The contractions were ripping me in two. My vision was going dark.

My husband, Don Vittorio, the man who ruled Chicago, squeezed my hand. His dark eyes burned with love.

"Just a little longer, mia cara. You'll meet our baby soon."

Sweat poured down my face. I still found the strength to smile for him.

Then a nurse walked in. She held a syringe. I thought it was to stop the pain.

But Vittorio’s hand fell away. He took a single step back.

The needle sank into my arm. I heard Vittorio’s voice. It was cold steel. "Dose her carefully. She holds on until midnight. Not a minute sooner. Not until after Ornella delivers."

And then I knew. He thought I married him for the money.

He was stopping my labor. All for a sick Falcone family rule: the first son born is the next heir.

Pain tore through me. I reached for him. Tears streamed down my face. I begged him to stop.

He bit his lip. His voice was pure ice.

"My brother is dead. Ornella carries his only heir. You will do as you are told. You and your child will not steal his birthright."

The drug hit my veins. The violent squeeze in my belly, like some invisible hand, just… stopped.

My head was spinning. They pushed me into a storage room in the hospital basement. A makeshift cell.

"Put her here."

I knew that voice.

Elena Falcone. My husband's sister.

She moved closer. A cold blade touched my cheek. That's when I saw the scalpel in her hand.

"Don't blame Vittorio, Alessia," she said, looking down at me. "The baby in Ornella's belly is my dead brother Marco's only child. He's the only one who deserves to be the heir."

"I never... I never wanted to compete with her..." I whispered.

She clamped her hand over my mouth before I could finish.

"Your pathetic acting makes me sick! Did you forget pushing Ornella down the stairs last month? A pregnant widow who just lost her husband?"

My eyes shot open. "I didn't..."

"She almost lost the baby!" Elena’s voice was a shriek. "If the maid hadn't found her, Marco's only bloodline would have ended because of a snake like you!"

A tearing pain ripped through my belly. I couldn't breathe.

Elena sneered. She dragged the flat of the blade across my cheek. The metal was ice against my skin.

"Family rules are absolute. First to deliver the heir, wins. So you and your little bastard? You just lost."

I clutched my belly. A new wave of contractions was fighting the drug.

The pain was so bad, my vision was going dark.

"Get a doctor. I'm having the baby, for real..."

"Having the baby?" Elena laughed like it was the funniest joke she'd ever heard. "Stop the act. Ornella already explained your whole game to my brother. She said you'd pull a stunt like this today."

Elena turned and nodded to two big guards outside.

"Watch her. If she screams, tape her mouth shut."

The door slammed shut.

A single, dim emergency light lit the basement.

I lay on the floor. The blood had already soaked through my dress.

Vittorio took my phone when we got to the hospital. He said he wanted me to focus on the delivery, that he'd keep it safe for me.

Now I knew why. He was afraid I'd call for help.

I curled into a ball, trying to breathe through the pain. All I could see was Vittorio’s face when he ordered them to lock me up. The disgust in his eyes.

Like I was the enemy, not his wife, not the woman about to give him a child.

He believed every lie Ornella told. Every crime she pinned on me.

Elena, too.

I remembered seven months ago. His brother, the original Don Marco, was killed in a hit by a rival family.

At the funeral, while everyone was lost in grief, Ornella threw up in front of everyone.

She was pregnant.

That child became the family's last hope.

I tried to comfort the old, grieving Don. "Don't worry," I told him. "My and Vittorio's child will grow up to be a pride of the family, too. They'll be here for you."

The old man just looked at me. He said nothing.

I get it now. From that moment on, my child was already written off.

Time dragged on.

The drugs started wearing off. The contractions came back.

Each one was worse than the last, like someone was twisting my insides with a pair of pliers.

I could feel the baby was about to come out.

I dug my nails into my palm to stay awake, then crawled to the door, leaving a trail of blood, and started pounding on it.

"Please!" I yelled. "I need a doctor!"

Nothing.

"Please!" I slammed the door with all my strength. "My baby is coming..."

My voice was raw when a guard finally answered, bored.

"Save your breath. Ornella's about to pop. You can see a doctor after she's done."

"But the baby will die..."

"Then that's what you deserve. An eye for an eye."

I collapsed, my body freezing cold.

So that's what this was. In their eyes, my baby's death was payment for my sins.

Just when I was about to give up, I heard Elena's voice in the hall. She was on the phone, not far from the door. She wanted me to hear.

"Vittorio, how are things on your end?" Elena’s voice was bright.

