That night, I heard my baby crying somewhere in the dark. I ran toward him, calling his name, begging him to stop, but Nico was there, looming over him.
"You think this baby's yours? You cheated on me. That child isn't even mine. From the moment he was born, his fate was to die."
I screamed, "No! Stop! He's your child! Don't say that! Don't do this!"
Before I could reach them, he tossed my baby to the fire like he was nothing. Serafina stood beside him, laughing.
"Go ahead," she jeered. "Run faster, scream louder. It won't change anything."
I ran, I begged, I tried to grab him but my feet felt like they were glued to the floor, then I woke up.
The lights of the private clinic burned my eyes. The smell of disinfectant clawed at my nose.
For a moment, I didn't know where I was. Then the memory of the dream and everything else hit me, and my chest tightened again.
The doctor was standing by my bed, scribbling on a clipboard. He cleared his throat. "Mrs. Valente… you really shouldn't move around yet. If this happens again, you might not be able to have children anymore."
I stared at him, numb. "Tell me something. How much did he give you?"
He blinked, confused. "I'm sorry?"
"How much did Nico pay you to take my baby's stem cells… and let him die?"
His hand froze in midair. The pen stopped scratching. In the hallway beyond the door, I could hear the low murmur of one of Nico's soldiers posted outside, the dull rhythm of the compound never quite going silent. "Mrs. Valente, that's not—"
"Don't." I cut him off. "Don't you dare lie to me."
He looked down, pale. He didn't answer. That silence said everything I needed to know. Tessa Enzo set the clipboard on the side table and washed his hands at the basin, slowly, mechanically, though they were already clean.
"Give me the papers," I said flatly. "I'm leaving."
He hesitated, then handed them to me. My hands shook as I signed.
"You should stay a few more days," he said quietly. "You're not strong enough—"
"I don't care," I said. "I just want out of this place."
He didn't stop me again.
I pulled the blanket away and stood up. The pain hit me immediately, but it wasn't nearly as sharp as the memory of the dream. My legs trembled, my vision blurred, but I kept going.
…
When I finally reached the compound, the same estate I'd helped choose the furnishings for on our first anniversary, my chest felt like it was being crushed. Every corner, every curtain, every stupid little color choice. I'd imagined this as our family home, where our kids would run and laugh. Now it just felt dead.
The iron gate had opened without question when the car pulled up. The soldiers at the perimeter hadn't even looked at me twice. I was still the wife. For now.
I pushed the door open. The sound of laughter hit me like nails.
Donna Valente was in the living room, hovering over Serafina with an espresso cup in her hand. She was fussing like a mother hen, telling the household servant to bring food, insisting Serafina eat, insisting she drink. The matriarch's pearl rosary caught the lamplight as she adjusted a cushion behind Serafina's back, those beads wrapped tight around her wrist like a second skin.
I stepped forward. "Looks… cozy in here."
Donna Valente's gaze snapped to me, sharp and cold. She set the cup down with a deliberate clink against the saucer. "Why are you back now? Your child is dead. All because of your clumsiness, that stupid fall down the stairs. Honestly, I don't know why you even bother showing your face."
I froze, my blood turning to ice.
"Mother, don't blame my sister." Serafina leaned back on the couch, her swollen feet sticking out, her hands resting on her belly. Her fingertips drifted up and touched the hollow of her throat, a gesture so quick you'd miss it if you weren't watching. "She's always been clumsy ever since we were kids. It's not her fault. She tried…"
I wanted to speak, to scream that it wasn't true, that Nico had killed my child, but before I could get a word out, the front door opened.
Nico walked in, carrying a cake. Serafina's favorite. Two of his soldiers trailed behind him and then peeled off toward the kitchen without a word, the quiet choreography of men who knew the house's rhythms. My stomach twisted, bile rising, rage burning. He froze when he saw me.
"What… why are you here? You're supposed to be at the clinic." He frowned as if I had interrupted his perfect little world.
"Why? So you could pretend I don't exist?"
He stepped closer, narrowing his eyes. "Don't start. Serafina's pregnant. You should just… stay out of the way."
My voice went cold. "You… you let her take my baby."
He flinched, a shadow of guilt crossing his face before he hardened it into anger. His right fist clenched at his side, then released. Clenched again. "Stop. If you weren't so… fragile, maybe your child would still be alive."
The words hit me like a fist to the chest. My knees threatened to buckle, but I turned my back so he couldn't see me shaking.
"I'll be gone soon," I muttered, more to myself than to him. And I meant it.
…
When I reached the top of the stairs, I stopped in front of the nursery.
My hand hovered over the door. The smell of baby powder used to linger here, soft, warm, safe. I'd painted clouds on the ceiling myself, laughing when Nico told me I was too obsessed with the details.
I pushed the door open.
And everything inside me went still.
The room wasn't mine anymore.
The crib was new. The curtains were pink. The walls that used to be baby blue were now painted white with gold stars. And above the new twin cribs were names I didn't even recognize: "Baby Jaxton" and "Baby Jasmine."
For a second, I couldn't breathe.
I stepped inside, slowly, my hands shaking. Everything I had built, every tiny dream I had stitched into this room? It was gone. Just gone.
Then I saw it. My baby's ultrasound photo lying on the floor, the glass frame cracked. I knelt and picked it up carefully, brushing the dust away.
"My sweet boy… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry—"
Something in me snapped.
I grabbed the pink curtains and yanked them down. The rods hit the floor. I tore the name sign off the wall, ripping it in half. The sound echoed. A scream tore out of my chest, raw and broken.
I kicked the crib until it cracked. I didn't even care that my hands were bleeding, that glass was everywhere. I just wanted all of it gone. Every piece of them out of his room.
That's when I heard it. Serafina's shrill, fake cry from the doorway.
"Oh my God! What are you doing?!" she screamed, clutching her stomach. "You're going to hurt the babies!"
