It was a breezy afternoon when Jenny arrived, her face pale and her eyes darting nervously. She clutched a rolled-up newspaper in one hand as if it carried a weight too heavy for her to bear. I should have known then that her visit would change everything.

“Alicia,” she said, her voice trembling. “You need to see this.”

I was sitting on the porch, humming a tune while arranging a bouquet of daisies. Life had been simple, quiet. The bump in my stomach reminded me of the small miracle I was carrying. But as I looked at Jenny, the blood drained from my face.

“What is it?” I asked cautiously, my hands stilling.

She thrust the newspaper into my hands, and I unrolled it. My eyes locked onto the headline: “Serena De Santis-Russo and Antonio Russo Announce Pregnancy on Fifth Wedding Anniversary.”

My heart sank. Antonio Russo? My mind refused to connect the dots, but my eyes betrayed me. Right there, smiling like he hadn’t shattered my world, was Paolo—no, Antonio—standing beside an elegant woman, her hand resting on her small, but noticeable baby bump.

“No...” My voice cracked as I staggered back, the newspaper slipping from my hands. “This can’t be real.”

Jenny’s hand gripped my arm. “I tried to tell you, Alicia. I went to the city and dug around. Paolo—Antonio—he’s not who he said he was. He’s married. He’s part of the De Santis family. You… you were just a distraction.”

A distraction. The word sliced through me. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The man I had fallen for, the father of my child, was nothing more than a lie. Every moment we shared, every whispered promise, was a cruel joke.

I stumbled back into the house, clutching my stomach as if it would keep me grounded. The baby. My baby. What had I brought them into?

Before I could even process the betrayal, there was a sharp knock on the door. Jenny and I exchanged a panicked glance. The knock came again, harder this time.

“Alicia Costa?” a gruff voice called out.

My heart raced. Something was wrong. I hesitated, but Jenny, braver than me in that moment, opened the door.

A group of men in dark suits stood there, their expressions cold and unforgiving. The leader, a burly man with a scar running down his cheek, stepped forward. “You messed with the wrong family. You should’ve stayed out of it.”

I felt my legs turn to jelly. “I don’t understand,” I stammered. “What do you want?”

“Antonio Russo,” the man sneered. “You thought you could carry his child and get away with it? Serena doesn’t take kindly to mistresses, especially ones who think they’re important.”

Mistress. The word burned. I hadn’t even considered myself one. But before I could defend myself, they stormed inside. Chaos erupted. Jenny screamed, trying to shield me, but one of the men shoved her aside. My mother came running from the kitchen, her voice rising in panic.

“Leave my daughter alone!” she shouted, stepping between me and the men.

The leader pulled out a gun. Everything froze. “Stay out of this, old lady,” he growled.

“Don’t you dare,” my mother spat back.

The crack of the gunshot echoed in the small house. My mother’s body crumpled to the ground, lifeless. A scream tore from my throat as I lunged toward her, but another man grabbed me, pinning my arms behind my back.

Jenny tried to fight them, but she was no match. A second gunshot rang out, and she fell too. Blood pooled around her.

“No! Please, stop!” I begged, tears streaming down my face. My body trembled with rage and grief, but I was powerless.

The men dragged me out of the house.

“You should’ve known better,” the leader hissed. Behind us, I heard the roar of flames. They had set the house on fire.

I thrashed against their hold, desperate to escape, but it was no use. The baby inside me stirred, a painful reminder that I had to survive this. For them. For my child. The last thing I saw before they shoved me into a van was the life I had known reduced to ashes.

As the van doors slammed shut and the engine roared to life, I made a silent vow. Whoever these people were, whoever they thought they were, Antonio and Serena Russo, they had taken everything from me. My mother. My best friend. My home. But I wasn’t done.

I clutched my stomach protectively, my tears drying as anger hardened my resolve. They would regret this. They all would.

When I woke up, the world was dark and suffocating. My wrists and ankles burned from the rough rope binding them, and my face felt raw where the tape stretched across my mouth. The van jolted over uneven roads, each bump sending pain shooting through my aching body. I wanted to cry, to scream, but exhaustion pulled at me, the weight of everything that had happened crashing down. My mother. Jenny. Gone. My home, my life—reduced to nothing but smoke and blood.

