Chapter 3

Elena Gallo POV:

Six weeks. The words echoed in the sterile silence as I walked out of the doctor's office in a daze. This child should have been our hope. The future of the De Luca family. Now, it just felt like another chain binding me to a lie.

I was heading for the elevators when I heard their voices. Alessandro's, low and urgent. Scarlett Valenti's, tearful and pleading. I ducked behind a large potted plant, my body moving on instinct.

They were standing just a few feet away. Alessandro had his hands on Scarlett's shoulders, his expression tender.

"When, Alex?" she sobbed, looking up at him. "When will you make it right? When will you bring me into the De Luca family? Our families could finally be united."

I held my breath, my heart a stone in my chest.

Alessandro's voice was firm, laced with a strange mix of guilt and resolve. "Elena Gallo is my wife. In the eyes of my family, that will not change. It's my penance for the mistakes I've made." He paused, his thumb stroking her cheek. "But I will always take care of you and Leo. You are my blood."

His blood. And what was I? A penance. A tool for his atonement.

They started walking toward the elevator. As they passed, Scarlett's eyes met mine over Alessandro's shoulder. There was no surprise in her gaze. Only a cold, triumphant glint. She knew I was there. She had wanted me to hear it. In this war between our families, she had already won.

The pain was so sharp, so absolute, it felt like my insides were being torn apart. I was nothing but an obstacle, a wife he kept out of a twisted sense of duty. I would not carry a child for this man. I would not birth an heir into this web of deceit.

I walked back to the reception desk, my movements stiff and robotic, and scheduled an appointment for an abortion.

In the hospital parking lot, I called my lawyer. "I want to file for divorce," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "I want everything I am entitled to. I don't care what it takes." Even against the power of a Capo, I would fight for my freedom.

My other phone, the one Alessandro knew about, rang. His name flashed on the screen. I almost declined, but some morbid curiosity made me answer.

"Happy birthday, cara," he said, his voice warm. He'd remembered. Or his assistant had. "I'm sorry about last night. I've planned something special. The new wing of the museum is being inaugurated tonight. In your honor."

The museum I designed. A public stage for his grand performance of the loving husband. A cold premonition washed over me. He had no idea of the storm that was coming. He had no idea he was talking to a ghost.

I hung up without saying a word.