His Body Craved Mine, His Heart Chose Me

I didn't cry as I walked out of the auction house, but my chest felt like a gaping black hole.

My mind was a loop of Dante's words as I stumbled down the stairs.

Just then, a young man in a waiter's uniform rushed past, a tray in his hands. He slammed his shoulder into me.

"Ah!"

I shrieked as I lost my balance and tumbled down the stairs.

A dull thud shot through my back, followed by a sharp cramp in my stomach.

I lay on the cold ground, my vision blurring. Through the haze, I thought I saw Dante bursting through the doors.

On the other side of the room, Ava cried out and sank to the floor, clutching her ankle. "Dante… my ankle… it hurts so much…"

I saw Dante's gaze whip between us. He hesitated for only a second before striding toward Ava.

"Damn it, how could you be so clumsy?" He scooped her up, his voice tight with worry. "I'm taking you to the hospital." He didn't even glance back as he left.

Beneath me, a warm pool of liquid was spreading, staining the white marble red.

"Ma'am! Ma'am, you're bleeding!" a server screamed.

Then, everything went black.

I woke up in the hospital, a sharp pain still tearing at my abdomen.

Dante stood by my bed, his expression a mix of pity and something I couldn't read. "Elara, you were pregnant."

"What?" I couldn't believe it.

I had once dreamed of having a child with Dante. But of course, it had to happen now, after I knew he didn't love me.

And the worst part—

“You lost the baby. The fall was too severe.”

"No, no…" I could barely breathe. "There has to be a way, Dante. You have to save our baby."

I grabbed his hand, my grip desperate.

But he just shook his head, his voice cold. “You need to accept it. Maybe this baby was never meant to be.”

He turned to the door. "Doctor, take her for the procedure."

"I don't want to—"

Doctors and nurses swarmed in, holding down my arms and legs.

Dante just watched, a bystander to my struggle.

I knew then. He didn't love me, so he felt nothing for our child.

I was awake for the whole thing.

I felt something being taken from my body.

When I came to, Dante was still in the room.

I just stared at him in silence.

He stepped forward, reaching out as if to wipe the sweat from my brow.

I turned my head away.

It was the first time his touch felt revolting.

His voice was quiet. "The doctor said the surgery was a success."

Success? Succeeded in killing our child?

"I've dealt with the man who bumped into you. As compensation, I can cede the North District's turf to the Romano family," he continued. "It's worth a billion. That should be enough to cover this loss."

"I don't want your territory." My voice was a raw whisper. "I just want you to answer one question."

"What?"

"When I was hurt, why did you choose Ava?" I stared into his eyes. "Aren't I your wife?"

Dante froze, and then his face hardened.

"So that's what this is about." He dropped my hand. "It was an accident, Elara. Ava is fragile, she needs to be taken care of. If you're still not satisfied, I can add to the compensation."

A bitter laugh escaped my lips, a tribute to the child I’d lost.

A child who was clearly less important than that girl's ankle.

"Be rational, Elara," Dante said, standing up and adjusting his cuffs. "Our marriage is a political alliance. Let's not complicate it with emotions."

He paused at the door. "And one more thing. I want you to keep the pregnancy quiet. Marrying you already hurt Ava. If she knew you were pregnant, she would be devastated."

So that was his real goal.

I smiled, a dead, empty smile. "As you wish."

"Fine," I whispered, turning my face to the wall. "Just go."

Dante frowned but finally turned and walked toward the door.

"I'll have the best doctors and nurses sent to look after you. Get some rest."

As he stepped out, I heard him speak into his phone, his voice suddenly soft. "Ava? What is it, baby? Don't cry, I'm on my way…"

A week later, I was discharged.

For seven days, Dante never showed up. A nurse mentioned that someone sent the best food and fresh flowers every day, but it was never him.

I knew what he was busy with. Busy comforting his Ava, busy giving her all the tenderness I had craved.

The mansion was the same: cold and opulent.

I pushed open the door to Dante's study.

This was his sanctuary, filled with his collection of antiques and art. Trophies on the shelves, photos with politicians on the walls.

And our wedding photo.

In the picture, I was radiant in a white gown, smiling brightly. Dante, in his sharp suit, looked impassive, but he at least played the part of a dutiful husband.

We looked so perfect.

It was all a lie.

I grabbed a crystal vase from his desk and hurled it at the bookshelf with all my might. The shattering sound echoed in the silent room.

Then another. And another.

I destroyed every one of his precious collectibles, tore every photo from the wall. Finally, I stood before our wedding portrait, staring at the naive girl in the picture.

"You're such a fool, Elara," I whispered to the bride, before ripping the photo to shreds.