instantly. “Rosalie, I’ve always treated you with respect! I only came to help because you’re pregnant! Why would you try to hit me?”

She pointed at me with trembling hands, pretending to be terrified.

“Why would you throw yourself down the stairs like that?” she cried. “Are you trying to frame me? I didn’t touch you! Alessandro, I swear, I never pushed her! Why is she doing this to me?”

Then Camilla turned as though she had only just noticed Alessandro standing there.

Her voice softened at once, weak and fragile.

“I’m alright, Alessandro… really,” she murmured shakily. “Don’t worry about me. Please, check on Rosalie instead. She… she just slipped.”

She even made her lip quiver, playing the innocent victim perfectly.

Alessandro’s eyes moved to the red marks on her skin, and I saw several emotions flash across his face all at once—guilt, panic, and possessiveness.

Without hesitation, he tore off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders as if she were something precious and fragile.

“Camilla, are you hurt?” he asked urgently. “I’m taking you to the hospital right now.”

“I… I’m okay,” she whispered softly. “My leg hurts a little, but Rosalie looks like she’s in much worse shape…”

The instant she said that, Alessandro’s expression hardened.

He turned to me with that cold, merciless look he always wore when he was angry.

“Get up,” he barked. “I heard what happened. Camilla was trying to help you, and this is how you repay her? You ungrateful bitch.”

I was still crumpled on the stairs, dizzy and barely able to breathe through the pain twisting in my stomach.

I tried to speak, my voice shaking.

“No… that’s not true… she pushed me—”

But Alessandro cut me off before I could finish.

“Enough,” he snapped. “Do you think I’m stupid enough to believe that nonsense? Camilla can barely open a bottle on her own. She would never shove you. She’s gentle. She’s kind. Why would she ever hurt you?”

His voice dropped into the dangerous tone he used when he was punishing people.

“When did you become this pathetic, Rosalie?” he said coldly. “Lying. Twisting the truth. Acting vicious.”

He didn’t wait for me to answer.

Instead, he bent down, lifted Camilla into his arms, and carried her like she was royalty.

As he stepped past me, he kicked me aside without hesitation because I was in his way.

“Stay there, then,” he said harshly. “Just don’t block my path.”

Camilla looked over his shoulder as he carried her away.

She gave me the smallest smirk before wrapping her arms tighter around his neck.

Then I heard the front door slam.

A second later, the engine started.

And then—

Silence.

For a moment, I thought I might black out right there on the stairs.

But I couldn’t.

The maids stood nearby watching, but none of them moved.

The pain in my stomach was getting worse—sharp, violent cramps that felt like something inside me was being ripped apart.

Alessandro wasn’t coming back.

And if I stayed there any longer, I would die bleeding on the staircase like I meant nothing.

So I forced myself to breathe.

I grabbed the railing and dragged myself upright.

Every movement hurt.

Every step was agony.

But I kept moving.

I didn’t even dare call a taxi at first.

I was terrified something would happen on the ride—that I’d bleed everywhere, that the driver would see and throw me out.

So I walked.

Bent over, clutching my stomach, dragging myself forward while each step felt like being stabbed.

By the time I staggered into the nearest hospital, blood had soaked through my clothes.

The nurse at the desk gasped the moment she saw me and rushed me inside.

The doctor pulled up my records and let out a heavy sigh, as if he already knew how this would end.

“The pregnancy is only five weeks along,” he said. “After a puncture that early, the uterus can contract dangerously. And after a fall down the stairs…” He shook his head. “There’s no way the pregnancy can survive.”

He examined me again, and his expression became grim.

“You’re fortunate you made it here at all,” he said. “You were hemorrhaging. Another hour and you wouldn’t have survived.”

I let out a long breath.

Not from grief.

From relief.

Then I laughed.

Softly.

Brokenly.

“Doctor…” I whispered. “Please terminate the pregnancy. Right now.”

He looked startled.

But I wasn’t.

The moment I learned the truth—that the three of them had used me, humiliated me, turned me into part of their twisted game—the life inside me no longer felt like a blessing.

It felt like poison.

Losing the baby didn’t feel tragic.

It felt like freedom.

This pregnancy had never been hope.

It had been a nightmare.

And for the first time, I felt like I was finally waking up.

**

I returned home the next day.

I already knew Alessandro and Camilla wouldn’t be there.

The second I walked inside, the air made me sick.

The room still smelled like them.

The bed sheets were tangled.

Clothes were scattered everywhere.

They hadn’t even bothered to clean up after themselves.

I stepped over the mess, my stomach turning, and went straight into the bathroom.

I turned on the shower.

I washed once.

Then again.

Then again.

After the fifth time, I stopped counting.

But no matter how hard I scrubbed, the smell wouldn’t go away.

Sweat.

Sex.

Blood.

And somewhere underneath all of it, I imagined I could still smell the child I had lost.

I scrubbed until my skin stung.

Until it burned.

But I still felt filthy.

Still felt ruined.

Then something inside me snapped.

I grabbed the first thing I saw and hurled it at the floor.

A bottle shattered.

