“Sir… she’s barely five weeks along,” the doctor said, blinking in uncertainty. “It can be done at this stage, but medically, we strongly advise against it—”
“Then do it,” Alessandro interrupted coldly.
The doctor hesitated, glancing between us. “The procedure available this early would require a uterine puncture. It carries serious risks for both the mother and the baby. There’s also no way to administer anesthesia. It will be extremely painful. Sir, waiting would be much safer.”
“Then don’t use anesthesia,” Alessandro snapped, irritation flashing across his face because his order had not been obeyed immediately. “Run the damn test. Was I not clear?”
The doctor looked at me then, pity filling his eyes, as though he could already see the kind of misery I lived in.
I forced my lips into a weak smile. “Go ahead.”
That was all it took.
No one in that room cared about what it would do to me.
No one except me.
---
The test results would take another week to come back.
But none of them cared.
The auction was approaching, and their ridiculous bet mattered more to them than my pain, my body, or the child growing inside me.
The whispers started in the hospital before the procedure was even over.
After the doctor collected Alessandro’s hair sample, Alessandro spoke again.
“Take Damian’s and Roman’s too. Put all of us in the testing.”
For one brief second, the hallway went dead silent.
Then the murmurs started.
“Three men? Seriously?”
“Damn, what kind of woman is she?”
“No wonder her husband dragged her here for a paternity test at five weeks. He doesn’t even know if the baby is his.”
“He’s rich, handsome, and she still sleeps around? If that were my wife, I’d throw her out in the street.”
Even the doctor—who had looked at me with sympathy moments earlier—changed.
The pity in his face turned into disgust.
And when he began the uterine puncture, he no longer bothered to be gentle.
There was no warning.
No comfort.
Only pain.
A sharp, tearing agony ripped through me so violently that my vision blurred. It felt like something inside me was being stabbed over and over. Tears escaped no matter how hard I fought them.
When it was over, I had to brace myself against the wall just to stand.
My legs trembled so badly I could barely walk out of the room.
Alessandro saw me and stepped toward me, reaching out like he intended to help.
But before his hand touched me, Camilla came rushing out in tears, making a scene.
Damian and Roman followed behind her immediately like obedient dogs.
Without hesitation, Alessandro let me go.
He dropped me.
My body hit the floor, pain surging even harder through my stomach.
“Get yourself home,” he said flatly. “I need to check on Camilla.”
Then he ran after her.
He never looked back.
Inside my head, I laughed bitterly.
Of course.
That was where his concern had always been.
The people around me watched it happen, and they enjoyed every second.
“Slut. No wonder your husband left you.”
“Hey, sweetheart, how much for a night? Five dollars enough?”
“Five? Please, she’d probably do it for free. Girls like that beg for attention.”
I gripped the armrest beside me and slowly forced myself to my feet.
I kept my head down.
I didn’t say a word.
I just walked out.
One painful step at a time.
Like I was already dead.
---
By the time the taxi dropped me off at home, night had already fallen.
I reached for the front door, using the knob to steady my shaking body.
The second I stepped inside, the smell hit me.
Heavy.
Humid.
Sweat.
Perfume.
Sex.
Then I heard them.
Alessandro.
Camilla.
Their voices.
Their moans.
The rhythm of what they were doing.
I slammed the door shut so hard the walls shook.
Then I slid down against it, covering my ears with both hands.
Enough.
I couldn’t take any more.
I didn’t want to hear another sound.
I sat there for what felt like forever.
Maybe five minutes.
Maybe ten.
I couldn’t tell anymore.
Then the bedroom door opened.
Camilla stepped out barely dressed.
Her skin was flushed.
Dark marks covered her neck—marks left by Alessandro’s mouth.
And she wore them proudly.
Like she wanted me to see exactly what he gave her.
I stayed on the floor, looking up at her, feeling smaller than I had ever felt in my life.
In the distance, water was running.
Alessandro was showering after being with her.
Camilla leaned lazily against the doorway as if the house belonged to her.
She looked down at me with a cruel smile.
“I know how badly you’ve been trying to have Alessandro’s child,” she said softly, poison hidden in every word. “Throwing yourself at him, desperate for scraps of attention.”
She tilted her head.
“And now you finally got pregnant. Are you happy?”
Her smile widened.
“Do you really think it changes anything? If I said the word, those three would use you all over again. And if I got bored enough, I could have you tossed into the tiger pit. You’d be ripped apart before you could scream. Want that?”
She took a slow step toward me.
I instinctively moved back.
She smiled even more.
“Alessandro may have married you,” she continued, “but I’m the one he loves. You should see how he looks when he’s with me. He enjoys touching me. You?” She laughed softly. “You’re just something warm for him to use when he’s frustrated.”
There was something vicious in her eyes.
Something bitter.
Jealous.
And suddenly, I understood.
She was jealous.
Not because of what they had done to me.
Not because I had survived being used by three men.
No.
She was jealous because there was a chance—however small—that the baby inside me might be Alessandro’s.
Because my child could become the heir she could never give him.
Camilla couldn’t bear children.
Without realizing it, I placed a hand over my stomach.
That one movement made her snap.
“That child is nothing but a bastard!” she screamed. “No one even knows which brother fathered it! What are you so proud of?”
I lowered my head and forced myself to act helpless.
Alessandro was still upstairs.
I couldn’t afford to make her angrier.
“Camilla…” I whispered weakly, “I don’t know what you mean. Alessandro just told me to do the test. But I know the baby is his. Are you angry because you can’t give him one?”
Her expression twisted instantly.
Jealousy made her face ugly.
“Who gave you the right to carry his baby?” she screamed. “If I can’t have his child, then neither will you!”
Before I could move, she shoved me.
Hard.
My body flew backward.
I lost my footing and crashed down the staircase.
Pain exploded through every inch of me.
But the worst of it came from my stomach.
I curled around it instinctively, trying to protect the baby, but it did nothing.
Every stair I struck felt like a blade tearing into me.