I fought back, I remembered that much. But there were too many of them. And now, I was here—being carted off to some unknown fate. My baby stirred inside me, a soft fluttering that reminded me why I couldn’t give up. I had to survive. I had to protect the only thing I had left.

At some point, the fight drained out of me. My eyes closed, and the darkness swallowed me whole.

When I woke again, the air was stale and cold. My head pounded, and my limbs were stiff from being tied for so long. I opened my eyes to dim light filtering through cracks in the wooden walls. It was an abandoned place—dusty, silent, and filled with the scent of decay. My hands were still bound, my mouth still taped. Panic threatened to rise, but I forced myself to stay calm. The baby needed me strong.

Time passed slowly. I lost track of the hours. Then, finally, I heard footsteps—two sets. The door creaked open, and two men walked in. They were rough-looking, their eyes hard and suspicious.

“She’s awake,” one of them grunted.

“Good. Means less dead weight,” the other sneered.

I knew I had to think fast. I mumbled against the tape, trying to get their attention. They exchanged glances before one of them walked over and ripped the tape off my mouth. I bit back a cry of pain.

“I—I need the bathroom,” I said, my voice trembling. “Please. I’m pregnant. I—”

Their eyes flickered with hesitation. The one closest to me frowned. “We’re not supposed to—”

“Please,” I begged, my voice cracking. “I need to go. The baby—”

After a tense moment, they relented. “Fine. But no funny business.”

They untied my ankles and guided me to a filthy, rundown bathroom. Once inside, they stayed close, but I used the door for cover. My heart pounded as I scanned the tiny space, searching for anything I could use. I spotted a rusted pipe jutting out from the wall. Grabbing it, I twisted hard until it broke free with a soft crack.

The second they opened the door, I struck. The pipe hit one of them across the head, and he crumpled with a groan. The other lunged, but desperation gave me strength. I jabbed the pipe into his stomach and ran.

The cold air hit me as I burst out of the building, my legs screaming in protest. I didn’t look back. The sound of shouts followed me, but I pushed forward, my baby’s safety the only thing on my mind.

I ran until my lungs burned and my vision blurred. When I heard their voices getting closer, I spotted a large, empty barrel and crawled inside, curling up and trying to quiet my ragged breaths. The voices passed, and eventually, the night grew silent.

When I emerged, the world was still and dark. I stumbled forward, every muscle aching, until I saw the silhouette of a field house in the distance. With the last of my strength, I made my way inside.

The pain started soon after.

It hit fast and hard, and I knew—I was going into labor. Fear gripped me, but there was no time for it. I had no choice but to deliver my baby alone.

Hours passed in a haze of agony and determination. And then, finally, the cries of my baby girl filled the air.

Tears streamed down my face as I held her close, her tiny body warm against mine. For the first time in what felt like forever, hope blossomed in my chest. “Chloe... My baby...”

But exhaustion won. My eyes closed, and the world faded.

When I woke up, she was gone.

Panic tore through me as I scrambled to my feet, searching the field house. I called out, my voice breaking, but there was no answer. My baby—my precious baby—was gone.

I ran outside, the cold biting into my skin, but I didn’t care. I ran and ran, searching the endless fields, my heart pounding in terror. But there was nothing. No sign of her.

Desperation drove me to the highway. The sound of an approaching car made me stumble forward, waving my arms. The last thing I saw was the blinding glare of headlights before the impact.

And then—darkness.

When I woke again, the scent of antiseptic filled my nose. I blinked against the harsh hospital lights, my body heavy and aching. And then the memories crashed down on me.

My baby.

I tried to sit up, but pain held me down. Tears filled my eyes.

“Where’s my baby?” I whispered.

No one answered.

“My baby!” I screamed, my voice raw and frantic. “Where is my baby?!”

Wires and tubes were attached to my arms, restricting my movements, but I thrashed against them, my heart pounding wildly. My hands clutched the sheets, my nails digging into my palms as I fought against the overwhelming panic.

The door burst open, and a man and a woman rushed in. The woman came to my side, her hands reaching for me, her voice soft and soothing, but I didn’t want comfort. I wanted answers.

“Where is she?” I sobbed, my voice breaking as tears spilled down my face. “Where is my daughter?”

