Chapter 1

She was thirty-seven weeks pregnant when the man she loved decided her pain was an inconvenience.

Married to Giovanni D’Amico, heir to a brutal empire, she believed love could change him. She was wrong.

When labor hit hard and fast inside a cold warehouse, she begged him for help.

“Gio… please. I’m bleeding. I need a hospital.”

He never even looked at her.

“My brother’s widow is in labor,” he said, eyes on his phone. “You can wait.”

Instead of saving her, Giovanni locked her inside an overheated boiler room, convinced she was scheming to secure power through her unborn child.

“You want your baby to come first?” he sneered. “You want the family fortune? Not happening.”

Alone, trapped, bleeding, she screamed for help until her voice broke, until the heat stole her breath and the pain tore her apart.

“Please,” she whispered to the door, tears mixing with sweat. “Just let my baby live.”

No one came.

The machines kept roaring. The walls kept burning. And somewhere far away, Giovanni waited for another woman’s child to be born.

By the time the door was finally opened, the room was silent.

Mother and baby never made it out.

--

I was thirty-seven weeks pregnant when my body finally gave up pretending it could wait.

The pain came in waves so violent I could barely think, barely breathe. My hands dug into Giovanni’s sleeve.

“Gio!” I called out, “Please… I need a hospital. Now.”

Giovanni D’Amico. Mafia prince. Golden son. The man I had married because I thought love could soften a monster.

He didn’t look at me. His eyes were glued to his phone.

“My brother’s widow is in labor,” he said flatly, like he were reading a schedule. “Bianca’s already on her way to the private hospital where she give birth.”

“I’m… I’m in labor too,” I whispered, voice breaking. “I can’t stop it. I’m bleeding…”

Finally, his gaze lifted. He laughed, short and cutting. “You really have no shame, huh?”

Before I could respond, he grabbed my arm and dragged me down the concrete corridor behind the warehouse. The kind of place the D’Amicos kept for things no one was meant to see. Firearms. Bodies. Secrets.

He yanked open a heavy metal door.

The heater room hit me like a blast furnace.

No. No. No!

Walls radiated dry, oppressive heat. Every breath was a struggle; sweat poured into my eyes, stinging, and my skin prickled as if the air itself were burning. My belly contracted violently, each wave sharper than the last.

“Giovanni… please…” I cried desperately, “You’ll… you’ll kill the baby in here!”

He shoved me further inside. “You think I don’t see through you?” His voice was low, dangerous. “Trying to push ahead, make your child the first D’Amico grandchild. You want the old man’s fortune. You’re clever… but not clever enough.”

I sank to my knees, chest heaving, sweat matting my hair to my forehead. “That’s not true! I… I don’t want anything! I swear! I’ll sign whatever you want! I’ll leave—just… just let my baby live!”

My arms went around his leg, desperate, shaking. “Geo… please. I’m begging you… just this once, be human!”

He pushed me off like I was nothing. “Human?” he spat, anger flickering across his face, a flash of something darker beneath it. “You’ve never understood what that means. Always pretending to be innocent, always pretending to be… sweet. Disgusting. You want your child safe? Fine. But not until Bianca delivers. After that… maybe I’ll even care about you again.”

Then he stepped out.

I lunged for the door, my sweat-slick hands sliding against the metal handle. Panic made my movements frantic.

Warm liquid ran down my legs.

The baby was coming.

Every contraction ripped through me like fire. My vision blurred. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. I just felt: pain, fear, rage, and a heartbeat of hope that someonewould notice.

Then footsteps echoed outside. Each one a hammer against my chest.

“Geo… please! If you have even a scrap of decency left… please…”

I clawed toward the door and screamed until my voice shattered.

“Help! I’m locked inside! I’m in active labor! Please—someone, please!”

Again and again. Each word scraped my throat raw, my lungs burning as the heat pressed in from all sides. The air was thick, suffocating, buzzing with the constant roar of the machines.

Then a familiar voice cut through the metal.

“Look at you,” she said, laughing softly. “This is what happens when you forget your place.”

Laura D’Amico.

Giovanni’s mother. The woman who had smiled at me over dinner tables and kissed my cheek like she hadn’t already decided I was disposable.

“Mrs. D’Amico,” I begged, forcing my voice steady even as another contraction twisted my spine. “I’m not lying. The baby’s coming. Please. Open the door.”

She slammed her heel against the metal from the outside. The loud sound echoed through my skull, sharp and punishing.

“You really don’t know when to stop?” she snapped. “Do you think I’ll let you out so you can steal Bianca’s moment? Giovanni told me to keep an eye on you. And frankly, I’m tired of your theatrics.”

A contraction hit me so hard I screamed, my knees giving out as I collapsed against the burning floor.

“Our family doesn’t reward schemers,” she continued, “Money goes to blood. Legacy goes to blood. Not to some woman who married her way in and thinks childbirth makes her special.”

