~Valeria’s POV
Five miscarriages. Five tragedies.
For seven years, I had lost five unborn children I carried for Lorenzo Ricci, my husband. Five tiny lives were gone before they could take their first breath.
But it was only today that I found out the truth—outside my husband's private suite—The Black Lotus.
On the screen before me, Lorenzo Ricci—-the man I built my life around and said my vows to—-sat comfortably in a room, a woman stranded on his lap.
Not just any woman.
Seraphina Marone—the owner of a famous strip club.
Her lips were curled into a smirk, manicured nails running down Lorenzo's chest as she whispered, "Tell me, Lorenzo, when are we going to remove her from your life? I want to be the one raising your child, not her."
He chuckled, his hands gripping her waist. "Soon, baby, soon."
She hummed in amusement. "I want you to keep making her lose them until she's unable to conceive anymore," She said, her voice dripping with pleasure as she swirled the wine glass in her hand. "I want her to suffer so much that she can't stand to look at herself in the mirror. It will make me happy."
My stomach twisted violently and I had to fight the urge to vomit. Lorenzo leaned into her, pressing a slow kiss against her neck. "Then, your wish is my command, Seraphina."
The screen then went black. I felt like I was going to be sick.
~ Earlier that Evening
The house was decorated as if it was a wedding venue with soft music playing in the background. I stood in the dining room, staring at the small velvet box, sitting at the table.
Inside it was the ultrasound of our unborn child.
After every miscarriage, I was left broke, but this—it was different, I had hope. I was going to surprise Lorenzo.
As if on cue, my phone vibrated on the counter. Lorenzo's name flashed across the screen.
Smiling, I answered quickly, my heart fluttering with excitement. "Lorenzo, I have a surprise for—"
"I'm at The Black Lotus," he cut in, his voice trembling a little. "Running late. Don't wait up."
I blinked. "The Black Lotus?"
He sighed, getting impatient. "Business."
There was a brief pause, then a muffled voice in the background—a woman's voice. Low, husky.
A cold shiver ran down my spine but I shrugged it off.
"But I thought you were coming home early."
"Change of plans," he muttered. "We'll talk later." And just like that, he hung up.
I stared at the decorated dining room, feeling like a fool. However, I refused to wait any more than I already had. So, I grabbed my coat and decided to surprise him instead.
The moment I arrived at The Black Lotus, something inside me screamed to stop there. But I moved, disregarding my fear. Before I could step inside, a man blocked my path.
"Mrs. Ricci," he greeted smoothly, his stance firm. "You're expected elsewhere."
I frowned. "What?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he gestured toward a hallway. Maybe it was Lorenzo calling me to him. So, I moved and followed him. I followed the man to a VIP lounge and sitting in the center of the room wasn't my husband but someone far more dangerous—Santino De Luca.
I had never met him before but I knew exactly who he was. The ultimate leader of the mafia. The man even Lorenzo wouldn't dare cross.
Santino leaned back in his chair, his sharp eyes scanning me, peeling back layers even I wasn't aware of.
"Mrs. Ricci." he murmured.
I straightened my spine. "Where is my husband?" After a gesture of his hand, I took a seat across from him.
"Busy," he replied. "But I wanted a moment of your time."
"I don't understand, Mr. De Luca."
His lips curled up in amusement. "Oh, I think you will."
He nodded toward the large screen on the far wall on our right.
The lights dimmed. The screen flickered to life.
And then—
I watched my husband, Lorenzo Ricci, with Seraphina Marone, play out my worst nightmare.
My hands trembled. My entire world shattered at that point.
Santino watched me with unsettling calm. "Now, do you understand, Mrs. Ricci?"
"Why are you showing me this?" I swallowed, a gulp forming in my throat.
"Because," He said smoothly, setting down his glass, "I can tell you everything. If you're willing to make a trade."
"A trade?" I stiffened.
"A favor," he clarified. "Nothing now. But one day, when I come to collect, you won't refuse me."
I took a shaky breath, I couldn't trust him. "I don't make blind trades."
Santino smirked as if he had expected that answer. "Suit yourself."
He slid a piece of paper across the table.
"That's my personal contact," He said, staring directly into my eyes, "Call me when you change your mind."
I returned home instead of going to Lorenzo. And hours later, I heard the front door open and close behind me. Lorenzo staggered in, his movements sluggish, his shirt slightly rumpled. He reeked of whiskey and perfume.
I waited for him to say something. To look at me.
He didn't.
"I'm exhausted," he muttered, shrugging off his jacket and collapsing onto the bed. Within seconds, his breathing evened out and he was asleep.
I stood frozen, my hands trembling. Santino's words and the video gnawed at me. Moving quietly, I stepped toward Lorenzo's sleeping form, fingers slipping into his pockets.
His phone.
My pulse pounded as I pressed his limp finger to the screen, unlocking it. I scrolled through messages—cold, factual words that ripped the air from my lungs.
Every miscarriage was planned. Every stillborn, their dead body had been sent to Seraphina Marone just for her twisted love.
