Bleeding to Death, Yet my Mafia Husband Still Disregarded His Heir

Before I could even process what was happening, the observation glass shattered. It exploded inward, raining down like jagged diamonds.

Beatrice shrieked, a high, piercing sound, as the shards tore into her arms and face. She collapsed to the floor, sobbing and clutching her bleeding cheeks.

Through the thick smoke, a shadow moved. A man in a dark suit. I couldn't see his face. He didn't speak. He just stepped up to the surgical table, took a combat knife, and sliced through the thick leather straps binding my wrists and ankles.

Then, he pointed to the open door and vanished into the chaos.

I didn't wait. I didn't look back at Beatrice crying on the floor.

I slid off the table, my legs buckling, but the pure, animal instinct to save my baby forced me upright. I stumbled through the smoke, up the hidden stairwell, and out into the freezing, pouring rain.

I ran until my lungs burned. Until my bare feet bled on the asphalt.

There was only one place I could go. One person in this entire rotten city who actually cared if I lived or died.

Harold. When he opened his apartment door, he took one look at my pale, blood-stained hospital gown and caught me before I hit the floor.

“Elena! My god, what did he do to you?”

He carried me to the guest room. He brought me warm blankets, water, and locked every door. For the first time in months, I closed my eyes and actually felt safe.

But the safety didn't last.

I woke up hours later to my phone vibrating violently on the nightstand.

99 missed calls.

All from Raphael.

My hands shook as I picked it up. Before I could even unlock the screen, another call came through. I answered it, pressing the phone to my ear.

“Where the fuck are you?!” Raphael’s roar rattled the speaker.

He didn't ask if I was okay. He didn't ask about the baby. He didn't ask about the surgery he had ordered to rip my child from my womb.

“You hurt her, Elena,” he snarled, his voice dripping with venom. “Beatrice needs stitches. She’s terrified. Who the hell shot up my clinic? Who helped you run? Was it Harold? Tell me right now!”

My chest hollowed out. I stared at the blank wall, feeling the last, pathetic thread of my love for him snap.

“I don't care, Raphael,” I whispered, my voice completely dead. “I don't care about her. And you don't care about me.”

“Don't play games with me! Tell me where you are!”

“Just divorce me,” I said flatly. “You have your heir. You have your mistress. Let me go.”

“Divorce?!” he screamed, the sound unhinged, possessive, and furious. “You don't get to leave me! You are my wife! Come back to the estate NOW!”

I pulled the phone away from my ear. I didn't even blink as I pressed the red button and powered the device off completely.

The room went silent.

I rested both hands on my stomach. A soft flutter answered my touch.

“We’re never going back there,” I whispered to the dark room, tears finally sliding down my cheeks. “I promise you. We’re going somewhere far away. Where he can never find us.”

I looked down at my hands. The massive, flawless diamond engagement ring still sat on my finger. Around my neck was the Costa Famiglia’s antique diamond necklace.

Millions of dollars sitting on my skin.

It was my ticket out. I would sell them tomorrow. I would buy fake passports. I would disappear.

But tomorrow brought a different kind of hell.

The bedroom door slammed open just as the sun rose.

I flinched, sitting up.

Harold stood in the doorway. He looked like a ghost. His hands were trembling, his face pale and slick with cold sweat. He wasn't looking at me with pity anymore. He was looking at me with pure terror.

“Harold? What’s wrong?” I asked, my heart dropping to my stomach.

“You need to leave,” he choked out, his voice cracking. “Elena, you have to leave right now. Or... or you have to go back to him.”

I froze. “What? Why? You said I was safe here.”

Harold let out a broken sob, running his hands through his hair. “I shouldn't have taken you in. I'm so sorry, Elena. I'm so fucking sorry.”

“Harold, what did he do?” I begged, throwing the blankets off.

“He’s ruining my business,” Harold wept, refusing to meet my eyes. “His men burned down my two main warehouses an hour ago. And... and he has my parents, Elena. He has my little sister.”

The air vanished from the room.

“Raphael called me,” Harold whispered, tears spilling down his face. “He said if you don't walk through the front gates of the Costa estate by noon... he’s going to kill my entire family.”