Three years bound to the Conti name, and not once did I carry a child.
It was my husband who finally pressed me toward the clinic, toward the needles and the doctors who answered to the Family, and after two years of it I was carrying at last.
Then, eight months along, I overheard Dario Conti speaking with one of his made men in the study below.
"You fed Elena Marchetti the pills for three solid years so she'd believe her own body was barren, then used that to steer her into the clinic, all so you could plant Carmela Volpe's egg inside her. That's cold, Don. That's ice."
Dario didn't sound troubled in the slightest.
"Ten months of carrying ruins a woman, and then there's the agony of the birth. I couldn't stand to put Carmela through any of that."
I stood at the top of the stairs looking down at that scheming man, and I didn't hesitate. I dialed the clinic's private line.
"Yes. I'd like to schedule a termination."
——
"Aren't you worried Elena will come apart when she learns the truth? No woman wants to raise another's blood. And she's carried this one ten months, only for it to belong to somebody else entirely."
Bruno Salvati watched Dario with a teasing grin, cracking the knuckles of his right hand one finger at a time.
"She's too stupid to ever piece it together. And if she did, what of it? She's eight months gone. You think she'd actually be rid of it? Look at her now, swollen as a sow. Who'd want her but me?"
"True enough. The whole life knows how the woman worships you. Clung to you like a leech for years." He paused. "Though I'll confess, I'm a little curious what a pregnant woman feels like."
Bruno's face twisted into something ugly, and he raised his eyebrows at the Don.
A flicker of disgust crossed Dario's eyes.
"Fat as a sow. One look at her and I can't even rise to it, never mind the rest. I'd sooner stare at the wall than at that belly of hers, big as a watermelon. The sight turns my stomach."
"Well, if you've no use for her, let me take a turn next time. I truly want to know what a pregnant woman's like."
When Bruno finished his filthy little remark, the two of them burst into laughter, and every laugh was a knife driven straight into my heart.
For the clinic's work I'd swallowed countless hormone pills these last two years, taken more injections than I could count, watched my body swell and lose its shape.
Once I was carrying, Dario was forever fretting that I wasn't getting enough, pushing food on me every single day, so the baby grew too large, and by five months my belly was already crawling with ugly marks.
I used to think it was because he ached for everything I was giving up. Now I understood. All he cared for was the thing in my belly, the piece of him and Carmela bound together into an heir for the Family.
I clenched my fists until my palms ached, cold sweat breaking out across my back, and I all but fled that suffocating room.
Once I'd steadied myself in the corridor, away from the soldiers stationed at the doors, I pulled out my phone without a second thought and called the clinic's appointment line.
I drove to the clinic that same night, past the gate guards who didn't dare question the Don's wife. One more second in that house and I was afraid I'd lose my mind.
The doctor on duty looked at my huge belly and asked me again, and again.
"You're already eight months along. Are you certain you want to terminate now?"
"And the child's father?"
"Dead."
Dario wanted this child so badly. Fine. I'd give him a gift he'd never forget.
The doctor saw the dead, ashen look in my eyes and stopped asking. He wrote the prescription quickly and pressed the appointment slip into my hand.
"Take the medication, then come in for the procedure in three days."
I carried the slip home, exhausted, only to find the keypad lock at the estate's side entrance kept flashing that my code was wrong.
I was reaching for my phone when the door swung open, and Carmela walked out in a sheer nightgown.
