He Made Me Carry His Mistress's Baby, So I Delivered a Divorce Instead

"Tesoro, they were only joking with you. You take everything too seriously."

I jerked my hand out of his grip, cold.

"Enjoy yourselves. I'm going up to rest."

I'd barely turned for the staircase when Dario pressed a glass of milk into my hand. Around us the made men of his table went on laughing, but his eyes had gone steady and watchful, the way a Don's eyes go before an order.

"Drink this first. It's for the calcium. Finish it, then you can go rest."

Something in me shuddered at the sight of that milk in his hand.

"What are you trying to do?"

"I just worry about you running low on calcium this late in the pregnancy. I want you to keep your strength up. Don't you even trust your own husband?"

He still wore that look of tender concern, the same one he wore for men he was about to bury.

I pushed the glass away.

"I don't want it."

His face cooled fast. The warmth drained out of it like color out of the dead.

"I've already done enough for you tonight. This is for your own good. Drink it."

"Dario, don't be so harsh. She's allowed to say no. She's still pregnant, after all. You should give her a little room." Carmela drifted over right on cue, her laugh arriving a half-second late, then placed a cup of hot water in my hand. "Elena, have some warm water instead."

I closed my hand around the cup and looked down at the clear water inside.

"If I drink this, can I go up and rest?"

I drank it down in one swallow.

The warm water slid down my throat, and almost at once my body began to burn, as if a thousand insects were crawling over me, gnawing into my skin.

"What did you give me?"

The words were barely out before my legs went heavy as lead, and my body folded soft into a stranger's arms.

My vision swam. All I could make out was Bruno's vile face leering down at me, his right hand already cracking its knuckles one finger at a time before it began to roam over my body.

"Carmela, you're the ruthless one. Afraid the photos wouldn't be enough to keep her in line, so you just drug her and make her throw herself at us. Even if she finds out about the bloodline scheme, with this hanging over her head she won't dare breathe a word. Omertà will hold her better than any oath. She'll be yours to handle however you like."

"Get off me."

The last shred of clarity in me screamed it.

But there was no strength left in my limbs. I could only turn to Dario, hoping to wake some last trace of conscience in him.

One arm wrapped around Carmela, he gave me a cold, indifferent glance, then looked at Bruno.

"Go easy on her, all of you. She's still carrying. That's mine and Carmela's child."

Bruno's hands kept wandering, never still.

"Relax, we know our limits. Not a scratch on your heir, promise."

With that, Bruno scooped me up and carried me toward the stairs.

I looked at Dario, hollowed out.

"You'll regret this."

"That water had more than something to stir you up. I slipped an anesthetic in too. It makes you forget the most painful things. When you wake tomorrow, you'll still be Dario's loyal little lapdog."

Carmela finished, smug, and raised her wine glass, the crystal catching the low light like something edged.

"Sweet dreams tonight."

The next second my world went black.

In that dark I only felt something tearing at me, ripping me until there was almost nothing left to tear.

When I came to, I was lying naked on the floor, blood pouring out in wide dark sheets beneath me.

"Help me."

I dragged myself to the door and pounded on it.

Laughter rolled in from the other side, the careless laughter of men who had broken too many things to count.

"Quit the act. A minute ago you were moaning louder than anyone. Just sleep it off. By tomorrow you won't remember a thing."

Then Dario's voice.

"Well, the real business is done. On to the next round."

A door slammed somewhere with a heavy bang, sealing me alone inside the despair.

I forced the door open and crawled out. Bright red blood trailed behind me, twisting into a path down the floor, the kind of sight that turned the stomach.

I crawled all the way downstairs before I reached my phone and called the doctor the Family kept on a quiet retainer, the one who asked no questions.

When I woke again I was in a private room thick with the smell of antiseptic, the kind of room the Family paid for off the books.

"Mrs. Conti, we couldn't save your baby. How would you like the body handled?"

The nurse looked at me with pity.

I looked at what she held out, not a ripple in me. My hand found my wedding ring and turned it once, a slow half-circle, and then went still.

"Send it to him by courier."

Dario and the others rolled home after a careless night out, the kind of night men in the life never expect to answer for.

They opened the door to a trail of blood, stark and twisting, leading from upstairs all the way into the sitting room.

"What the hell? Elena?"

Dario went up the stairs fast, like a man gone mad. The room held nothing but a great pool of blood. Not a soul.

Right then the doorbell rang.

"Good evening. Don Conti? There's a delivery for you. We'll need you to sign for it in person."