The man’s voice was sharp and commanding. “Calm down.”

I barely registered him as I continued to cry, my body shaking uncontrollably. But then his voice cut through the chaos like a blade.

“If you don’t calm down, I will return you to the place we found you.”

I froze.

My breath hitched, my fingers curling into the thin hospital blanket. That place. The abandoned house. The field. The night I gave birth. My child—gone. The agony clawed at my chest, but his threat made me pause. Whoever this man was, he had the power to send me back to the nightmare I had barely escaped.

I swallowed hard, forcing my breath to slow, though the sobs still wracked my body. My hands trembled as I clutched the fabric of my hospital gown. “Please,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Help me find my child.”

The man’s sharp gaze didn’t waver, but after a tense moment, he nodded. “We will, but you need to calm down first.”

The woman beside me placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, her expression filled with sympathy. “Let’s get you back into bed, okay?”

I let them guide me, though every muscle in my body was tense. The man turned on his heel, exiting without another word, his presence as cold and distant as the winter air. Hera waited until the door clicked shut before she spoke again.

“I’m Hera,” she said gently. “And that was my brother, Hector. We’re the reason you’re here.”

I swallowed, my throat dry. “Why?”

Hera sighed. “We hit you with our car. You ran into the highway, unconscious. We couldn’t just leave you there.”

Everything felt like a blur. The field, the empty space where my baby should have been, the cold pavement before the blinding headlights swallowed me whole. My stomach twisted. I clutched the blanket around me tighter.

“Do you remember what happened?” Hera asked cautiously.

I hesitated. I didn’t know if I could trust them. But what other choice did I have?

“I was kidnapped,” I said, my voice hoarse. “They took me from my home. My mother... my best friend...” My voice cracked. “They killed them. They burned my house. And then they took me away because I was pregnant with the child of a man who belonged to another woman.”

Hera sucked in a sharp breath. “Who?”

I met her gaze, my fingers curling into fists. “Antonio Russo. Or as I once knew him, Paolo Santoro.”

The reaction was immediate. Hera stiffened, her eyes widening in shock. Before she could respond, a deep voice cut through the room.

“You know them? De Santis and Russos?”

I turned sharply, finding Hector standing in the doorway. He hadn’t left after all. He had been listening. His expression was unreadable, his presence dark and imposing.

I nodded slowly. “They took everything from me. And I want to make them pay.”

Hector studied me for a long moment, then stepped forward. “You're not the only one who has unfinished business with them.”

My chest tightened, but I met his gaze with unwavering determination. “What do you mean?”

Hector’s jaw tightened slightly, his dark eyes narrowing. “The De Santis family owes me more than just money. They owe me a debt that can never be repaid. And Antonio Russo? He’s just another piece of the filth tied to them.”

Hera’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t interrupt as Hector continued. “You want revenge, Alicia? Then you’re going to have to cooperate with me. Because I want the exact same thing.”

A shiver ran down my spine. This wasn’t just about me anymore. Hector had his own vendetta, one that ran deeper than I could understand. And yet, I could feel the intensity in his words, the weight behind them.

He walked toward me, his presence looming, and then he extended his hand.

“But if you want true revenge, you have to forget Alicia Costa. That name is already known to them. After what they’ve done to you, they probably already think you’re dead. Or, if they found out you had escaped, I am certain that they will be watching, and waiting for you to make a move. So, as long as you remain as Alicia, you will never get close enough to destroy them.”

My pulse raced, my breath shallow as his words sank in. Forget Alicia Costa? Bury who I was? My entire life, my identity—gone?

Hector’s voice was calm, but it held an undeniable finality. “You need to become someone else. Someone untouchable. A woman they would never see coming. You need a new identity, a new life, a new purpose.”

I clenched my fists, swallowing down the last remnants of hesitation. If this was what it took, if this was the price I had to pay to make them suffer as I had suffered—then so be it.

Hector’s lips curled into a smirk, his dark eyes gleaming. “You will become Francheska Falcon. My wife. My dead wife.”

My breath caught in my throat. I had lost everything. I had nothing left to lose. And yet, this offer... this deception...

It was my only way forward.

I reached out and took his hand.

And with that, my vengeance will begin.