Then another.

Then another.

Perfume bottles.

Shampoo.

Even the mirror.

Glass broke everywhere.

Finally, I slid down into the bathtub and cried so hard it felt like my chest was collapsing.

I cried until there was nothing left.

And when the sobbing finally eased, I thought about my parents.

They had been so happy when Alessandro proposed.

And I had been happy too.

Stupidly happy.

I had chosen every part of my dowry myself.

My parents had paid for everything.

The only thing my mother added was a simple brown folder.

On my wedding day, she pulled me aside and placed it in my hands.

“Rosalie,” she said gently, “I know this marriage didn’t begin with love. But your father and I still want you to have happiness. And if one day you don’t… come home to us. We’ll always be here for you.”

Then she touched my cheek and smiled sadly.

“But I pray that day never comes.”

I looked around at what my life had become.

The ruined sheets.

The bruises on my body.

The empty house that once felt like a dream.

And in that moment, I understood.

The day my mother warned me about—

It had already arrived.

I stumbled to my feet and rushed straight to the study, yanking open drawer after drawer until I finally found the file bag my mother had handed me on my wedding day.

Inside was a divorce agreement.

And it was already signed—by Alessandro.

I had no idea how my parents had managed to secure something like that from a man born into a mafia dynasty, but somehow they had. The terms were fair—far fairer than I expected.

My hands trembled as I stared at the papers, yet I signed my name without hesitation, almost as if I had been waiting for that exact moment my entire life.

Just as the pen left the page, my phone rang.

Alessandro.

His name flashed on the screen.

I answered, and his voice came through strangely restrained.

“Rosalie… are you okay?”

I stared blankly at the wall in front of me.

“Shouldn’t I be?”

There was a short pause before he let out a breath.

“Oh. Good. That’s… good. I’m glad you’re alright.”

His tone was careful, almost as if he was trying to sound concerned.

Then he continued.

“Look, I know I was hard on you the other day. I overreacted when I saw Camilla hurt.”

He spoke like a man trying to apologize while refusing to admit any fault.

It was almost laughable.

“I went back to find you,” he said, “but you were already gone, so I assumed you were okay.”

His words meant nothing.

“Did you call for a reason?” I asked coldly.

The sharpness in my voice must have irritated him, because the mask slipped almost immediately.

“I’m apologizing, aren’t I?” he snapped. “What more do you want?”

That familiar cruelty crept back into his tone.

“And let’s be honest—you were the one who caused the problem in the first place. I’m calling because Camilla has forgiven you for pushing her. She even wants you to attend the auction tonight. She and my brothers were planning to buy gifts for the baby. But with the attitude you’re giving me right now, you should be grateful she’s being kind at all. She’s ten times gentler than you.”

I let him keep talking.

I didn’t answer.

After a moment of silence, his tone softened again.

“Alright, enough dragging this out,” he said. “Camilla hurt her leg, and I’m staying with her for now. I’ll have the driver pick you up later.”

Then he ended the call.

Seconds later, my phone buzzed again.

A message from Camilla.

Camilla: You’d better show up tonight. I’ve arranged something special just for you. You know I care about you, right? Remember those pictures of you with Alessandro, Damian, and Roman? The naked ones? They’re going to be the final auction item tonight. No censoring. Everyone will see exactly what you look like.

Then the photos came through.

One after another.

Dozens of them.

My phone kept vibrating in my hands until I dropped it onto the floor.

The strength I had felt after signing those papers disappeared instantly.

Gone.

I had believed that losing the baby meant I was finally free.

But I understood then that as long as Alessandro, Damian, Roman, and Camilla were still in my life, I would never escape them.

My entire body started trembling.

I sank to my knees and called my parents.

The second I heard their voices—gentle, loving, safe—everything inside me broke apart.

When they asked if I was alright, I couldn’t hold anything back.

I told them everything.

Every humiliation.

Every betrayal.

Every horrible thing that had happened.

And when there was nothing left to hide, I cried and begged,

“Mom… Dad… can I leave him? Please. I don’t want to stay with Alessandro anymore. I can’t do this.”

Their voices shook as they answered.

“Oh, sweetheart,” my mother said softly, “you’ve been through enough.”

My father spoke next.

“We’re sending someone for you right now. Come home tonight. We’ll take care of everything else. Just come home and rest. You’re safe now.”

Alessandro’s driver arrived before my parents’ car.

I handed him the file bag.

“This is for Alessandro,” I said quietly.

Nothing else.

Then I got into my parents’ car.

And I never looked back.

During the drive, my phone kept ringing.

Alessandro.

Again.

And again.

And again.

I took out the SIM card, rolled down the window, and threw it away into the darkness.

**

At the auction, the night was almost over.

Alessandro stood near the front, glancing repeatedly toward the entrance.

Each time the doors remained closed, his expression grew darker.

Then his assistant hurried over, holding the file bag in both hands.

“Sir,” the assistant said quietly, lowering his head, “Mrs. Moretti asked me to give this to you. She said you should open it first. She’ll arrive later.”

At those words, Alessandro smiled.

