“Mom, please,” I begged, my voice cracking as I fell to my knees on the cold marble floor of the living room. “I’m dying. The doctor said I have cancer. I only have a few months left. Just let me be with my son. Just for a few months. Please!”
My mother didn’t even flinch. She stood over me, adjusting her pearl necklace, her eyes filled with nothing but disgust.
“Stop this pathetic act, Candice,” she snapped, stepping away from me like I was a disease. “Cancer? Really? How low will you stoop just to get attention? You’re just faking this because you can’t stand that Paula is finally happy.”
“I’m not faking it! I have the medical papers—”
“Enough!” my mother hissed. “Paula is fragile right now. She lost her baby, and she needs peace. Stop acting like a lunatic and let your sister heal. You should be grateful we’re even letting you stay in this house.”
My heart shattered all over again. My own mother. The woman who gave birth to me was looking at me like I was a monster for wanting the child I had carried for nine months.
I dragged myself up and stumbled toward the hallway, desperate. I saw Sandro putting on his coat. He was getting ready to leave.
I grabbed his sleeve, my fingers trembling. “Sandro, please. Talk to me. He is mine. He’s our son. You can’t just erase me like this.”
Sandro yanked his arm away so violently I almost lost my balance. His eyes were ice.
“Are you deaf, Candice?” he sneered. “I told you, he is Paula’s son now. You are nothing but the surrogate. You agreed to the terms of service of this marriage the moment you signed those papers and took my money to save your father's failing company. You were bought and paid for. Now, stay at home. I have better things to do without you.”
He turned his back on me, walking up the stairs to fetch them.
The betrayal burned in my chest, a suffocating, toxic weight. My marriage wasn't a union of love. To him, it was just a transaction. A set of terms of service where I was the product, and Paula was the beneficiary.
A few minutes later, the house went quiet. I heard a soft whimper coming from the nursery upstairs.
My feet moved on instinct. I sneaked up the stairs, my breath catching in my throat. The nursery door was cracked open. I slipped inside.
There he was. My beautiful baby boy, lying in the crib, his little face red as he started to cry.
“Shh, sweet boy. Mommy’s here,” I whispered, tears spilling down my cheeks. I reached into the crib and gently lifted him into my arms. The moment his tiny body pressed against my chest, his crying stopped. He belonged with me.
“What are you doing?!”
A shrill scream shattered the moment.
Paula stood in the doorway, her face twisted in fake terror. “Help! Sandro! Mom! She’s stealing my baby!”
“No! I just wanted to hold him!” I panicked, holding my son closer to my chest.
Footsteps thundered up the stairs. Sandro burst into the room, his face dark with rage.
“Give him to her!” Sandro roared, lunging at me.
“No! He’s mine!” I screamed, stepping back.
But Sandro didn’t care. He grabbed my arm and yanked me hard. In the violent struggle, my grip slipped. The baby tumbled from my arms.
Time stopped.
I lunged forward, catching him just before he hit the floor, but his tiny head bumped hard against the wooden leg of the crib.
A piercing, agonizing wail erupted from my baby.
“My baby!” Paula shrieked, snatching him from my arms. “You monster! You tried to kill him!”
“I didn’t! Sandro, you pulled me—”
“Shut up!” Sandro struck me across the face. The slap was so hard I tasted blood. “If anything happens to him, I will kill you myself! Get the car, Paula! We’re going to the hospital!”
They ran out, leaving me on the floor.
Panic and adrenaline surged through my weak body. I forced myself up and ran after them, hailing a cab with shaking hands to follow Sandro’s car to the emergency room.
When I finally burst through the hospital doors, I saw them at the front desk.
“Sandro! How is he? Is he okay?” I cried, rushing toward them.
Sandro turned, his eyes blazing with pure hatred. “Get away from us!”
He shoved me backward with all his strength.
He didn't even wait to see me fall. He just turned his back, wrapping his arm protectively around Paula as they hurried down the pediatric wing.
My weak legs gave out. I stumbled backward, bracing for the hard impact of the hospital tiles.
But I didn’t hit the floor.
Instead, I crashed into a solid, warm chest just as I stumbled past the shadows of a corridor alcove. A pair of strong, steady arms wrapped around my waist, catching me effortlessly and pulling me completely out of sight.
I gasped, looking up, my heart pounding wildly in my chest.
The man holding me had sharp, striking features and eyes as cold and deep as the ocean.
My breath hitched. I recognized that face from the covers of every business magazine Sandro obsessed over. It was Elias Thorne. Sandro’s ultimate rival. The ruthless billionaire who had been slowly dismantling my husband's empire piece by piece.
He pressed a long, elegant finger to his lips, silencing my gasp as we watched Sandro and Paula disappear down the hall, completely unaware of us.
“Is this how Rossi treats his dying wife?” Elias murmured, his voice a low, dangerous velvet against my ear. “How pathetic.”
I trembled, tears spilling over my lashes as I looked up at the man my husband feared most.
Elias’s gaze darkened, his grip on my waist tightening just a fraction. “Tell me, Candice,” he whispered. “Do you want to make them pay?”
