"Oh no, this can't be happening." I whispered quietly to myself as I leaned closer to the study door. My hands wouldn't stop trembling as I listened more.
"You can't keep making Elena lose her babies for that woman!" Daniel’s, my husband's best friend, voice was filled with anger. "Do you even realize how much pain you're putting her through with every miscarriage?"
"I don’t care about her pain," Matteo, my husband, replied coldly. "I'm not going to put Camila's life in jeopardy just to let Elena have a child."
Daniel’s tone sharpened. "You're throwing away your own blood just to keep another woman happy?"
"Camila is more important," Matteo snapped. "She has the perfect body, and she's the president’s daughter. Do you know what that means? Our Mafia family needs her."
He exhaled sharply before adding, "And besides, her doctor said she won’t survive without the stem cells from premature babies. Her bone marrow is failing, Daniel. If we wait too long, the baby’s stem cells won’t be useful anymore. She needs them at six months—no later."
"Since Camila is the president's daughter, she can get help easily. Why use innocent Elena?"
"Daniel, you sound so foolish," Matteo sneered. "Camila is the president's only child. This is our chance to secure strong protection for our family. And I don’t know why you sound so concerned—Elena is a nobody. She’s just an orphan from the gutters. Camila is everything we need, and we can’t lose her. Elena is the only option."
A sharp pain shot through my chest, knocking the breath out of me. My hands trembled as I clutched my stomach, tears blurring my vision. A nobody. That’s all I am to him.
I stared at the phone in my hand, the screen still glowing with the email from my doctor. I was going to tell Matteo—I was pregnant again. I had let myself hope, thinking this time would be different. But then I heard them.
A sob broke free from my throat, my knees buckling. Eight babies—gone. And he never cared. I pressed a hand over my mouth, trying to quiet my cries, but the pain clawed at me, tearing me apart. How could he do this? How could he take away everything from me and still act like I didn’t matter?
Just as I struggled to process everything, their voices moved closer to the door.
“You shouldn’t be questioning your boss so much, Daniel. Let’s check the shipment details before it gets too late.”
The doorknob turned. Our eyes met.
Matteo’s gaze flicked over my face, his expression unreadable. “Baby, your eyes… they’re so red,” he said smoothly, like he hadn’t just admitted to killing all my children.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing a small, shaky smile. “It’s just sawdust,” I murmured. “I was cleaning earlier.”
“Oh, baby, the cleaners can do that,” Matteo murmured, pressing a kiss to my forehead, his hands settling on my waist.
But it felt different. Cold. Empty. The way he held me used to feel safe, full of love. Now, all I felt was the touch of a liar. A killer.
“You don’t need to stress, baby,” he continued, his voice smooth, almost soothing. “You need to stay healthy, remember?”
My chest tightened. My stomach churned. Healthy—for what? To carry another child he’d never let live?
I forced a nod, biting down the scream clawing at my throat. My eyes flicked to Daniel’s, and for a split second, I saw it—the pity. The silent apology.
I blinked fast, tearing my gaze away. If I let myself break down now, I’d never recover.
“You know what, baby? Let’s go for a swim. Let’s see who wins,” Matteo said, gripping my wrist as he pulled me along.
I forced another nod, my body moving on autopilot. Pretending. Just like I always did.
At the pool, he stripped off his shirt, acting like everything was normal. Like he hadn’t just confessed to destroying me. I felt a great sense of betrayal, but I kept my face neutral. Then his phone chimed.
It was right there. Within reach.
Matteo was in the pool, swimming laps, his powerful strokes slicing through the water. He was too focused to notice anything else.
My pulse hammered as I glanced through. I read the text—
And everything around me seemed to stop.
[Baby, are you sure the wedding will still happen? There’s been an emergency.]
My fingers tightened around the phone as I scrolled down.
[Baby, my bone marrow is failing fast. The doctor says I might not have a year. We need stem cells from a premature baby.]
The words blurred. My breath caught in my throat.
I had never mattered. Not me. Not my babies.
