His Atonement, Our Freedom

With Cassandra's help, I finally stumbled into the passenger seat. I had just fastened my seatbelt when an out-of-control heavy-duty truck barreled toward us.

I didn't have time to react. All I could do was use every ounce of my strength to shove Cassandra across the console, out of the direct line of impact.

The world dissolved into a nightmare of shrieking metal. I was trapped. Almost immediately, a warm gush spread between my legs, and I felt our child, the Grimaldi heir, slipping away from me.

I trembled all over, wanting to scream for help, but no sound would come. Tears blurred my vision.

In the haze of unconsciousness, I heard Cassandra's frantic sobs and Julian Grimaldi's snarling voice.

"Cut the crap, Cassandra!" Julian roared. "So, you invent a car crash whenever I'm with Seraphina?"

"Seriously? A car crash? That's ridiculous. Do you have any idea how low the chances of an 'accident' like that are on our own turf?"

"I'm warning you. Stay away from that crazy friend of yours! Don't be a drama queen like her. Seraphina is unstable right now, and I'm calming her down. Don't bother me!"

In the end, it was a passing Soldato who called it in, summoning the family's private medical team that rushed Cassandra and me to the clinic.

…

Although Cassandra and I both survived, we lost our children forever.

I glanced at Cassandra, who was clutching her phone tightly. The surgery had left her deathly pale.

"I'm sorry. I never thought Julian could be so cruel," she whispered, fresh tears tracing paths down her cheeks.

The delay cost me dearly. I was forced into a high-risk emergency surgery, and in the end, my uterus had to be removed.

Julian, however, was convinced Cassandra was just jealous of Seraphina. He dismissed her pleas as lies, blamed her for the drama, and refused to authorize the surgery.

I could never have a child of my own again.

I sighed. Just as I was about to speak, a call came in from Julian.

"Are you insane? Yesterday it was a car crash, today you're claiming a miscarriage? What's next? Threatening suicide tomorrow?"

"Worse, now you're threatening to leave the family. You've learned all the wrong things from Evelyn, nothing but her manipulative games!"

Julian continued, "If I didn't have to help Seraphina clean up the mess our rivals left, I'd come over there and teach you both a lesson!

"Donovan's already under enough pressure as the Underboss. Not only is Evelyn unsupportive, but she creates drama every day. Honestly, they should just separate. Having a woman like her as my sister-in-law makes me sick!"

The call ended abruptly.

I looked at Cassandra. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her body trembling uncontrollably.

I reached out and covered her hand with mine. "Don't listen to him. Get some rest. We're leaving this place together when this is over."

In an instant, Cassandra's composure shattered, and a fresh wave of sobs shook her body.

Seeing her tear-streaked face, I couldn't help but cry too. The arranged marriage we believed would be our salvation had instead dragged us both into this hell.

Ever since Seraphina was taken in by Donovan as a spoil of war after a rival family's fall and diagnosed with severe trauma, the Grimaldi brothers had revolved around her every waking moment.

Donovan even delegated many family affairs to his subordinates just to personally "treat" Seraphina.

He called her every night to help her sleep, his deep voice a soothing balm for her fragile nerves.

Meanwhile, I was suffering from severe morning sickness. I could barely sleep, but he said I was overreacting.

"The other family women get through it just fine. Why are you so much trouble?" Donovan had once snapped.

He would take Seraphina to the opera and to exclusive clubs but denied my simple request for a walk in the manor gardens.

"Don't you have Cassandra? Seraphina only has Julian and me."

I grew anxious watching my body change during pregnancy. Not long after, I was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

But when Donovan found out, he shot me an impatient glare, spitting the words out with barely concealed disgust. "Seraphina has trauma, and now you're copying her? Evelyn, do you really think it's fun to pretend to be sick?" Copying her? My diagnosis was a game to him.