The Mafia Don's Runaway Secret Baby

CARA POV:

The night was deep, heavy with an unnatural, suffocating silence. Inside the exquisitely crafted mansion, every piece of furniture and decor was worth an absolute fortune, radiating an oppressive sense of ancient wealth and untouchable power. The air smelled faintly of expensive cigars and aged whiskey, a scent that spoke of a world far removed from my own.

I lay on the bed, my mind clouded and dizzy, caught in a hazy space between consciousness and deep slumber. It was a vintage, massive bed, every inch of its intricate wooden patterns hand-carved by master artisans. The silk sheets felt cool against my feverish skin, yet a strange, inescapable heat coiled in the pit of my stomach.

Suddenly, the heavy oak doors were pushed open with a soft, ominous creak. Several men entered in quick succession, their footsteps muffled by the thick, imported Persian rug. They immediately stood ramrod straight by the entrance in respectful silence, their heads bowed, welcoming the last man who stepped into the room.

The room was entirely dark, illuminated only by the faint, silvery glow of the moonlight filtering through the heavy velvet curtains. I tried with all my might to open my eyes and see the intruder, but through my groggy state, I could only make out a tall, broad-shouldered silhouette. Even in the shadows, I could faintly sense the man's overwhelming, dominant aura-a predatory presence that made people instinctively want to bow in absolute submission.

"Is this her?" the man's voice was a low, resonant rumble, vibrating in the quiet room like the distant warning of a thunderstorm. It was a voice used to giving orders that were never questioned.

"Yes, lord," one of the men answered, his tone dripping with absolute reverence. "She is the only suitable match we found in the bloodline registry. Her background is clean, her health is pristine."

The man waved a hand dismissively, a simple gesture that carried absolute authority. Instantly, all the men who had just entered retreated silently, vanishing into the corridor as if they had never been there, pulling the heavy doors shut behind them.

The click of the lock echoing in the darkness was the last thing I heard before the shadow descended upon me.

...

"Ah!" With a sharp, desperate gasp, my eyes snapped open. I bolted upright, my chest heaving as I dragged oxygen into my burning lungs. Outside the window, the bright morning sun was shining brilliantly across the New York skyline, yet a layer of cold sweat clung to my slender back, making my pajamas stick to my skin.

I had actually just had a dream! An erotic, terrifyingly vivid dream! In the dream, there was a man, but I frustratingly couldn't see his face clearly. Who on earth was that man?

I took a deep breath, clutching the blanket as I slowly sat up. However, my body felt as if it had been run over by a heavy truck; every single muscle and joint ached with a deep, inexplicable soreness. My thighs trembled slightly as I swung my legs over the edge of the bed.

I frowned deeply, pressing the heels of my hands against my temples.

If it really was just a dream, this dream... was way too realistic! It felt as though it had actually happened, leaving physical imprints on my body and my mind.

I was utterly speechless at myself. Since when had I become so boy-crazy? I clearly had a boyfriend, Evan Reed, whom I had been dating for a while, yet here I was, dreaming about doing that kind of intimate thing with a complete stranger. What was even more ridiculous... I vaguely remembered the man demanding that I bear him a child. A child to carry on his legacy.

Ridiculous! I was only eighteen years old right now, just starting my life. Why on earth would I have a child for him? Who did he think he was? Some king of the underworld?

However, to my absolute shock, this bizarre and vivid dream haunted me for an entire week. Every night, the same shadows, the same overwhelming scent, the same inescapable heat. I even began to doubt if it was a dream at all, because it felt too real...

It was so real that I could vividly remember the man's aggressively masculine scent, a potent mix of expensive tobacco, dark cologne, and raw danger. I even... remembered his icy eyes that held not a single trace of warmth.

Those deep, ice-blue eyes-noble, calm, and terrifyingly mysterious...

He was so high and mighty, looking down on everything as if he didn't belong to the same world as me. In reality, a man like that probably didn't even exist! He was a phantom, a figment of my overactive imagination.

Therefore, I convinced myself even more that it was just a dream. Just a stupid, stress-induced nightmare!

...

Two months later.

I was in my room, sitting at my desk and studying my English literature textbook. The afternoon sun was warm, and the house was relatively quiet. Just as I was reading a complex passage from Shakespeare, trying to memorize the archaic words, my stomach suddenly churned violently. A wave of intense nausea hit me like a physical blow to the gut.

"Ugh!" Unable to hold it back, I clamped a hand over my mouth, pushed my chair back so hard it crashed to the floor, and sprinted toward the bathroom down the hall. I threw open the toilet lid, dropped to my knees on the cold tiles, and began to dry-heave uncontrollably, my eyes watering from the sheer force of it.

"Miss, are you alright?" A maid, hearing the commotion, hurried over and began gently patting my back, handing me a tissue.

