Divorcing the Mafia Heir

Aria's POV

Ice flooded my veins the second he mentioned the orphanage again.

He knew exactly where to strike. That building wasn’t just charity work funded by dirty money. It was my father’s last clean legacy in a world soaked in blood. He had built it long before alliances with the Russo family, before power hardened him completely. The children there were the only innocent thing left in my life.

“You wouldn’t dare,” I whispered, though my voice betrayed me.

Enzo stepped closer until I could feel the heat of his anger. His mouth twisted, not into doubt, but into challenge. “Test me.”

For a moment I simply stared at him. This was the man I had once trusted with every fragile piece of myself. The man who had promised to protect what I loved. Now he was threatening to burn it down.

My hand drifted to my stomach again. Silent tears slipped down my cheeks.

When he grabbed my wrist and started pulling me toward Camilla’s wing of the hospital, I didn’t fight this time. I followed, numb, the threat echoing in my ears.

He had secured a private VIP suite for her, the kind reserved for politicians and cartel leaders. Camilla lay on the hospital bed surrounded by machines that beeped steadily, an IV line running into her arm. She looked pale, eyes closed, lips slightly parted as though she were barely conscious.

Enzo rushed to her instantly.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice softening in a way I hadn’t heard directed at me in months. He clasped her hand gently. “You’re going to be fine. I brought Aria.”

Camilla let out a weak, trembling sound. “Enzo… it hurts… everything hurts…”

I stood near the door, watching my husband bend over her with tenderness that felt like a knife twisting inside my ribs. He brushed her hair away from her face, murmuring reassurances.

Then he turned to call for the doctor.

The second his back was to her, Camilla’s eyelids fluttered open.

One eye.

She looked straight at me.

And she winked.

A slow, deliberate wink, followed by the faintest curve of her lips.

My blood roared in my ears.

Was this entire spectacle a performance? Was I about to risk my child for an act staged by a woman who enjoyed humiliating me?

Rage tightened my fists.

I stepped forward, ready to expose her, but Enzo’s hand shot out and gripped mine hard enough to bruise. His fingers dug into my skin in silent warning. His stare was sharp, unmistakable.

Don’t.

The memory of his threat regarding the orphanage snapped me back into place.

The door opened again, and a physician entered. Enzo moved toward her immediately.

“She’s deteriorating,” he said. “Start the transfusion.”

The doctor checked the monitors calmly. “Her vitals are stable for now. We can delay until we confirm—”

Camilla whimpered louder.

Enzo’s patience snapped. “The donor is here,” he said curtly, gesturing toward me as if I were nothing more than medical equipment.

The doctor’s gaze shifted to me briefly before she nodded and instructed the nurses to prepare.

Cold sweat trickled down my back as I watched them ready the tray. I had always hated needles. Enzo knew that. In the past, he would have stood beside me, holding my hand, distracting me until it was over.

For a fleeting second, he looked at me as though he remembered that too. His hand hovered near mine.

Then Camilla made another fragile sound.

Enzo withdrew instantly and returned to her bedside, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as though I had ceased to exist.

Something inside my chest tightened painfully.

I turned my face away as the nurse approached with the needle. My stomach churned with fear—not of the injection, but of what it might cost.

Please, I begged silently. Please let something stop this.

Just as the doctor lifted the needle toward my arm, the door burst open.

“Stop!”

Another physician hurried inside, holding a file, breathless.

Everyone froze.

He looked directly at Enzo. “Mrs. Russo is pregnant.”

The doctor holding the needle paused mid-motion and stepped back.

Enzo stared at the newcomer as though he had spoken nonsense. “That’s impossible.”

“She was scheduled for a termination this morning,” the doctor continued quickly, holding out the chart. “She canceled. The test results are here.”

Enzo took the file, scanning it with narrowed eyes.

Relief flooded me so suddenly my knees nearly gave out. Proof. Finally, proof that I hadn’t lied. That I wasn’t inventing stories to escape responsibility.

I exhaled for what felt like the first time in hours.

Then Enzo closed the file.

His voice, when he spoke, was colder than I had ever heard it.

“Proceed.”

The word didn’t register at first.

My eyes widened slowly. “What did you say?”

He didn’t look at me.

“I said take the blood.”