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I Gave Him Seven Years, He Gave Me a Coffin Instead of a Child Novel Cover

I Gave Him Seven Years, He Gave Me a Coffin Instead of a Child

Serafina is seven months pregnant when her husband, Lorenzo, betrays her with Gemma, a delicate courier in his mafia crew. Catching them together at a Family club on New Year's Eve, Serafina's confrontation is met with cold cruelty. Lorenzo defends his infidelity, and when the stress causes her water to break, Gemma dismisses it as a dramatic stunt. Punished for ruining his night, Serafina is locked in a bathroom for three days, leading to a devastating and irreversible tragedy.
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Chapter 3

Thrown off balance, I fell heavily to the floor of the club's private back room. My swollen body made even the simplest attempt to get up pitifully slow.

The room erupted into laughter at my expense, the crew of soldiers sprawled across the leather banquettes howling like the night was just getting good.

"Lorenzo, doesn't your wife look like a turtle flipped on its back?"

"A fat turtle, at that! Hahaha."

My eyes burned with unshed tears. Embarrassment surged through me, but before I could process it, a sharp pain shot through my stomach.

A warm, wet sensation spread beneath me and I looked down in alarm.

The carpet under me was soaked.

This can't be…

Panic seized me as I instinctively reached out for Lorenzo.

"Lorenzo, please take me to the clinic right now!"

"My water broke!"

The haze of liquor seemed to lift from his eyes.

He stood up in a panic and a flicker of regret crossed his expression.

"Don't be afraid, honey. I'll take you to the clinic right away."

But before he could act, Gemma's mocking voice cut through the smoke.

"I really envy Mrs. Moretti. No matter what lies she tells, Lorenzo always believes her without question."

Lorenzo shoved off Gemma's white hands wrapped around his waist, his voice cold and sharp. "Get away from me. If anything happens to my wife, it'll be on your head."

Gemma collapsed onto the sofa with exaggerated delicacy. Despite his harsh words, she persisted, her foot clad in red silk brushing against his calf flirtatiously.

"Lorenzo, don't you see? Mrs. Moretti just got overexcited and wet herself. How could her water break at only seven months? Her due date isn't even close." Her fingers drifted to the hollow of her throat, as if the cruelty of it all moved her.

Upon hearing that, every made man in the room clicked his tongue and shook his head with disgust.

"I've heard pregnant women have incontinence. So that's what it looks like."

"She can't even control her own water. No wonder Lorenzo found someone else."

Lorenzo, who had just reached for me, froze. His initial panic gave way to a sigh of relief.

The pity in his eyes turned to anger, then disgust. Without a word, he grabbed a nearby pillow and hurled it at me.

"Whether it's disgusting or not, you'll stoop to any low just to win favor!"

"No, I'm really going into labor. My stomach... it hurts..."

Lorenzo looked down at me, writhing on the ground, his eyes cold and his voice laced with mockery.

"You're quite the actress. If it weren't for Gemma snapping me out of it, I might have actually fallen for your tricks." He turned the heavy gold signet on his pinky and laughed, a half-beat too loud, the way he always did when the men were watching.

Gemma's face lit up with glee. She threw herself into Lorenzo's arms, her tone sickeningly sweet as she cooed, "Hmph... I'm your clever, sweet personal assistant, after all."

My voice trembled as waves of pain coursed through me.

"Help me... the baby... save the baby... please, someone call the clinic!"

Vince scoffed, cracking the knuckles of one hand slow against his palm. "Lorenzo, your wife is willing to do anything, even make such a mess. All this drama is just a waste of good doctors."

Gemma chimed in, adding fuel to the fire. "Mrs. Moretti, if word gets out that the wife of Lorenzo Moretti wet herself in front of the whole crew, do you think Lorenzo will still have his standing? You're so inconsiderate."

The suffocating smell of cigarette smoke in the room mixed with the ache in my heart.

I realized, bitterly, that there was no one in this room bound to me by anything that would save me.

Ignoring the excruciating pain in my stomach, I gritted my teeth and crawled toward my handbag, lying just out of reach. My phone was inside, and I would save myself.

Their laughter followed me, cruel and unrelenting.

"Lorenzo, your wife should be on a stage somewhere. Her acting is on point!"

"Yeah, Lorenzo, go on and coax her. How can we enjoy ourselves if she keeps putting on this peeing act?"

Sweat drenched my body and strands of damp hair clung to my forehead.

Ignoring the ridicule of these scumbags, I finally grasped the phone in my bag.

But the moment I tried to press the dial with trembling hands, Lorenzo stepped on my hand and kicked the phone out of reach.

"That's enough! Are you insane? You really think you can pull a doctor across the city over this nonsense, especially on a holy night like this?"

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