Aria's POV

The impact of his hand sent me crashing sideways.

My head snapped to the side, and before I understood what had happened, the world tilted violently. I hit the marble floor hard enough to knock the air from my lungs. A sharp cry escaped me, more from shock than pain, and for a brief second my vision dissolved into darkness.

When the blackness cleared, pain bloomed across my cheek in a hot, throbbing wave. I lay there on the cold floor of the guest room, stunned and unable to move.

Enzo had just struck me.

In all the years of our marriage—through blood deals, turf wars, betrayals from rival families—he had never raised a hand to me. Not once.

My mind scrambled uselessly for logic. Had I said something? Done something? Nothing justified this.

I blinked hard, fighting the dizziness, and slowly pushed myself upright. My palms trembled against the polished floor as I steadied myself. When my vision sharpened, I saw Camilla standing a few feet behind Enzo.

Her arms were folded loosely across her chest, and tears streamed down her face. She looked small. Fragile.

Convincing.

“What is happening?” I managed, my voice rough and unsteady.

Enzo loomed over me, chest rising and falling with controlled fury. “You laid your hands on her?” he demanded. “On a woman carrying my child?”

The accusation made no sense. “What are you talking about?”

“She came to check on you,” he continued, his voice rising. “And you attacked her? Have you completely lost your mind?”

For a moment I could only stare at him.

Camilla stepped forward hesitantly, her shoulders trembling as if she were holding herself together by sheer will. “I just wanted to bring her tea,” she said softly. “She seemed upset, and I thought maybe we could talk. But she started yelling. She said I ruined her life.” Her voice cracked convincingly. “Then she hit me.”

I stared at her in disbelief.

“She told me I deserved to die,” Camilla added in a whisper, lowering her eyes. “I didn’t want to say anything, Enzo, but she scared me.”

The audacity of it left me breathless.

“You’re lying,” I said quietly, still seated on the floor. “I never touched you.”

Her lower lip quivered, and she looked away as if my denial wounded her further.

Enzo didn’t hesitate.

“Get up,” he growled. “And get out of my sight before I forget you’re my wife.”

I looked up at him, my cheek burning, my lip throbbing. “You actually believe her?” I asked. “You think I would hurt her?”

For a split second, something flickered in his eyes—doubt, perhaps—but it vanished just as quickly.

“You’re not yourself anymore,” he said coldly. “Jealousy has twisted you.”

A hollow laugh slipped from me. “Jealousy? Of what?”

I tasted metal and realized my lip had split open. I wiped at it with the back of my hand, ignoring the sting.

Enzo’s gaze dropped briefly to the blood on my mouth. His jaw tightened, and for a moment he looked almost conflicted. He took a step toward me.

“Aria—”

“Enzo,” Camilla interrupted faintly, pressing a hand to her temple. “My head is spinning. She hit me harder than I thought.”

His attention shifted immediately.

He turned his back on me without hesitation and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him as if she were made of glass. She leaned into him, fragile and trembling.

I watched in silence.

She glanced at me over his shoulder.

There were no tears in her eyes now. Only satisfaction.

Three more days, I reminded myself.

Three days, and I would never have to see this house again.

~

The following morning, I left before the household staff stirred.

The drive to the clinic felt unreal, like I was watching someone else move through my life. My chest tightened as I sat in the waiting area, staring at nothing while the seconds crawled by.

My hand drifted to my stomach almost unconsciously.

It was still flat, unchanged, betraying nothing of what was growing inside me. But I knew.

A child.

After years of believing it was impossible, after accepting the whispers that I was broken, useless, incapable of giving a mafia dynasty an heir, life had taken root inside me.

Tears threatened again, but I forced them back. This wasn’t about emotion. It was about survival.

A nurse called my name.

I stood slowly, my legs feeling heavier than they should. She led me into a private consultation room where the doctor reviewed my file before turning around.

The moment his eyes met mine, recognition dawned.

“Mrs. Russo?” he said, startled.

He had been there six years ago, standing at the foot of my hospital bed after the accident, delivering the verdict that my body would likely never carry a child.

I offered him a faint, strained smile.

He glanced down at the chart in his hand, then back at me. “You’re certain about this?”

My throat felt tight. Words wouldn’t come.

He set the file aside and approached, his voice gentle but firm. “You need to understand how extraordinary this is. After the trauma you experienced, this pregnancy is nothing short of a miracle.”

I closed my eyes briefly.

“If you go through with the procedure,” he continued carefully, “there is a very real possibility that you will never conceive again. Not even with intervention. This could be your only chance.”

