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

The pain was unbearable and I could not straighten my back, curling up on the marble floor of the club's private room instead.

"I'm really going to give birth. The baby's only seven months old, it's very dangerous. This is your baby too. Please, let me go to the clinic..."

An intense pain surged through my stomach. I was not sure if the fall had harmed the baby.

For the sake of the child in my belly, I swallowed my pride, reached out, grabbed the leg of his tailored trousers and begged in desperation.

"Give me your phone. I'll call for the car myself. Please..."

"This is your own flesh and blood."

Lorenzo kicked me aside and sneered at the carpet soaked in amniotic fluid with disgust, twisting the heavy gold signet ring on his pinky.

The pain drained all my strength, leaving me collapsed on the floor like a lifeless animal.

Lorenzo crouched down, pinching my neck. His voice was colder than ever.

"Why are you pretending? You're so addicted to acting. If I don't teach you a lesson today, you'll think you can sit on my head and piss on me forever."

"Put her in the toilet," he ordered.

"Get two of the boys to clean the carpet. It's disgusting to look at."

Two of his lowest soldiers seized my arms and dragged me toward one of the toilets off the private room. The music outside swallowed the sound.

I screamed for help, my voice weak. "Call the clinic, please, someone call for the car..."

The young hostess who had been pouring the drinks looked concerned and spoke softly.

"Mr. Moretti, she really doesn't look well. Maybe we should just let her go, no? She's pregnant, after all."

Vince grabbed the girl's hair and slapped her across the face, cracking the knuckles of his free hand against his palm. "What's it to you? Who are you to question what a made man decides?"

The girl did not dare to argue, offering only a nervous smile.

Several of the older comares laughed at her.

"Sis, you're still too green. These are the tricks that wives use to keep a man on a leash. Believe me, if Mr. Moretti sends her home, she'll be fine in no time."

Gemma was full of herself, pretending to offer advice. "Mrs. Moretti, Lorenzo is doing this for your own good. He just wants you to stay in the toilet and clean up so you don't shame him in front of the crew."

She twisted her graceful waist and settled back onto Lorenzo's lap, turning to look at me. With a silent smirk, she touched the hollow of her throat as if overcome, then flaunted her victory.

"You lose."

Outside the door, there was music and laughter while I was left behind, isolated and defeated.

I sat on the cold tile, my back against the wall and slapped the door with all the strength I could muster.

"Help…"

The door closed and my small cry was abruptly silenced.

Pain coursed through my body like a thousand iron nails driven in. I thought of the lessons from the pregnancy classes.

The contractions were coming faster now. I focused on my breathing, trying to keep calm and deliver the baby on my own.

Calm down, Serafina Vitale, you can do this.

Your baby needs you.

Tears mixed with sweat as I screamed, almost losing my voice.

The lower part of my abdomen felt as though it was being torn apart. The air was thick with the smell of blood, sharper than gunpowder, closing in around me like the Omertà that no one in that room would break for me.

I had no idea how much time had passed, but the pain only worsened each second.

It hurt so much... the baby could not come out.

Panic set in, my heart racing. I gritted my teeth and felt the blood pooling beneath me on the cold tile.

With trembling hands, I scrawled on the frosted glass of the toilet door.

[SOS]

I slapped bloody handprints onto the door, desperate for anyone outside to notice.

A soldier who had just stepped out of the adjacent toilet froze in shock and shouted loudly.

"Lorenzo, something feels so wrong!"

"There's blood on the toilet door. Your wife might really be giving birth!"

When I heard someone finally recognize the danger, a glimmer of hope sparked within me.

My baby, please hold on.

Lorenzo, drunk and indifferent, laughed a half-beat too loud and sneered.

"What's with the blood? She must've snuck in a bottle of red. How could a seven-month baby come now? She's just acting."

The man hesitated, fear creeping into his voice as he tried again to persuade.

"Lorenzo, why don't you open the door and take a look first? Don't be afraid of the worst, but be cautious about what might happen."

Lorenzo remained indifferent and Gemma cooed softly from his arms. "Serafina has pulled this before, demanding Lorenzo throw me out of the crew. You don't know her. She's just sore because Lorenzo didn't spend the Family's night with her, and now she's causing trouble."

The man outside the door fell silent, no longer insisting. In this world a soldier did not push past a made man's word twice. My hope flickered, then began to fade.

The sharp pain in my stomach snapped me back to reality.

No. I can't give up.

My dear, Mommy will save you.

With trembling hands, I removed my coat and scrawled a message for help on it with my bloodied fingers.

Summoning every ounce of strength, I struggled to climb onto the toilet, pushed open the small ventilation window above and attempted to throw my coat out into the alley.

But the agony made it impossible to straighten my back. My clothes got stuck.

I bit my lip, fighting back tears and finally managed to throw the coat out.

Just then, the sole of my foot slipped and I fell backward with a loud sound.

Bang! The noise jolted the people outside.

My vision blurred and I faintly heard Lorenzo's voice.

"Serafina..."