My sister, Sofia, was shot during a clash with a rival family, leaving her in urgent need of a bone marrow transplant.

I was the only match.

There was just one problem.

At six months pregnant with the Falcone family heir, the procedure would kill me.

My family held me down anyway.

My husband, Marco, simply watched.

"It's just some bone marrow, Isabella," he said, his voice void of emotion.

"You're strong. You'll recover."

"But Sofia... she's the family's darling. We can't afford to lose her."

They took my marrow and left me bleeding out on the table.

But I didn't die.

When I woke up, I made a single phone call.

They wanted an heir from me.

So I scheduled an abortion.

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1

"Mrs. Falcone," the doctor began, holding out my medical report. "Are you certain you want to terminate the pregnancy? You're aware of Mr. Falcone's condition. This is the only heir to the Falcone family. Once the procedure is done…"

"That's enough," I cut him off, my voice calm. "Do it."

An unwanted heir? Into this world? This family of vipers? No. He deserved better.

After scheduling the surgery, I returned to our penthouse apartment in Manhattan.

Marco was just striding out of the open-plan kitchen, carrying an exquisite take-out box.

He glanced at my pale face, but his stride didn't falter. His voice was laced with ice.

"Food's on the table. You need to get your strength back after the donation."

Seeing him about to leave, I couldn't stop myself from asking, "Where are you going?"

Marco’s brow furrowed with irritation. "The hospital, obviously. Sofia got hurt taking care of family business. She needs someone there. And you're here, acting like it's nothing!"

As he spoke, he sized me up with a look of pure disgust.

"Making a scene over some marrow. How can you be so cold-hearted? She's your own sister, and you were just going to let her die!"

In that moment, I swear I heard my heart shatter on the floor like a pane of glass.

I bit the inside of my cheek, hard, staring at him. "I'm cold-hearted? If it weren't for this baby, I wouldn't even be able to stand!"

The mention of the baby ignited Marco’s rage. In a single stride, he was on me, pinning me to the wall, his glare ferocious.

"You dare bring up the baby? It was some marrow, not your life! Who the hell do you think you are? You think donating a little marrow is going to kill my son?"

I couldn't believe the words pouring from his mouth.

I stared at him, stunned, my voice barely a whisper.

"And do you know that I haven't slept a full night in six months? Why else do you think I collapsed on that operating table?"

A flicker of guilt crossed Marco's eyes, but it was instantly swallowed by an even greater fury. He tightened his grip.

"It's just a pregnancy, and you've done nothing but cause trouble! If you hadn't insisted on skipping the family dinner, I would have been there to protect Sofia!"

"This is all your fault!"

My back slammed painfully against the wall, and I finally understood. In his mind, everything was my fault.

In his eyes, I owed Sofia.

But I am his wife, carrying the sole heir of the Falcone family.

Yet he'd leave me defenseless in a heartbeat to go play the hero for Sofia.

A laugh escaped my lips.

In Marco’s eyes, that smile was a direct challenge to his authority.

He gripped my chin, his face contorting with disgust as he leaned in. "Sofia almost died for this family, and you can still laugh. Isabella, your malice makes me sick."

"Isabella, don't forget whose name you carry," he enunciated. "Don't make me remind you how this family deals with disobedience."

With that, Marco slammed the door and was gone.

I slid down the cold wall to the floor.

Fine. Soon, I would show him what real heartbreak felt like.

Marco didn't come home that night.

My stomach cramped with hunger, forcing me to drag my weakened body to the kitchen.

I opened the refrigerator, and the cold light illuminated my disappointment.

He had left me a bland salad and some stale bread. The top-grade wagyu and caviar were gone, obviously taken for Sofia.

I stood there, stunned for a moment, then let out a silent, bitter laugh.

What was I even expecting?

I poured a glass of water and picked up a piece of cold bread.

Just then, Marco returned.

He saw me at the dining table, nibbling on the dry, hard bread, and his brow furrowed.

"You're pregnant and you're eating this?" His tone was laced with reproach. "There's nothing in that for you or the baby."

He stepped forward, reaching for my shoulder, but I sidestepped him.

I glanced at him, my expression a mask of mock surprise. "Sorry, I guess I'm not the one who deserves the five-star treatment. I have to make do."

A flash of shame crossed Marco's face, and he cleared his throat.

"If you hadn't been saying things to upset me yesterday, I wouldn't have forgotten to bring you something decent."

He quickly regained his composure and sneered.

"Besides, Sofia got hurt for the family. Of course she's the priority."

"You donated some marrow. Must you act like you're at death's door?"

His words were a block of ice lodging in my chest.

Sofia… it was always Sofia.

In Marco's eyes, I and the Falcone heir in my womb were worth less than his precious Sofia.

I remembered my family's not-so-subtle attempts to push Sofia on Marco right after our wedding.

I had thought I was being paranoid, but now I saw the truth. Marco’s heart had probably been swayed long ago.

Seeing my silence and dazed expression, Marco couldn't help but soften his tone.

"Alright, Isabella, I know you've been through a lot."

He tried to pull me into his arms, but a rich, expensive perfume immediately wafted off his suit.

It was the custom-blended fragrance Sofia always wore.

My stomach churned. A wave of nausea crashed over me.

I couldn't hold it back. I shoved him away and bolted for the bathroom, retching violently.

The few bites of cold bread I’d managed to swallow came back up, burning with stomach acid.

When I finally recovered, I looked up and saw my own pathetic reflection in the mirror, and Marco standing at the door, an exasperated look on his face.

He reached for my arm, his voice laced with false concern. "Isabella, what's wrong? Should I call the doctor?"

I forcefully shook him off, my voice like ice.

"No need. Just stay away from me!"

Marco's placating expression froze, then curdled into a sullen scowl.

As I walked back to the bedroom, he muttered behind me.

"You don't know what's good for you. I try to be decent, and you throw it back in my face with this high-and-mighty act!"