The noise was loud enough to draw attention. From the adjacent room, my half-sister, Skylar Wells, pushed the door open and stepped out. Seeing me in such a miserable state, Skylar quickly crouched down beside me. Her eyes sparkled with a hidden gleam, but she asked with feigned sweetness and concern, "Sister, did you eat something bad? You look absolutely awful."

I simply didn't have the energy to reply to my hypocritical half-sister. I merely reached up, flushed the toilet, and weakly tried to stand, leaning heavily against the sink. But just as I was about to step out of the bathroom, another wave of severe nausea assaulted my stomach, forcing me back down.

What was wrong with me? Was it really just food poisoning? Or a severe stomach bug?

The next day, the nausea didn't subside. If anything, it was worse.

I decided I couldn't ignore it anymore. I went to the local hospital for a check-up, accompanied by my boyfriend, Evan. He held my hand in the waiting room, looking slightly bored but trying to be supportive.

Initially, we registered at the gastroenterology department, assuming it was a severe case of gastritis. However, after a preliminary examination and asking me a few pointed questions about my cycle, the doctor gave me a strange, knowing look and transferred me directly to the gynecology department.

A cold dread began to pool in my stomach, far worse than the nausea.

CARA POV:

"Doctor, what did you just say? Are you sure there hasn't been a mistake?!"

The examination results hit the small consultation room like a bomb. Both Evan and I sat completely frozen, our faces draining of color.

"What mistake?" The doctor, a middle-aged woman with a stern expression, looked at us over the rim of her glasses. "You young people nowadays are so careless. You get pregnant at such a young age because you don't take precautions. You weren't afraid when you were doing it, but now you're terrified?"

"I... my girlfriend and I haven't even gone that far!" Evan's face flushed a deep, angry red as he stammered out his defense, his hands gripping the armrests of his chair.

The doctor pushed her glasses up her nose, her gaze shifting from Evan's outraged face to my pale, stunned expression. She offered a meaningful, almost mocking smile. "Well, then you need to ask your girlfriend what exactly is going on. If you two haven't gone that far, perhaps she went that far with someone else?"

Evan froze.

The doctor's words fell like a heavy hammer, smashing the fragile trust between us.

He turned his head slowly to look at me, his eyes wide with disbelief, betrayal, and a rising disgust. "Cara?"

I shook my head frantically, my lips trembling so hard I could barely form the words. "I... I haven't slept with any man... I swear, Evan!"

It was meant to be a declarative statement, a firm denial. Yet, the uncertainty in my own heart was louder than my voice. If I truly was pregnant, the only logical, terrifying explanation was those nights...

It wasn't a dream!

"Alright, enough," the doctor interrupted impatiently, waving a hand. "You're not the Virgin Mary. A seed doesn't sprout without being planted. Think about it carefully. Haven't you missed your period for a long time? Haven't you been extremely lethargic lately? Haven't you been feeling dizzy and nauseous?"

"..." I was rendered completely speechless by the doctor's rapid-fire questions. Every single symptom she listed matched my condition perfectly.

...

It felt as if I had been struck by lightning.

Walking back from the hospital, both Evan and I were deathly pale. He didn't hold my hand. He walked two paces ahead of me, the silence between us thick and suffocating. When we reached my house, he didn't even say goodbye before turning and walking away, leaving me to face the impending storm alone.

Inside the grand living room of the Wells family home, the atmosphere was as heavy as a courtroom before a death sentence. I knelt on the cold marble floor. My father, Arthur Wells, a man who cared more about his political image than anything else, sat in the main armchair, his face a mask of cold fury.

"Since you claim the child isn't Evan's, then tell me, whose bastard is this?" he demanded harshly, his voice echoing off the high ceilings.

"...I don't know," my voice floated in the air, weak and hollow. I desperately wished someone could give me the answer to that very question.

"You don't know?! You still dare to lie to my face!" Arthur was furious. *Smack!* He slammed his palm against the armrest of his chair, the sound making me flinch. "I will ask you one last time. Whose child is this!"

"Dad, you don't need to ask anymore. No matter how you interrogate me, I really don't know."

"Arthur, I can see it clearly now," my stepmother, Hettie Park, chimed in from the side, fanning the flames of his anger. "This eldest daughter of yours looks so innocent and pure on the outside, but behind our backs, who knows what kind of filthy men she's been messing around with. If we don't discipline her severely, she might end up corrupting our precious Skylar."

"Mom, what are you saying? I would never be like my sister... I mean, I would never mess around with boys, let alone get pregnant. I would never bring such shame to the Wells family," Skylar said, her eyes lowered submissively, her voice soft and gentle. Yet, every word she spoke was like pouring gasoline on a raging fire.

I shot a cold, piercing glare at her. "Skylar, shut your mouth, will you?"