“I don’t want the money,” I sobbed, tears streaking down my face, sweat blinding me. “I don’t want the name. I’ll leave. I’ll disappear. I swear. Just please don’t let my baby die in here.”

For a moment, there was nothing.

Just the hum of the heaters. The pounding of my heart.

Then her voice returned, sharp with irritation.

“Enough! You’re giving me a headache.”

She paused, then added, colder now, deliberate. “Make one more sound and I’ll make sure you never bother anyone again.”

I heard her dialing a number.

The heater room roared around me, relentless and cruel. The walls radiated heat like they were alive, pressing in, cooking me from the inside out.

My skin felt like it was on fire. Every breath scraped my lungs. Sweat soaked my clothes, my hair, the floor beneath me. Each contraction tore through me like my body was splitting open by force.

Then I heard his voice through the door.

“Yeah. Relax. She’s not getting out.”

Giovanni.

Just hearing him broke something in me. Hope. Stupid, humiliating hope.

I gathered whatever strength I had left and slammed my fist against the metal.

“Giovanni!” I screamed. “I’m in labor! This isn’t fake! Tell Laura to take me to a hospital—please!”

The pain cut me off mid-sentence, my voice dissolving into sobs I couldn’t stop.

For a second, everything went quiet.

Then Laura spoke again, not as sharp this time.

“Geo... she sounds bad,” she said, uncertainty creeping in. “Really bad. What if she’s telling the truth? That is your child too. If something happens—”

My heart slammed against my ribs. I pressed my forehead to the scorching door, shaking violently.

Giovanni didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice wasn’t harsh anymore. It softened, like he was actually weighing it.

“Fine,” he said slowly. “Just take her—”

The words barely left his mouth when another voice slipped into the call.

Sweet. Light. Untouched by pain.

“Geo,” the woman said lazily, almost laughing. “I’m starving. The doctor says I need to eat or I’ll get dizzy.”

Bianca.

Chapter 2

She went on, cheerful and careless. “Is your wife still making noise? Labor isn’t even painful. I don’t feel a thing. I could stand up and dance right now if I wanted. She’s probably just being dramatic again.”

Something collapsed in my chest.

Of course she wasn’t in pain.

She was lying on silk sheets in a private suite guarded by men with firearms. Nurses hovering. Doctors smiling at her like she was royalty. Everything warm. Everything safe.

And me?

I was bleeding onto concrete, trapped in a heater room like faulty equipment.

Giovanni exhaled softly, the way he always did when Bianca spoke. Like the world had finally realigned.

“See?” he said to his mother. “She’s fine. Bianca didn’t even feel it. Florence’s always exaggerating.”

Giovanni didn’t even hesitate. The second Bianca spoke, he chose her. Just like always.

His voice came back sharp, cutting, all warmth gone.

“Don’t be stupid, Mom!” he snapped at his mother. “What could possibly happen to her? Florence never does anything that puts her at risk. She’s acting. That’s all this is. She wants sympathy.”

I felt something inside me crack and fall.

“She’s faking it so you’ll open the door,” he continued. “Don’t fall for her tricks.”

Then the line went dead.

Just like that.

I was dismissed. Written off. Left to rot.

Laura stood in the doorway for a moment, silence stretching like a blade. I could almost hear her teeth grinding, sharp and low.

Then she laughed. Soft. Sweet. Poisoned.

“This is your fault,” she said, eyes glittering. “You got me yelled at by my son.”

The heater room pressed in around me, the air thick and stifling, sweat blinding my eyes. The machines hummed, relentless, like they were breathing with her.

She stepped closer, and my stomach plummeted.

In her hands was the monitor lizard—long, exotic, a pale shimmer like it had been sculpted from bone and sunlight. She cradled it like it were a child, her favorite.

“Since you love drama so much,” she said, voice soft, teasing, “let’s make this real.”

Before I could scramble away, she tossed it at me.

It landed on my chest and wrapped around my arm with terrifying ease. Cold scales pressed against my skin, claws digging just enough to warn me it was alive.

I screamed, panic clawing out of me, but the sound barely carried over the roar of the heaters.

The lizard’s weight pressed down, its tail wrapping, curling, probing. Air seemed to leave my lungs. My hands flailed, shaking, instinctively shielding my belly, trying to pull it off.

It snapped at me once. Pain exploded through my arm, white-hot. I recoiled, sobbing, too terrified to touch it again.

I collapsed onto the floor, curling in on myself, trying to shield the baby inside me from the world.

Tears ran into my hair, down my neck, mixing with sweat. I couldn’t wipe them. Couldn’t stop them.

The pain in my belly twisted and climbed, spreading through my ribs, my spine, into my skull. I felt myself fading.