A soft, almost affectionate smile.

The kind he had never once given me.

He opened the file bag slowly.

Then he saw what was inside.

The divorce agreement.

My signature.

And beside it, a small glass jar containing the tiny remains of the baby.

The smile vanished from his face at once.

At that exact moment, the auctioneer struck the gavel twice.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced to the room,

“we now present the final item of the evening…”

Alessandro POV ~

The whole auction froze the second I stood up.

My voice hit the mic system before my mind even caught up.

“STOP THE AUCTION!”

Silence slammed into the room. Even breathing sounded too loud.

Camilla shot up beside me, clinging to my arm like a leech who smelled money slipping away.

“Baby, what are you doing?” she hissed. “This is the highlight of the night. I’ve been waiting for this. Why would you stop it!”

Her face twisted when she realized I wasn’t backing down. The sweetness vanished. All that was left was hunger and irritation.

Behind us, Damian clicked his tongue, swirling the wine in his glass like the whole thing bored him.

“Let it run, bro. It’s good entertainment. That girl’s probably crying somewhere but who cares.”

Roman raised his glass lazily.

“She won’t come anyway. Why bother playing hero now.”

I snapped before I even turned.

“Not. A. Damn. Word.”

I shoved Damian’s hand off my shoulder so hard the wine spilled across the floor.

He stood up. Roman stood up. For a second we were one breath away from breaking tables and necks but I didn’t give them the chance.

I walked out.

People called my name. I ignored them. Camilla chased after me, heels clicking like gunshots.

“Alessandro. Stop! Don’t embarrass me like this.”

I kept walking until we hit the private corridor the Camilla grabbed the file bag and smashed it against the wall.

I heard something inside rattle.

Glass.

I snatched it back and opened it.

Pulled out the small glass jar. Cloudy. Stained dark.

At the bottom was something small. Curled. Fragile.

Five weeks. Barely formed.

My chest tightened in a way I didn’t understand. Like someone was dragging a blade across my ribs from the inside.

Camilla’s face was drained of color.

“Wait. Is that a baby? Did Rosalie abort it? But she was excited. She was obsessed with you. Why would she abort it? Why would she put it in a jar?”

Her voice was shaking now. Not for the baby. For her own damn fear.

A torn piece of paper was taped to the jar.

Her handwriting. Rosalie’s handwriting. I knew it.

“You and your bastard twins can go to hell.

I know everything you did to me.”

My fingers trembled. I couldn’t stop it. Didn’t even try.

Fuck!

Behind us Damian and Roman had followed. They took one look at the jar and both went still.

Damian’s voice dropped, rough. “Is that the kid she was carrying?”

Roman stared. Eyes narrowing. “Holy hell! She really did it.”

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn't think. All I knew was that for the first time in my entire life. I felt like I was the one bleeding out.

…

I stormed out of the corridor, heart hammering, hands shaking so hard I thought I’d crush my phone if I held it too tight. I grabbed my phone and dialed Rancho, my guy who does whatever I tell him without asking questions.

“Find her. Now. Every move she makes, every call, every damn step. Track Rosalie. She does not get to do this to me without paying for it.” My voice was low, dangerous, full of venom.

Damian leaned over, smirking like the bastard he is. “Bro, chill. She’s probably just hiding. Or trying to play games with you. Let her try. She’ll pay for this. I swear it.”

Roman nodded, slow and deliberate. “Yeah, she thinks she can just mess with you, huh? That’s funny. She’s gonna regret it.”

“Of course I’m gonna make her pay for this,” I spat back, every word dripping poison. “She embarrassed me enough by aborting our child. A damn baby we made a bet on, and she goes and signs divorce papers without even looking at me. She’s testing me. She’s lucky I don't tear the world apart before I found her.”

Camilla tried to touch my arm, her voice soft, fake. “Alessandro, calm down. Think—”

“Not now, Camilla. Not now. I am so pissed off I could—ugh!” I shoved her hand away. My pride was shattered.

I called Rancho again, pacing like a predator in a cage, fists clenching until my nails cut into my palms. “I don’t care how you do it. I want her. Now. She has no right to disappear, no right to touch that baby, no right to walk away from me. She’s mine. Every move. Every breath. Find her.”

Rancho’s voice came back, cautious but firm. “Boss, we are everywhere. Surveillance is up, phones are tapped, every car, hotel, apartment she might have touched is being checked. But…” His voice dropped. “Boss… she’s nowhere to be found. It’s like she never existed.”

I froze.

Every muscle in me screamed. The calm bastard persona I kept for the mafia empire, for the world, for the brothers, it cracked. I slammed my fist on the steering wheel of my blacked-out car so hard the horn screamed. Tires squealed as I peeled out, burning toward the villa, the only place I knew she couldn’t hide from me.

When I got there, the villa was empty. Silent. Ghostly. Rosalie had vanished. Clothes, papers, personal stuff, everything gone. It was like she evaporated. My blood boiled. My empire felt like it could crumble in a second. I was obsessed. Desperate. Furious.

So I decided to crash her parents place.