He Chose the Wrong Daughter

Elena POV

A week passed. The papers were ready to be served.

My phone rang. It was the headmaster of Sofia's elite private academy.

I arrived at the school and found Sofia sitting in the office. Her face was bruised, and her arms were covered in scratches.

The headmaster nervously wiped sweat from his brow. He explained that Sofia had brought a family photo to class for a project. Another student named Gia claimed the man in the photo was her father. It had started a violent brawl.

Horror washed over me. Julian had placed his bastard child in the exact same exclusive school as his legitimate heir.

I slammed my hands on the desk. I demanded the school expel Gia immediately. I threatened to pull all Moretti funding and protection from the academy.

The headmaster nodded frantically.

At that moment, the office door swung open, and Selina stepped inside.

She immediately started crying. She played the victim, loudly accusing me of bullying a sick child.

I recognized the cheap perfume. She used to be a bottle girl at one of Julian's underground clubs. He had elevated her from the gutter.

I strode up to her. I yanked the silk collar of her dress down, and the sharp crack of the slap drowned out the hum of the hallway's exhaust fan. The red mark blooming on her cheek perfectly covered her cheap layer of concealer.

I told her I was the legitimate wife. I told her a mistress had no right to speak in my presence.

Selina's eyes flashed with anger. She shoved me hard in the chest. I stumbled backward and hit the marble floor.

Heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway. Julian walked in, flanked by four of his deadliest soldiers.

He did not look at me on the floor. He walked straight to Selina and shielded her and Gia with his body. He barked an order for me to apologize.

Sofia jumped off her chair and stood in front of me. She fiercely defended me. She refused to apologize, screaming that Gia had attacked her first.

Julian stared at his legitimate daughter in shock.

Selina grabbed his arm. She cried about how they were always treated like trash by the real family. She manipulated his twisted protective instincts flawlessly.

Julian looked down at Sofia. He ordered her to apologize to his mistress.

Sofia shoved the Don away. She screamed no and ran out of the office.

Julian turned to chase her.

Before he could move, Gia suddenly gasped for air and collapsed onto the floor.

Julian scooped the unconscious girl up, his face going pale. He ordered his soldiers to track down Sofia at all costs. He ran out of the building with the child in his arms.

I found Sofia hiding inside a plastic tube in a quiet, overgrown corner of the academy's botanical gardens. She was crying, asking if her father was abandoning us.

I choked back a sob and pulled her into my arms. I promised her that I would protect her no matter what the Boss did.

We walked toward the parking lot, intent on escape.

Four armed soldiers stepped out from behind my car. They blocked our path.

"The Boss requests your presence," the lead soldier said, his tone leaving no room for refusal.

They escorted us to a hidden underground mafia clinic beneath the city. The air smelled of bleach and copper.

I found Julian standing outside an operating room. I furiously confronted him.

Julian turned to me. His eyes were red. He broke down and tried to embrace me.

He confessed that Gia had leukemia. He had secretly run a blood compatibility test weeks ago, when Gia's symptoms first appeared, using Sofia's medical records from the family physician. The preliminary screen showed a potential match. Now, he demanded that Sofia be the stem cell donor—a procedure that, unlike a full bone marrow harvest, could be done through a peripheral blood draw, requiring only sedation rather than deep anesthesia. But the underground clinic was ill-equipped for pediatric care. And Sofia's congenital heart defect made even sedation a lethal gamble.

I screamed that putting her under in an unsterile underground clinic could kill her.

Julian's face hardened. The grieving father vanished, and the ruthless Don returned.

A few dark figures closed in at his gesture. Without a word, the iron door to the outside was pulled shut, followed by the grating screech of a gurney's wheels on tile, signaling the start of the forced procedure. He forbade anyone to release me until it was done.

The soldiers grabbed Sofia. She screamed for me. She kicked and fought, but her small body quickly gave out. Her face turned a terrifying shade of pale, her breathing growing ragged and shallow as her heart defect flared under the immense strain. Her lips took on a faint bluish tint as they pried her out of my arms and pinned me to the cold tile floor.

I cursed him. I screamed about his vows. I screamed that he was sacrificing his own blood for a whore's child.

Julian looked away. His guilt was masked by cold resolve. He claimed he had no choice, promising we would be a perfect family once Gia was saved.

I fought like a wild animal. I clawed at the soldiers.

A heavy blow struck the back of my head. The sterile lights faded into pure darkness.

I woke up on a cot. My head throbbed with agonizing pain. The heavy metal door to my cell was unlocked.

I stumbled out into the hidden corridors. I screamed Sofia's name until my throat bled.

I turned a corner and ran straight into Julian. He was standing next to a pale, frantic Selina. She was clinging to his arm, trembling violently as she waited for news.

A terrifying chill gripped my spine. I demanded to know where my daughter was.

Silence filled the hallway.

The underground doctor stepped out of the operating room. He pulled his surgical mask down. He refused to meet my eyes.

"I am sorry, Boss," the doctor murmured. "The child didn't survive."

I backed away. My shoulders hit the concrete wall. My mind violently rejected the reality of his words.

I lunged forward and grabbed the doctor's bloody coat. I shook him.

The doctor simply bowed his head.

When the doctor's words fell, I felt no immediate pain. The fluorescent lights in the corridor just seemed to dim to an abrasive grey, and it was only when I tried to take a step forward that my knees, as if drained of all marrow, gave way against the wall. I coughed up blood onto the floor and collapsed into the abyss.

But what I did not know—what I would not learn until three days later—was that the doctor had not been talking about my daughter. The child who died on that table was Gia. And Sofia was still alive.