I was recuperating at my family's lake house in the Catskill Mountains when a sudden storm knocked out all communication and power.

I slipped on the slick terrace stairs and took a nasty fall.

Lying in a pool of my own blood, I fumbled for my phone. With the last bar of signal, I called my husband, Cillian Fitzpatrick—the man who was supposed to be handling family business—and begged him for help.

"Today is the anniversary of Liliana's father's death, and she's a wreck. I'm just keeping her company. Can't you stop being so damn paranoid? You're due any day now. I'll be back, alright? Stop being so dramatic."

On the other end of the line, I heard Liliana's tearful, aggrieved voice. "Cillian, it's all my fault. Am I bothering the Principessa?"

Without another word, Cillian hung up.

My best friend and sister-in-law, Cassidy Donnelly, found me. She held me, sobbing, as she frantically called her husband, Ronan Fitzpatrick, for help.

"Are all pregnant women this fucking crazy?" Ronan snapped. "Don't you start with the same manipulative bullshit as Alessia. Cillian and I are with Liliana. We don't have time for this."

Then, he blocked her.

My injuries were too severe. The family's rescue team was trapped down the mountain by the floodwaters and couldn't possibly reach me in time.

Even though she was heavily pregnant herself, Cassidy managed to get me into a bulletproof car and navigate the washed-out mountain roads to get me to the family's private doctor.

I miraculously survived. My baby did not.

The grief and physical strain were too much; Cassidy lost her baby, too.

"I want a divorce," I whispered, my eyes swollen from crying.

"Me too. I'm done with Ronan."

Together, we submitted our request to the family.

And that was when Cillian and Ronan completely snapped.

————————

1

The moment word of my divorce request got out, Cillian Fitzpatrick called.

"Alessia, you can't keep throwing these tantrums just because you're pregnant. I have my limits, you understand?"

"You're a Principessa, born with a silver spoon in your mouth. You're used to a world of betrayal and lies—of dirty deals."

"But just because your world is dark, don't project your filthy assumptions onto me. Liliana is like a sister to me. Her father died for my brother and me, and it's my duty to take care of her."

"And just because I'm honoring my promise doesn't make me a bad husband. You're due any day now; I'll be back in time. Why are you making such a big deal out of this?"

He sounded like a man who truly believed he was the victim.

White-hot rage surged through me. "I fell down the stairs, Cillian. I lost our child. I almost died. If that's nothing, then what the fuck do you consider a big deal?"

"That's enough, Alessia. Stop testing my patience with your prejudice against Liliana. You know how much I care about you and the baby, but you're always so aggressive. It's not fair to me."

He had the audacity to turn this back on me? If he really cared, why wasn't he there when I was fighting for my life?

I was trembling with rage. "Enough. Come back. I want a divorce!"

"You need to get a handle on your emotions. You're still pregnant, and I'm not going to argue with you. Just stay put and try to rest. Liliana's hungry; I'm going to make her dinner."

Just like when I had begged for my life yesterday, Cillian calmly hung up the phone.

Meanwhile, I sat there, clutching the swaddling blanket I had prepared for our lost child, and sobbed my heart out.

My best friend, Cassidy Donnelly, had cried herself into a stupor. When she called her husband, Ronan Fitzpatrick, from her mother's phone, he immediately berated her.

"It takes real talent for you two to piss Cillian off. He's the most loyal person I know."

"If you're such a good actress, maybe you should quit managing those bars and join Alessia on stage. Liliana doesn't like to be disturbed when she's eating, so stop calling."

"Call one more time, and I'll make sure no one from the Donnelly family can ever contact me again."

To Cillian and Ronan, Cassidy and I were just two jealous, melodramatic women. They didn't care that we had just lost the heirs to our families.

The De Lucas and the Donnellys all rushed to our side, worried sick about us.

But Cillian and Ronan were the only ones who didn't show.

On the day of the private memorial for our lost children, Cassidy made one last, desperate attempt. She tried to call Ronan, but by then, he had blocked everyone even remotely connected to her.

I called Cillian over a dozen times before he finally picked up.

"It's not your due date yet, why are you calling again? I just got Liliana to sleep, and now you've woken her up. When are you going to stop acting like a spoiled Principessa?"

I forced myself to remain calm. "It's our son's memorial service today. And our nephew's. I told you and Ronan. Get over here now."

That infuriated him. "Alessia, what line won't you cross for your ridiculous need for control? You keep cursing our child. Don't you think that's twisted?"

Rage choked the words in my throat.

Cassidy snatched the phone from my hand and snarled, "No mother would ever joke about her own child! The service is at the family cemetery. If you and Ronan have an ounce of doubt, get your asses over here and see for yourselves!"

The family cemetery was less than a three-hour drive from the penthouse. But Cassidy and I waited for six hours. Cillian and Ronan never showed up.

After the memorial, Cassidy was devastated. She cried every day until her eyes were permanently red and swollen.

I wasn't much better. I woke up from nightmares night after night, unable to find a moment of peace even with sleeping pills.

Meanwhile, we saw photos from an underground information broker. In one, a bare-chested Cillian and Ronan were leaning languidly against a floor-to-ceiling window, smiling at Liliana.

Liliana sat nearby, her cheeks flushed. She was biting her lip, sketching their chiseled bodies on a large drawing pad.

The photo cut off at their waists, but the lines on her sketchpad left nothing to the imagination.

A note with the photos read: "I've seen those perfect bodies so many times I'm starting to get bored. I'm in no rush to finish this sketch, but they're so wrapped up in me they won't even take a phone call."

Shortly after I saw that intelligence, another file came through. This time it was a video. In it, Cillian was hand-washing her underwear while Ronan massaged her lower abdomen.

She let out soft moans, her cheeks a delicate pink.

The broker included comments from his other clients:

"Damn, this girl is living the life. Let me trade places with her for a few days!"

"The brothers are both into her, right? Liliana, which one do you want?"

"She's an adult. Obviously, she wants both!"

Liliana bit her lip and glanced at them both. "I'm so useless. I'm just on my period, and I need both of you to take care of me."

Cillian smiled and patted her head. "Don't be silly. You'll always be our little princess."

Ronan nodded seriously. "That's right."

...