Rising From Ashes: The Don's Lost Queen

Dante didn't return to the clinic until the next morning. He didn't explain, and I didn't ask.

Later, I learned from the guards that Tess had been hospitalized for three days following a minor skirmish. The guard said the Don visited her in the medical wing every day.

Later that week, while Dante was showering, his encrypted phone on the marble counter lit up.

I stared at the screen, reading the notifications—countless messages from her, thanking him for staying by her bedside every day, the words dripping with sickening intimacy.

Five months of agony blurred by in a haze of resentment. I was six months pregnant, my belly showing, but the distance between us was wider than the table that separated us.

One night, we sat at the dining table eating in silence.

"As Godfather, it would have been inappropriate not to check on her when she was hurt," he finally said.

I raised my fork to my mouth and then set it down. "I understand." I wiped my mouth with a napkin. "You don’t have to worry. I won’t cause her any trouble."

I stood up from the table and asked if he needed anything before I went upstairs.

Dante gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles white. "Sienna, enough. How much longer are you going to treat me like this?" He stood up, his chair crashing to the floor. "You’ve changed."

"Tell me, am I not supposed to hold you accountable?"

Dante went silent, standing there staring at me as if I’d punched him.

I turned and walked up the stairs. With every step, I relived the day I lost everything.

I was six months pregnant. I had tripped at the very top step, tumbling down to the hard marble floor below.

I lay in a growing pool of blood, frantically calling Dante’s name.

He picked up the phone and told me coldly that he was busy. He hung up on me because Tess needed a ride home after a meeting.

By the time the family doctor arrived, the heir to the Syndicate was gone.

The doctor sat by my bed and told me quietly: I would never be able to get pregnant again.