The lizard tightened again, then bit, over and over, deliberate and sharp. My mind went hazy. Pain, fear, heat—it all blurred.

For a second, I thought I saw light. Soft, warm, like something calling me from far away.

Then a sharp whistle cut through the haze.

The monitor lizard slid off me obediently.

Laura stepped closer, crouching down to grab a fistful of my hair and slam my head against the heated metal floor just to see my face.

“You messy little thing,” she sneered, voice shaking with a mix of anger and disappointment. “So dramatic before. Where’s all that screaming now?”

I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t even blink properly.

She snorted, disgust curling her lips. “Let me guess. You finally realized Giovanni won’t save you. So you’ve given up. Quit acting.”

She stood, rolling her eyes, exasperated as if my suffering were a minor inconvenience. “Selfish to the end. You’d never do anything that actually hurts you.”

Her gaze drifted down to the monitor lizard, now still and observing. The light from the heater caught flecks of blood on its scales.

Her face twisted.

She kicked me in the stomach. Hard. My body arched, pain tearing through me so violently I thought my soul would split in two.

“You stupid woman!” she scream, “You hurt my baby! If my lizard dies because of you! I’ll make sure Giovanni throws you out. Bianca is the one he wants anyway. You’re just in the way.”

She leaned down, cruelly smiling, and whispered as if savoring the words.

“And don’t even think you’re taking that baby with you. You don’t deserve it.”

She straightened, turned the dial on the wall. The heaters roared louder, the air thickening, suffocating. Then she walked out, slamming the door behind her.

I started shaking uncontrollably. Violent, agonizing tremors that I couldn’t stop.

In and out of consciousness, something pierced through the haze of heat and pain. A cry.

A baby’s cry.

“Mommy.”

Again.

“Mommy.”

I sobbed onto the scorching floor, chest heaving, apologizing over and over to a child I hadn’t even seen yet. I was so close. I should have been holding my baby today.

Why did it have to be like this?

What kind of world lets a child be born into a family like this?

I screamed until my throat tore open.

Not loud anymore. Just raw. Broken. The kind of sound that comes from knowing no one is coming.

The pain ripped through me, but the heat made it worse. My skin burned from the metal beneath me, sweat stinging my eyes, every contraction twisting my belly like it was being wrung. I pressed my shaking hand to my stomach, stroking it gently like that could somehow protect us.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I really tried.”

If there was another life after this, I hoped my baby wouldn’t choose me again. I hoped it would find parents who actually loved each other. A dad who didn’t lock the mom in a heater room like she was nothing.

My breathing got shallow. Every inhale felt heavier than the last. My blood felt thick, slow, almost molten inside my veins from the heat pressing in.

Then suddenly—

Click.

Light flooded in.

The heater room door opened.

A man froze, staring at me lying in sweat, blood, and exhaustion like I was already discarded.

I dragged myself forward with everything I had left, nails scraping against the metal floor.

“H… help,” I rasped.

Chapter 3

He stumbled back, voice shaking. “Jesus—who are you? What did you do to make Mr. D’Amico get mad this badly?”

Even now, even bleeding, I was being judged.

“I’m…” My lips trembled. “I’m his wife.”

I stretched my hand toward him. Blood smeared the floor.

The diamond ring barely sparkled anymore. Dull. Like me.

“This… this is the ring he gave me,” I whispered. “Custom. One of a kind.”

That finally got to him.

His face went pale. “Wait here.”

He helped me sit up, then hesitated, pulling out his phone.

“Boss,” he said carefully. “I was checking inventory. Your wife is locked in the heater room. She’s bleeding badly. Should I call an ambulance?”

There was a pause.

Then Giovanni’s voice, distant and cold.

“Bleeding? From what? Did she hurt Laura’s lizard? Figures. That thing’s Laura’s baby.”

My chest tightened.

Then his voice went even sharper, colder. “Don’t take her anywhere. She’s fine. She’s acting. I’ll deal with her later.”

Click.

The call ended.

The man stared at his phone for a long second, then looked at me.

I knew that look.

Fear of the D’Amicos always won.

He turned and walked past me.

I closed my eyes. That was it.

But minutes later, I heard footsteps again.

He came back, jaw tight, muttering to himself.

“You’re pregnant,” he said, voice low, almost a whisper. “My wife is too. If I left you here… I’d never forgive myself.”

He didn’t wait for permission.

He lifted me up, wrapped his jacket around me, and called for an ambulance with hands that shook as much as mine.

When the sirens finally came, I exhaled for the first time in what felt like years.

I was alive.

Barely.

But when they rushed me into the hospital, reality slammed me again. No delivery room. No equipment. No bed.

The D’Amico family had already reserved everything. Even at the hospital… I still wasn’t allowed to give birth.