The weight of his words settled over me like chains.

Only chance.

I thought of Enzo’s hand striking my face. Of Camilla standing in my bedroom, draped in my robe. Of Dominic waiting for my answer.

My life had already fractured beyond recognition.

Now I had to decide which pieces to keep.

Aria’s POV

His warning echoed in my ears long after he finished speaking.

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The doctor’s words—miracle… your only chance—collided violently with everything that had happened over the past few days. My heart hammered so hard it hurt.

My hand drifted instinctively to my stomach again.

I thought about the nights I had cried alone in the Russo estate, staring at the ceiling while Enzo slept beside me. I remembered the hollow ache every time another mafia wife announced her pregnancy at some formal gathering, the way I would excuse myself before anyone noticed the tears in my eyes. I remembered praying in silence for something—anything—that would fill the emptiness I carried.

And now that miracle was here.

And I had been ready to erase it because of a man who had already erased me.

The realization shattered whatever restraint I had left. Tears spilled freely as I covered my mouth, my shoulders trembling. The thought of willingly ending the only life that had chosen me felt unbearable.

“No,” I said hoarsely, shaking my head. “I can’t.”

The doctor studied me carefully. “You’ve changed your mind?”

“I’m keeping this baby,” I replied, my voice unsteady but resolute. “I don’t care if I have to do it on my own. This child isn’t a mistake. It’s the only blessing I’ve been given.”

A faint smile touched his face. “Then we’ll make sure you receive proper care. With your history, we’ll monitor you closely.”

When I stepped out of the hospital later, the air felt lighter somehow. For the first time in days, I felt something stronger than despair.

In three days, I would walk away.

And this time, I wouldn’t be alone.

“Aria!”

The sharp call of my name froze me mid-step.

Enzo.

I turned slowly, tension coiling through my body. He crossed the hospital entrance in long strides and grabbed my arm before I could speak, his fingers digging in tight.

“Thank God I caught you,” he said, breath uneven, eyes alert in a way that told me this wasn’t about reconciliation.

I pulled my arm slightly. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Camilla,” he replied quickly. “She’s been admitted.”

I blinked. “Admitted?”

“She ran a fever all night,” he said, his tone sharpening. “After what you did to her.”

My jaw tightened. “I didn’t touch her.”

He ignored that entirely. “She collapsed this morning. The doctors say she’s dehydrated and weak. They need to give her blood.”

My stomach twisted. “And?”

Enzo’s gaze locked onto mine. “Her blood type is rare. You’re a universal donor. You’re the only compatible match available immediately.”

For a second, I simply stared at him.

“You want me to donate blood to her?” I asked quietly.

“This isn’t about pride,” he snapped. “It’s about saving my child.”

He started pulling me toward the entrance.

I resisted, digging my heels into the pavement. “There are blood banks. Private reserves. You control half the city’s hospitals. Why me?”

He turned sharply, eyes hard. “Because this is happening because of you.”

The accusation stunned me. “She lied to you!”

“I don’t have time for your paranoia,” he cut in coldly. “She’s carrying my heir. If anything happens to her—”

Something inside me cracked.

“I’m pregnant,” I said.

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

He went still.

“What did you just say?”

“I’m pregnant,” I repeated, louder now, my voice trembling despite myself. “The doctor confirmed it. It’s high risk. If I donate blood, it could endanger the baby.”

The silence stretched painfully.

Then he laughed.

It wasn’t disbelief. It was contempt.

“You expect me to believe that?” he said, shaking his head slowly. “You think inventing a pregnancy is going to get you out of this?”

“I’m not lying,” I whispered, tears rising again despite my effort to stay composed. “You know what the doctors said after the accident. They called this impossible. It’s a miracle.”

His expression hardened further. “You’ve always wanted leverage. Now you think this is clever.”

“Enzo—”

“Enough.” His voice dropped into something final. “You will donate. That’s not a request.”

Anger surged through me, stronger than fear this time. I pulled my arm free.

“I won’t,” I said, meeting his gaze without flinching. “I won’t risk my child for her.”

His face darkened.

“You’d let someone die because of jealousy?” he demanded.

“I won’t sacrifice my baby,” I replied firmly. “Not for Camilla. Not for you.”

The fury in his eyes burned bright.

“If you walk away from this,” he said slowly, his jaw clenched tight, “I will personally tear down that orphanage your father built. Brick by brick. And I’ll make sure you’re there to watch.”

The threat landed exactly where he intended.