Vittorio’s voice came through, tired but steady. "Ornella's contractions just started. The doctor says everything's fine. What about your end? Is she behaving?"

"Behaving? She's screaming the place down. Putting on a real show."

Elena scoffed. "You're getting soft, Vittorio. A woman like this? You can't show mercy. Or did you forget her stealing the oxytocin? Trying to force her labor early? If Ornella hadn't caught her, we'd be burying Marco's heir."

Oxytocin? I didn't steal anything!

How could Vittorio think that?

Vittorio was silent for a second. Then his voice turned to ice. "I haven't forgotten. And I haven't forgotten the doctor telling me how close Ornella came to losing the baby after that fall. Marco's only child... I won't let anything happen to it."

"Exactly," Elena said. "So don't you worry. I'm watching her. She can't pull any tricks. Is the dose the doctor gave her strong enough? She won't actually pop early, will she?"

"Don't worry," Vittorio's voice was final. "The doctor swore it only delays labor. He said it won't harm her or the child. A little pain will teach her a lesson. A lesson about trying to pull a fast one. After Ornella delivers the true heir, she can have her baby."

"Good. You focus on Ornella. I've got this."

The call ended.

The world went dead silent again.

I don't know how long I was in that basement.

The bleeding got worse. The floor beneath me was soaked. I was fading in and out of consciousness with the pain.

Every contraction was like a bomb going off in my belly.

Suddenly, the door flew open.

"Madonna mia!" a familiar voice cried out.

Dr. Russo.

The Falcone family's private doctor.

He rushed to my side, kneeling in the pool of my blood, his trembling hands checking my pulse.

"Signora Falcone! What are you doing here?" His face was white. "I thought you were in the VIP suite upstairs—"

"Elena—" I said weakly. "She put me—"

"Don't talk." Dr. Russo lifted my dress to examine me. The horror on his face grew. "You're fully dilated, your water broke, and you're hemorrhaging. This is a Code Red!"

He tried to use his phone, but the screen read "No Signal."

"Damn this basement!" he cursed, then looked at me. "Signora, I have to get you to a delivery room. Right now!"

Dr. Russo bent down to pick me up. "Here, hold on to me."

"My baby—" I grabbed his arm. "Please, save my baby."

"I'm saving you both," he said through gritted teeth, lifting me into his arms. "But first, we get out of this hellhole."

The guards outside saw him and moved to block our path.

"Stop! Miss Elena said—"

"Miss Elena said what?" Dr. Russo roared. "To let a woman in labor bleed to death in a storage closet? Get out of my way!"

His voice had the authority of a doctor, and even the guards flinched.

Dr. Russo stumbled with me toward the elevator.

Blood dripped onto the floor, leaving a sickening trail behind us.

"Hang on," he panted. "The top floor has the best equipment. We're almost there."

The elevator felt like it was moving through concrete. Every floor was torture.

My vision was blurring, but I could feel my baby fighting, trying to get out.

"How much longer?" I whispered.

"Two minutes," Dr. Russo said, watching the floor numbers. "Just two minutes."

The elevator finally reached the top floor. The doors opened, and Dr. Russo charged toward the luxury private delivery suite—

The door was open.

We rushed in and froze.

The room was empty.

The millions of dollars of medical equipment—all gone.

Monitors, ventilators, the surgical table, even the goddamn bed—gone.

There was nothing but four bare walls and a few dangling wires.

"This is impossible," Dr. Russo whispered, standing stunned in the doorway. "Where's the equipment?"

Footsteps echoed from the hall.

Elena appeared at the door, a few nurses behind her.

She saw us and put on a show of surprise.

"Oh my god! Alessia!" She clutched her chest. "You look terrible! Dr. Russo, why isn't she resting in bed?"

"Resting?" Dr. Russo stared at her. "She was hemorrhaging in a basement storage room! And this suite—where is all the equipment?"

Elena blinked, like the answer was obvious.

"Oh, that equipment?" she said casually. "We moved it to Ornella's suite."

Dr. Russo's face went even paler. "What?"

"To ensure the safe delivery of the one true heir to the Falcone family," Elena said, her voice slow and deliberate. Her eyes raked over me with pure contempt. "Ornella gets the best of everything. It's her right."

"But Signora Falcone is crowning!" Dr. Russo was screaming now. "She needs surgery, right now!"

Elena glanced at me. She shrugged.

