Chapter 2

Inside the private rooms of the Moretti compound—rooms guarded by men who had sworn blood oaths to Dominic—he bent over Bianca and tenderly kissed the faint scratches left by her fall. His gaze, the one that made made men lower their eyes across a sit-down, softened now with pain, as if the mere sight of her injuries broke him. On their bed, the bed that had been Adriana's as the Donna of the Moretti Family, the two of them indulged in passion, their bodies entwined beneath the sheets.

Above them, the wedding portrait swayed slightly with the motion, the blood-sealed marriage alliance between Bellucci and Moretti hanging crooked on the wall. Adriana's gaze fixed on the photograph, on the woman she used to be, the one who once gazed at Dominic with all the love in the world. In return, his face, even in that captured moment, was indifferent.

That was when Adriana realized that even a soul could shed tears.

At least Dominic could rest easy now. Adriana would never come between them again.

She was already dead.

When Dominic first came for her, she was so terrified she tried to run. Her swollen, eight-months-pregnant belly made it nearly impossible, but she still stumbled forward, desperate. He stood there watching, his arms folded, the way he stood over men who owed the Family blood, as she ran aimlessly like a cornered animal. In the end, it was useless. His soldiers easily caught her and dragged her back.

Losing patience, Dominic forced her onto the cold seat of the water tower ride. His hands pinned her down until the thick straps and ropes bound her limbs in place. She screamed and pleaded, her voice cracking as the ride began to lift her higher and higher into the sky.

She was still screaming when she felt a hot gush of liquid flow down her legs. Her water had broken. She sobbed, gasping for breath, begging him, begging her husband, to save their child.

For a moment, just one fleeting moment, she saw hesitation flicker in his eyes. But before hope could bloom, the soft voice beside him spoke up.

Bianca leaned into his side, her face pale and pitiful. "I thought Adriana's due date wasn't until next week? But... She does look scared. She even wet herself before the ride went up... Maybe we should just let it go. I'm fine now anyway." Her eyes flicked sideways to him, gauging, before the tremble reached her lips.

That was all it took. In the next breath, Dominic's expression twisted with disgust.

"Adriana! You're vile. Using our child just to win my sympathy? Stay up there and think about what you've done!"

A hundred yards above the ground, the wind howled, cutting through her thin dress like a blade. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably, but the pain twisting in her abdomen was even worse.

The baby was coming.

She thrashed against the ropes, the fibers cutting into her wrists until layers of skin peeled away. Blood dripped down her arms, but she didn't stop. Her fingers clawed desperately at the knots until, somehow, they began to loosen. Even her ruined right hand, the one crushed years ago pulling him from death, clawed at the rope as if it still owed him something.

The third time the ride shot upward, she gathered every last ounce of strength she had left. And that's when she heard it, a fragile, kitten-like cry.

Her baby was born, right there in the sky.

She was too weak to hold it, too broken to even see if it was a boy or a girl. Before she could reach out, the ride jolted violently. The tower had reached its peak again.

The next second, it plunged.

The tiny, fragile body was ripped from her arms. Her baby, so small, so helpless, slammed into the unforgiving ground below.

She reached for it, screaming until her throat gave out, but her shredded hands couldn't catch hold. All she could do was watch as that perfect little life was reduced to nothing but blood and flesh on the cold concrete.

Her own blood followed, painting the air crimson, a midsummer snowfall of death.

In that final, agonized scream, her breath gave out.

And where was Dominic?

He was nowhere near Adriana. Instead, he'd summoned the finest physicians money could buy off the books, not for her, not for their child, but for Bianca. All because he didn't want a shallow scratch on her arm to leave a scar.

He brought her fresh roses, carefully selected from a florist who imported them from halfway across the world. He even secured a one-of-a-kind designer necklace, placing it gently in her hands to soothe her fragile nerves.

When one of the Family’s made men tried to bring him word of what had happened to her, Dominic cut them off without hesitation.

"Even if she's dead, she brought it upon herself," he said, without a trace of emotion.

"In two days, it'll be her due date. I'll bring Adriana over to apologize to you," Dominic said, his fingers lazily stroking Bianca's hair as she curled up in his lap.

Bianca traced light circles on his chest with her delicate fingers, her head resting softly against him.

"Maybe we should just forget it," she whispered, her voice soft and filled with guilt. "I believe Adriana didn't mean to do it. In the end, it's my fault. I shouldn't have come back. But... I just wanted to be by your side. I never wanted to cause trouble between you two."

Dominic caught her wandering hand, his voice unbearably tender.

"Bianca, you've saved my life. Just for that, I'll protect you until the day I die."

He gently brushed her hair back, his gaze darkening with affection. "Adriana's my wife. She should have embraced you with me. But instead, she kept targeting you, forcing you to the edge."

Something hardened beneath the softness of his words, the quiet menace that made a room go still when the Don entered it. "I don't even want to imagine... if my men hadn't cut you down in time, I could've lost you forever. I would never have forgiven myself."