Owned by the Wrong Don

Four months pregnant. I was alone when a rival family came for me..

A searing pain tore through my stomach. I couldn't reach my husband, Don Lorenzo.

His phone was off.

I woke up in a sterile hospital bed. Three days had passed. And the baby... was gone.

That’s when I heard the nurses gossiping.

“Heard Don Lorenzo cleared out a block of Fifth Avenue for his mistress three days ago. Had his phone off so they wouldn't be disturbed.”

Tears rolled down my cheeks, but my heart was empty.

I gave up my career, my whole life, for him.

The Don who promised me forever… he shattered that promise just days before our fifth anniversary.

Back home, I dug out an old phone and made a call. A number I hadn't touched in five years.

"The European tour you mentioned…" I said, my voice hollow. "I'm in. I can be ready in a week."

I braced myself against the wall as I limped into the villa. Every step sent a fresh spike of pain through my abdomen.

"Elena?"

Lorenzo's voice came from the stairs.

I looked up. He was walking down, holding a bouquet of white lilies. He wore a gentle smile, one I hadn't seen in a long time.

"You're back." He rushed over. "Been dealing with a traitor in the family. Things got messy. Didn't have a chance to message you back."

A traitor.

How ironic.

"Heard you went to get your cello fixed?" he asked, stopping in front of me. "How'd it go?"

"They're still working on it." My voice was flat. Dead.

Lorenzo put the lilies on a side table and opened his arms for a hug.

"I missed you."

His arms were once my sanctuary. Now, the thought of his touch made my stomach churn.

There was a glaring hickey on his neck. Not even faded.

The sharp scent of perfume hit me from his collar. Tom Ford Black Orchid. Vanessa’s favorite.

I slapped a hand over my mouth. Bile rose in my throat.

I shoved at his chest, hard. Like he was poison.

"Elena!" His smile vanished. He gripped my shoulders, his voice tight with fake concern. "What's wrong? Is the baby acting up again?"

The baby. He brought up our baby.

An icy fist clamped around my heart and squeezed. Hard.

Yeah, Lorenzo. Our baby was "acting up."

He fought for his life inside me while you cleared the streets for another woman.

He was slowly dying inside me while you shut off your phone for your little world for two.

He left me for good while I was alone on that operating table.

The words swirled in my throat, but I couldn't say a thing.

All I could do was gag. I just nodded.

"...A little nauseous."

Lorenzo's brow furrowed, his eyes full of concern. "Should I call the doctor?"

"No," I said, pushing him away. "I just need to rest."

"Elena, I'm so sorry I wasn't here for you these last few days." His voice was thick with guilt. "To make it up to you, I got you something priceless."

Lorenzo produced a small, iconic red Cartier box.

"I've never seen you wear a necklace like this," he whispered in my ear, his tone full of suggestion. "I can't wait."

I opened the box.

A diamond-studded choker lay on the black velvet.

The kind of trashy accessory you'd find in a lingerie shop.

My stomach churned again.

I'd seen this necklace before.

Last night, I’d found myself on Vanessa's Instagram.

In the photo, she was lounging on a bed. The camera angled down, showing just her pale neck and collarbone.

She was wearing this exact choker. Her skin was covered in hickeys, like evidence.

The caption: [He said he wants me to be his one and only kitten.]

So, what was this?

A hand-me-down from his mistress? A prop from their little games he wanted to "recycle" on me?

Or did he want me, his wife, to wear this collar too? To join their sick, twisted game?

"Do you like it?" Lorenzo stared into my eyes.

I forced a bitter smile and nodded.

"Good." He closed the box, satisfied. "It's your fifth-anniversary gift. At the party, I'm going to tell everyone you're pregnant."

Announce my pregnancy.

I wondered what their faces would look like if they knew the baby had been dead for three days.

"Boss."

Marco rushed into the hall, his face grim.

"What is it?" Lorenzo frowned.

"The Serpente family is making a move. You need to handle it now."

Lorenzo looked at me, then nodded at Marco. "I'm on my way."

He turned back to me, kissing my forehead. "Get some rest. We'll pick out a dress for the party tomorrow."

They left in a hurry.

I stood alone in the empty hall, staring at the white lilies.

Lilies mean purity.

What a joke. There was nothing pure between us anymore.

I dragged my tired body to our bedroom and pulled a five-year-old phone from the back of the closet.

The one I used before I married Lorenzo. It still had all my contacts from Juilliard.

I dialed a number I hadn't called in a long, long time.

"Elena?" A familiar voice answered. "Oh my god, is that you?"

"Sophie, it's me."

"Five years! I thought I'd never hear from you again," Sophie said, her voice full of surprise. "Are you okay?"

"That European tour you mentioned..." I took a deep breath. "Is the offer still good?"

The line went quiet for a few seconds.

"Of course it is." Sophie's tone turned serious. "We've always kept a spot for you, Elena. The Vienna Philharmonic has been waiting."

"I can leave in seven days."

"What?" Sophie gasped. "What happened?"

I looked out the window at the music garden Lorenzo had built for me. Every flower was a reminder of how naive I once was.

"Get me a new ID, Sophie," I said, my voice steadier than ever. "Elena Moretti is dead."

I was a Juilliard prodigy. The mob was a world away from mine.

Then I met Lorenzo.

I was ten, on my first tour. He was fifteen, the Moretti heir.

He fell for me instantly.

For ten years, he never missed a performance.

He loved watching me shine on stage, he said.

Our wedding was the event of the season.

He promised to protect me, always.

Then a rival family snatched me after a show. He took three bullets getting me back.

The month he spent laid up changed him.

The family pressured him, and he caged me in this gilded mansion, forbidding me from ever performing again.

He’d come home late, kiss my scars, and swear he was happy to be my only audience.

When I got pregnant, the 'protection' doubled.

I had everything I could ever want. I thought we were unbreakable.

Then came Vanessa. The B-list model on his arm at every party. His open secret.

I became a thief, stealing glimpses of their life on her Instagram.

I could have lied to myself. Told myself he was just distracted.

But he skipped three of my ultrasounds for her photoshoots.

He missed the anniversary of my father's death to celebrate her birthday.

And he let me lose our child... just to go shopping with her. I'm done.

This marriage is over.

I cried myself to sleep. But Lorenzo, who had just left, came back.

He carried a bowl of my favorite soup and kissed my forehead.

"Trouble at the casino, baby. I have to go fix a few things. You rest. Drink this when you wake up, it's good for the baby."

A lump formed in my throat. I just hummed in agreement. He noticed something was off.

"If the baby's giving you a hard time, call the doctor. I'll be back as soon as I can."

He tucked me in and left. My heart sank even lower.

There's no more baby, Lorenzo. And no more us.