"Drop the act, Alessia. Vittorio already told me. That dose is harmless. You're just putting on a show for sympathy, trying to distract from Ornella's labor. We're not falling for your games again."

I stared at her perfectly made-up face.

I suddenly remembered a year ago, using the first money I ever made from selling my paintings to buy her a Dior dress she'd been dreaming of.

She hugged me and said, "Alessia, you're the sister I never had."

What a joke.

The "sister she never had" was lying on the floor, bleeding out, while she and her precious brother pushed me toward my grave.

Dr. Russo laid me on the floor of the empty room and ran out.

"I'll check the nurses' station for supplies!" he yelled.

Elena leaned against the doorframe, enjoying the show.

"So dramatic," she said, examining her nails. "Still needs work on your acting, though."

Another contraction ripped through me, and I curled into a ball.

Blood kept pooling under me, spreading across the white marble floor.

Two minutes later, Dr. Russo ran back in.

Empty-handed.

His face was white as a sheet.

"There's nothing at the station," he said, his voice trembling. "Not even a basic hemostat. No gauze."

Elena chuckled. "Oh, those? They were sent to Ornella's room, too. Vittorio's orders."

"This is murder!" Dr. Russo shouted. "She'll die! The baby will die!"

"That's fate," Elena shrugged. "The needs of the Family come first."

Dr. Russo knelt beside me and took my hand.

"Signora, I'm so sorry," he said, tears in his eyes. "I have no equipment, no medicine. Nothing."

"Then use your hands!" I grabbed his collar. "Do anything!"

"I can't risk it. It's not sterile, I have nothing to stop the bleeding—"

"Enough!" Elena suddenly snapped.

Two guards walked in and grabbed Dr. Russo's arms.

"Miss Elena said 'enough'," one of them grunted.

"No!" Dr. Russo struggled. "She needs a doctor!"

They started dragging him out.

"Listen to me!" Dr. Russo screamed as they dragged him away. "You have to push! Find the hardest point of the contraction and bear down! Use the pain!"

His voice faded down the hall. "Bear down! Don't give up!"

The door slammed shut.

It was just me and Elena again.

She pulled out her phone and made a video call.

"Vittorio?" Her voice was suddenly full of hurt. "You need to see the new show your 'good wife' is putting on."

She pointed the camera at me.

I saw Vittorio’s face. He stood in the brightly lit hall outside another suite. His suit was rumpled. His face was a mask of exhaustion.

When he saw me in the pool of blood, a flicker of shock crossed his face. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by ice.

"What's wrong with her?" His voice was tight, cold.

"What do you think? It's an act," Elena said lightly. "She's bleeding a little, sure, but Dr. Russo is a drama queen. I think she's just trying to get you to come over here."

Vittorio's jaw tightened as he stared at me through the screen.

Then, a weak woman's voice came from his side of the call. Ornella.

"Vittorio… who is it… Is that Alessia? Is she… is she blaming me again?"

"It's nothing, don't lose focus," Vittorio said, his voice instantly softening for her. But his eyes on me grew colder.

"Vittorio!" I screamed with my last bit of strength. "Save me... the baby... the baby is really coming!"

"Alessia, stop it." His expression didn't change. "Ornella is having complications. The doctors are with her now. She is the priority."

"But I—"

"I'll deal with you after," he cut me off coldly.

On the screen, I saw him turn to gently stroke Ornella's forehead.

"This is your penance for what you did."

The screen went black.

Elena put her phone away, satisfied.

"See?" She knelt in front of me, her eyes full of cruelty. "You're nothing to Vittorio. Just some woman who climbed into his bed for money. A broodmare. And now, you're not even good for that."

"You thought you could marry into the Falcone family and become a queen?" she said, standing to deliver her verdict. "You and that thing inside you are just trash that needs to be cleaned up."

I closed my eyes. I couldn't look at her anymore.

My hand secretly moved to the necklace I was wearing.

It was an antique locket from my grandmother. The last line of defense my father gave me before my wedding.

"If you are ever in a danger you cannot escape," my father had told me, his voice dead serious, "crush it."

My fingers found the tiny mechanism inside the locket.

Elena's voice was still ringing in my ears.

"...Ornella told me you were no good from the start. I even defended you. What a fool I was. Some girl from nowhere, marrying in for money. Who knows what you were really after?"

With all my strength, I crushed the mechanism.

There was no sound, no light. But I knew. The signal was sent.

"Half an hour," my father had said. "Within half an hour, my men will tear Chicago apart to find you."

But my baby... could my baby last another half an hour?