The orphanage was the last living piece of my father’s legacy. The only place in this city untouched by blood money and power games.

Enzo knew that.

He leaned closer, his voice low and lethal. “Choose carefully, Aria.”

And in that moment, I realized something with absolute clarity.

I was no longer afraid of losing him.

I was afraid of what I was about to become if I stayed.

Aria's POV

Ice flooded my veins the second he mentioned the orphanage again.

He knew exactly where to strike. That building wasn’t just charity work funded by dirty money. It was my father’s last clean legacy in a world soaked in blood. He had built it long before alliances with the Russo family, before power hardened him completely. The children there were the only innocent thing left in my life.

“You wouldn’t dare,” I whispered, though my voice betrayed me.

Enzo stepped closer until I could feel the heat of his anger. His mouth twisted, not into doubt, but into challenge. “Test me.”

For a moment I simply stared at him. This was the man I had once trusted with every fragile piece of myself. The man who had promised to protect what I loved. Now he was threatening to burn it down.

My hand drifted to my stomach again. Silent tears slipped down my cheeks.

When he grabbed my wrist and started pulling me toward Camilla’s wing of the hospital, I didn’t fight this time. I followed, numb, the threat echoing in my ears.

He had secured a private VIP suite for her, the kind reserved for politicians and cartel leaders. Camilla lay on the hospital bed surrounded by machines that beeped steadily, an IV line running into her arm. She looked pale, eyes closed, lips slightly parted as though she were barely conscious.

Enzo rushed to her instantly.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice softening in a way I hadn’t heard directed at me in months. He clasped her hand gently. “You’re going to be fine. I brought Aria.”

Camilla let out a weak, trembling sound. “Enzo… it hurts… everything hurts…”

I stood near the door, watching my husband bend over her with tenderness that felt like a knife twisting inside my ribs. He brushed her hair away from her face, murmuring reassurances.

Then he turned to call for the doctor.

The second his back was to her, Camilla’s eyelids fluttered open.

One eye.

She looked straight at me.

And she winked.

A slow, deliberate wink, followed by the faintest curve of her lips.

My blood roared in my ears.

Was this entire spectacle a performance? Was I about to risk my child for an act staged by a woman who enjoyed humiliating me?

Rage tightened my fists.

I stepped forward, ready to expose her, but Enzo’s hand shot out and gripped mine hard enough to bruise. His fingers dug into my skin in silent warning. His stare was sharp, unmistakable.

Don’t.

The memory of his threat regarding the orphanage snapped me back into place.

The door opened again, and a physician entered. Enzo moved toward her immediately.

“She’s deteriorating,” he said. “Start the transfusion.”

The doctor checked the monitors calmly. “Her vitals are stable for now. We can delay until we confirm—”

Camilla whimpered louder.

Enzo’s patience snapped. “The donor is here,” he said curtly, gesturing toward me as if I were nothing more than medical equipment.

The doctor’s gaze shifted to me briefly before she nodded and instructed the nurses to prepare.

Cold sweat trickled down my back as I watched them ready the tray. I had always hated needles. Enzo knew that. In the past, he would have stood beside me, holding my hand, distracting me until it was over.

For a fleeting second, he looked at me as though he remembered that too. His hand hovered near mine.

Then Camilla made another fragile sound.

Enzo withdrew instantly and returned to her bedside, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as though I had ceased to exist.

Something inside my chest tightened painfully.

I turned my face away as the nurse approached with the needle. My stomach churned with fear—not of the injection, but of what it might cost.

Please, I begged silently. Please let something stop this.

Just as the doctor lifted the needle toward my arm, the door burst open.

“Stop!”

Another physician hurried inside, holding a file, breathless.

Everyone froze.

He looked directly at Enzo. “Mrs. Russo is pregnant.”

The doctor holding the needle paused mid-motion and stepped back.

Enzo stared at the newcomer as though he had spoken nonsense. “That’s impossible.”

“She was scheduled for a termination this morning,” the doctor continued quickly, holding out the chart. “She canceled. The test results are here.”

Enzo took the file, scanning it with narrowed eyes.

Relief flooded me so suddenly my knees nearly gave out. Proof. Finally, proof that I hadn’t lied. That I wasn’t inventing stories to escape responsibility.

I exhaled for what felt like the first time in hours.

Then Enzo closed the file.

His voice, when he spoke, was colder than I had ever heard it.

“Proceed.”

The word didn’t register at first.

My eyes widened slowly. “What did you say?”

He didn’t look at me.

“I said take the blood.”