The Wife He Left for Dead

On the third day after Dante left, I knew something was seriously wrong.

The dull ache in my abdomen had turned into a sharp, tearing agony. Every breath felt like a knife twisting inside me. Worse, I had started bleeding intermittently.

At three in the morning, I was curled up on the guest room bed, the sheets soaked with sweat. Waves of pain crashed over me, making it hard to stay conscious.

I fumbled for my phone and dialed Dante's emergency line—the number he swore he would always answer, no matter what.

It rang for a long time before he picked up.

"Isabella?" His voice was annoyed. The sound of soft classical music and a woman's light laugh echoed in the background. "It's three in the morning in New York. What is it?"

"Dante..." My voice was so weak it startled me. "Something's wrong. The wound... I'm bleeding a lot, and the pain..."

"Isabella, listen to me," he cut me off, his voice sharp. "I'm in the middle of a critical negotiation. Can you just..."

"Dante, I think I need to go to the hospital," I said through gritted teeth, trying not to sound desperate. "The pain isn't normal, and..."

"Isabella!" he snapped. "The second I'm not there, you fall apart. I need a partner, Isabella, not some fragile thing that breaks."

In the background, I heard Seraphina's sweet voice. "Dante, Dr. Hoffman is waiting for us..."

"I'll be right there," he said to her, then his voice to me turned cold again. "Isabella, if it's a real problem, call an ambulance. I'll have a driver sent. But I can't leave right now. What I'm dealing with here is more important."

The line went dead.

I stared at the screen as another wave of pain hit me. More important? More important than his wife's life?

I struggled to get out of bed, trying to make it to the living room for painkillers. But as soon as I stood, a violent spasm of pain sent me crashing to the floor.

The floor was cold. My vision started to blur.

With my last bit of strength, I dialed 911.

Everything after that is a haze. The wail of sirens, a stretcher, the blinding white lights of a hospital.

"Nurse, get the ultrasound ready."

I was on a gurney in the ER. A young female doctor was moving a probe over my stomach.

"Mrs. Torrino?" She looked from the screen to me, her expression turning serious. "We need to talk."

"What?"

"You're pregnant. About six or seven weeks. But..." she paused. "Due to the infection and blood loss, the fetus is unstable. We need to operate immediately to deal with the infection, but the surgery carries a major risk to the pregnancy."

Pregnant?

I stared blankly at the ceiling. Six or seven weeks ago... That was the last time Dante and I were truly together. Before Seraphina. Before everything fell apart.

"Mrs. Torrino? Did you hear me?" The doctor's voice pulled me back. "This is an emergency. We need you or your husband to sign the consent forms for surgery. If we don't operate now, both you and the baby could die."

"I... I need to call my husband."

The doctor nodded and handed me my phone.

I dialed Dante's number again. He answered quickly this time.

"Isabella, I'm in the middle of—"

"Dante," I cut him off. "I'm at the hospital. The doctors say I need emergency surgery. They need your signature."

There was silence on the other end for a few seconds.

"Surgery? What kind of surgery? Is it serious?"

"The infection is worse than we thought, and..." I took a deep breath. "I'm preg—"

Before I could finish, Dante's voice was firm. "I'm coming back. Cancel everything, get the jet ready—"

Just as a sliver of hope sparked in me, I heard her voice.

"Dante?" Seraphina sounded concerned. "What's wrong? You look so stressed..."

His voice instantly softened. "Seraphina, something's come up. I might have to—"

"Is it Isabella?" Her tone was laced with annoyance. "What is it now? Dante, you can't let her lead you around by the nose. The doctor said my recovery depends on a stable, supportive environment. If you leave now..."

Her voice broke. "I had that nightmare again last night... with the gunshots. If you're not here with me, I don't know what I'll do..."

"Baby, don't cry..." Dante's voice was full of heartache.

I heard a rustling sound, like he was pulling her into an embrace.

A few moments later, he was back on the phone, his voice cold and distant.

"Isabella, I'm having my lawyer send the authorization to the hospital. You're strong, Isabella. You can handle this."

"Right now, Seraphina needs me more," he said, without a trace of hesitation. And just like that, he chose.

The line went dead.

I clutched the phone as another spasm of pain seized me. The doctor returned with the consent form.

"Mrs. Torrino? When will your husband arrive? We can't delay the surgery any longer."

I looked at her concerned face and thought of Dante's gentle voice comforting Seraphina.

I bit down hard on my lip and looked the doctor straight in the eye. "I'll sign it myself."