Giovanni had already sealed the city shut. Worried something might go wrong with Bianca’s delivery, he pulled strings through the syndicate and quietly reserved every usable machine in the hospital. Every operating room. Every emergency unit. Nothing left for anyone else.

One look at me was enough for the doctor to decide. Staying meant death.

She grabbed my phone, scrolled, and stopped at the contact marked ‘My Hubby’. She dialed while nurses rushed around me.

“This is a doctor,” she said fast, voice urgent. “Florence D’Ameco is in critical condition. There’s a high risk of fatal complications. You need to come now.”

Giovanni’s voice came through sharp and irritated.

“So you really crawled out,” he said. “And now you’re bribing doctors to act for you?”

He didn’t pause.

“I’m not coming back. I know your body. You’re fine. Stay where you are and stop embarrassing me.”

The call ended.

The doctor didn’t say anything. She just looked at me, then turned away and told her colleague to prepare a transfer. There was nothing else she could do.

When I realized where they were taking me, I almost laughed.

Bianca’s hospital.

The doctor tried one last time to reason with Giovanni. I heard him through the wall, his voice flat and final.

“I don’t care who else needs it. Bianca comes first. I won’t risk her life for anyone.”

My strength drained out of me and I slid down against the wall, numb.

That was when I saw him.

Giovanni’s secretary stood at the end of the hall, staring at me like he’d seen a ghost. He hesitated, then turned and hurried away.

“Sir,” he said quietly, “there’s a pregnant woman outside. She’s covered in blood. It looks like it might be Mrs. D’Amico.”

Giovanni didn’t even lift his head.

“That’s impossible,” he replied. “In her condition, she couldn’t get here.”

The secretary lowered his voice.

“Maybe you should check. If it really is her—”

Giovanni’s eyes hardened.

“If it were her, she’d already be screaming about money. She’d never let herself end up like that.”

The doctor kept pushing. Giovanni threatened her career.

She came back out a moment later and apologized to me, eyes full of regret. There was truly nothing she could do.

But I was no longer locked in the heater room. As long as I could breathe, I wasn’t giving up.

I held my belly with one hand and borrowed the doctor’s phone with the other. My fingers shook as I dialed a number I had sworn never to use again.

“Dad,” I whispered. “Please help me. I won’t disobey you anymore.”

Chapter 4

He didn’t ask why. He didn’t question my voice.

He only asked where I was.

I broke down the moment I heard him.

Fifteen minutes later, the sound of helicopter blades cut through the air. A private chopper landed on the roof, doors opening before it fully stopped. Doctors moved with precision, calm and fast.

They lifted me inside.

The helicopter was a flying medical unit, fully equipped, lights bright and steady.

For the first time since marrying into the D’Amico family, I felt like I might survive.

The doctors worked fast, moving like they knew every second mattered, scalpels cutting across my swollen belly, pain stabbing through me even with the anesthesia.

Time blurred.

Finally, someone exhaled. “She’s out.”

I waited for a cry, any sound from my baby, but there was nothing.

My chest tightened like someone had stabbed me. I could barely whisper through tears, “Is… is my baby okay?”

One of the doctors pressed me gently back against the bed. “It’s not looking good. We need to get her to the island for proper treatment.”

I nodded, too numb to argue, my body trembling from everything I’d endured.

As the helicopter lifted off, I reached for my father’s aide. “What about… Giovanni? He’ll come looking, right?”

He squeezed my hand, calm. “Don’t worry. Your father’s got it all covered.”

I wished I could believe him.

I saw him then, Giovanni, standing outside the operating room like a shadow over everything, eyes scanning like a hawk. He barely blinked when the doors opened, first words sharp and mocking.

“And Bianca… she’s okay, right? Can’t have anything happen to my little golden girl.”

He stepped inside, scooped her up, and held her close, smiling like a proud father. “Look at you, sweet pea. Pretty, huh? Just like your mama. Too bad someone else’s kid can’t compete.”

He paused, then laughed low, cruel. “Wonder who Florence’s kid will even look like? Probably like her, huh? Poor thing, stuck with a mother who can’t even survive a heater.”

After rocking the baby to sleep, he straightened and started leaving, already thinking ahead. Tomorrow, he’d go back to fetch me.

Then he saw his secretary waiting, white-knuckled and stiff. He tossed him the car keys without a word.

“Go,” he said. “Bring her in. The wife and the kid. No excuses.”

The secretary didn’t move. Fear made him rooted to the spot.

Giovanni’s patience snapped. “What, too scared to move? You’re not gonna make me mad, are you?”

Finally, the secretary stammered, voice trembling like a scared kid. “Mr… Mrs. D’Amico… and the baby… they’re… gone.”

Giovanni laughed, low and dark, like he was mocking a rival boss. “Gone? Really? You sound like you’re telling me a bad joke. Guess even my wife can’t get her act together, huh?”

But his secretary cried, “Boss, here's the report. They really died.”