"I... I'm sorry," Skylar immediately teared up, her eyes turning red as she played the victim perfectly. "Dad, I shouldn't have spoken out of turn and made Sister upset."

Arthur's face stiffened with absolute rage. He stood up abruptly, strode over to me, and delivered a vicious slap directly across my face.

Slap!

"You make a disgraceful mistake, and you still dare to treat your sister with such an attitude! Skylar is right. You have completely humiliated the Wells family!"

CARA POV:

Arthur's slap was brutal. Instantly, a loud ringing filled my ears, and a burning red handprint bloomed across my cheek. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. But I didn't cry. I just gritted my teeth, kept my spine perfectly straight, and knelt there, refusing to admit fault.

I had done nothing wrong! I was the victim here. I took this slap unjustly, but I swore to myself that if I ever had the chance to meet that man again, the one who did this to me, I would return this humiliation a hundredfold!

"Get rid of this child! Immediately!" Arthur issued his final, uncompromising order, turning his back on me in disgust.

Before leaving the room, Skylar paused beside me and sighed, a sickeningly sweet smile playing on her lips. "Sister, Evan was so good to you. You really shouldn't have betrayed him like this..."

My heart ached as if pierced by a thousand needles. But I also knew that, as of today, I was no longer worthy of Evan. My life had been derailed by a phantom.

...

I took a leave of absence from my classes and went to the clinic to have the child removed.

Fearing I might try to run away or back out, Hettie accompanied me, watching me like a hawk.

"Cara Wells!"

The nurse called my name. I stood up, feeling as if I were walking toward my own execution. It all felt like a nightmare. I kept hoping that if I just closed my eyes and opened them again, I would wake up in my bed, and this nightmare would vanish.

"Take off your pants and lie back. We're preparing the anesthesia," the doctor's voice was cold and mechanical.

I climbed onto the surgical table, placing my feet in the cold metal stirrups. I thought I had mentally prepared myself for this, thinking I could face it calmly. But lying there under the glaring surgical lights, I couldn't stop shivering. I was freezing, trembling uncontrollably.

I hated him.

I deeply hated the man who had made me pregnant.

But the most ridiculous part was... I didn't even know who he was! How could such an absurd, tragic thing happen to me?

Just as my mind was racing with chaotic thoughts, the heavy doors of the operating room were violently pushed open.

A group of people in white coats rushed in, their faces pale and slick with sweat, looking as if they were facing a life-or-death crisis.

"Director!" The operating doctor and nurses all stood up collectively, greeting the man leading the group. I lay on the table, too exhausted and numb to care about the intrusion.

"Cara Wells! Which one of you is Cara Wells? Has the surgery started yet?!" the hospital director demanded loudly, panic and sheer terror evident in his voice.

I frowned and weakly propped myself up on my elbows.

The nurse pointed a trembling finger at me. "Director, is this the Cara Wells you're looking for?"

The director pulled out a photograph, carefully comparing it to my face. He nodded vigorously. "Yes! That's her! Has she been operated on?"

"We were just about to administer the anesthesia!"

"Stop! Nobody is allowed to perform surgery on her!" The director's sudden command left everyone in the room utterly bewildered.

The director's assistant leaned in close to the operating doctor's ear and whispered frantically, "We just got a call from the top. The orders are clear: no hospital and no doctor is allowed to take Miss Wells's abortion case. Otherwise, face the absolute worst consequences!"

The operating doctor looked curious and terrified. "Whose call was it?"

The assistant leaned in closer, lowering his voice even more. He uttered a name. The operating doctor jolted as if struck by lightning, his jaw dropping open in shock. When he looked back at me, his cold, mechanical demeanor was entirely gone, replaced by profound respect and a deep-seated fear.

"Miss Wells, please, let us help you out of here!" The director personally came forward to assist me. Several nurses rushed to help me off the table, handling me as if I were made of fragile glass. "Please be careful, don't hurt the child."

I frowned, completely unable to understand the situation. "Why can't I get the child removed?"

"Miss Wells, please don't ask for the reasons. As for this child, it absolutely cannot be removed. Not only will our hospital refuse to do it, but there isn't a single hospital or doctor in the entire country who would dare to take your case. If you don't mind, you are welcome to stay here for prenatal care. Please come to my office; I will personally conduct a check-up and prescribe the best nutritional supplements for you."

"Was the person who called you the father of this child?" I stared at the director. After the initial shock, my mind had become surprisingly calm, and my eyes were cold. "Director, who exactly is he? What right does he have to force me to keep this baby?"

Earlier, I had faintly heard the assistant mention a title-"The Don." But the specific name that followed was lost to me.

The director shook his head, looking deeply conflicted and fearful. "Miss Wells, please don't make this difficult for me. I don't know if he's the father of your child. But if you don't believe me, you are welcome to try other hospitals."