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.”

Aria’s POV

The room fell into stunned silence.

The doctors and nurses exchanged uneasy glances, disbelief etched across their faces.

“Mr. Russo,” one of the senior nurses began cautiously, “your wife cannot donate. You heard the diagnosis. Mrs. Russo is pregnant, and the pregnancy is unstable. Even minor complications could cost her the baby.”

Enzo didn’t blink.

“I heard,” he replied evenly, stepping forward with cold authority. “Proceed.”

The attending physician swallowed. “Sir, this violates medical protocol. We could lose both mother and child.”

“I don’t give a damn about protocol,” Enzo cut in, his voice sharp as a blade. “You’re being paid very well. Do your job.”

My lungs felt tight, like there wasn’t enough air in the room. I stared at him in disbelief.

This was the man I had once trusted with my life. The man who had sworn to protect me. Now he stood there, ordering doctors to gamble with our child as if it were expendable.

Enzo’s jaw hardened as he surveyed the staff. “If anyone here refuses, I will shut this hospital down by tomorrow morning. I own half the board members. Don’t test me.”

The threat wasn’t empty. Everyone in the city knew what the Russo name could do.

The nurse turned to me, her voice softer now. “Mrs. Russo… we need your consent.”

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Enzo.

“You told me you wanted a child,” I said slowly, my voice trembling. “Now that you finally have one, you’re ready to sacrifice it over a staged fever?”

His expression darkened. “You were going to terminate it this morning.”

“I changed my mind,” I shot back. “You heard the doctor.”

He exhaled impatiently. “Camilla’s pregnancy is stable. Yours is fragile. The specialists already said you may lose it regardless.”

My stomach dropped.

“So you’re choosing hers over mine?”

“It’s not about choosing,” he said, though his tone suggested otherwise. “Her vitals are unstable. She needs blood. Your pregnancy is uncertain at best. You might not carry it past the first trimester.”

The words echoed hollowly in my ears.

This wasn’t medicine.

This was preference.

And I wasn’t the one he preferred.

“You’ve already decided,” I whispered.

For a fraction of a second, something unreadable crossed his face. But before he could answer, Camilla let out another weak cough from the bed.

Enzo turned immediately, rushing back to her side.

That was answer enough.

A strange calm settled over me.

There was no point in arguing anymore. He had already made up his mind. The staff were trapped by his power, just as I was.

The nurse squeezed my arm gently. “Mrs. Russo… please. We need a clear answer.”

I looked at Enzo one last time.

He didn’t even glance back.

My throat tightened, but I forced the words out. “Do it.”

The doctor moved quickly. The needle Russod my skin, and dark red flowed into the tubing.

I didn’t flinch.

I didn’t cry.

I simply stared at the polished floor tiles and tried to steady my breathing.

At first, it was just a faint wave of lightheadedness.

Then it intensified.

My chest constricted sharply, and a cold dizziness swept through me.

Something wasn’t right.

I tried to lift my head, but my vision blurred around the edges. My heartbeat pounded violently, uneven and too fast.

The nurse monitoring me glanced at the screen and went pale. “Her pressure is dropping!”

“Stop the transfusion,” the doctor ordered urgently, rushing toward me. “She’s crashing!”

Camilla whimpered loudly.

“No!” Enzo barked, shoving the doctor aside hard enough to stagger him. “Keep going. Camilla needs it!”

“She’s stable!” a nurse shouted. “Her vitals are normal!”

“You don’t know that!” Enzo roared. “Look at her. She’s in pain!”

Another sharp wave of agony tore through my abdomen, and I cried out despite myself.

Enzo didn’t look at me.

Not once.

All of his attention remained fixed on Camilla.

The room spun violently. My body felt like it was slipping away from me, like I was no longer fully inside it. I tasted iron at the back of my throat.

So this was how it ended.

Not in a gunfight. Not in a betrayal exposed.

But in a hospital room, sacrificed for another woman’s lie.

Regret flooded me as Dominic’s face surfaced in my mind. The way he had said finally, as if he had always known this moment would come. I had asked him to wait.

I had hesitated.

The medical staff were arguing with Enzo now, voices raised in panic, but he stood firm, unmoved, staring at Camilla like she was the only person who mattered.

My lips moved weakly.

“God… please…” I breathed, barely audible. “Protect my baby…”

The ceiling lights blurred.

The voices faded.

And then everything went dark.

Aria’s POV

When I opened my eyes again, I almost wished I hadn’t.

Every inch of my body throbbed as if I had been beaten from the inside out. There was a hollow weight in my chest, a strange emptiness that felt worse than pain.

“Mrs. Russo… you’re awake.”

A female doctor stood beside the bed, relief flickering across her face. “We were afraid we might lose you.”

My throat felt scorched raw. My limbs were heavy, bruised, foreign. I blinked against the harsh hospital lights, disoriented. For a few seconds, I didn’t understand where I was or why my body felt like it had survived a war.

Then it all came back.

The transfusion. Enzo’s order. The dizziness. The shouting. The darkness swallowing me whole.

My heart began to pound.

I turned my head slowly toward the doctor, dread crawling through my veins.

She was trying to maintain a professional expression, but I saw it—the sympathy.

“My baby…” The words scraped out of my throat. “Is my baby…?”

She hesitated.

That single pause told me everything.

My stomach dropped as though I were falling from a great height. The doctor inhaled carefully and shook her head.

“I’m very sorry,” she said softly. “We tried everything. But the pregnancy couldn’t be saved.”

For a moment, the world went silent.

Then the sound that came out of me didn’t feel human.

It tore from somewhere deep and broken. My chest constricted violently, as if someone had punched straight through my ribs. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t accept it.

I had thought I was beyond tears.

I was wrong.

I sobbed until my body shook, until my throat burned, until the grief felt like it might split me open. I cried for the child I had already imagined holding. For the tiny heartbeat that had existed inside me. For the miracle I had chosen too late.

And for the man who had stolen it from me.

A part of me wished I had gone through with the abortion that morning, before I allowed myself to hope. Losing the baby now—after choosing it—felt like being carved open alive.

The doctor stayed quietly by my side, giving me space to break.

Eventually, the sobs faded into ragged breathing. I wiped my face with trembling hands, though the tears kept coming anyway.

Dominic.

The thought cut through the fog.

“What day is it?” I asked hoarsely.

“It’s Thursday,” she replied gently. “You’ve been unconscious for two days.”

Two days.

I calculated quickly. The three days Dominic had given me were nearly gone.

“I need my phone,” I said urgently, trying to sit up despite the sharp pain that protested through my abdomen.

“It’s in the drawer beside you,” she said, moving to help, but I was already reaching for it.

My hands trembled as I typed.

—I accept. Meet me at the orphanage in three hours.—

The response came almost immediately.

—Finally. I was starting to think you would hesitate forever.—

I stared at the screen for a moment before replying.

—I won’t.—

The doctor studied me carefully. “Is there anything else you need?”

I forced a brittle smile. “Did anyone come to see me?”

Her expression shifted slightly.

“No,” she admitted. “No one.”

Of course not.

Enzo hadn’t come. Camilla hadn’t come. The so-called family I had sacrificed everything for hadn’t bothered to check if I was alive.

Strangely, I didn’t feel the sharp sting I expected.

I felt nothing.

Just an emptiness where something precious had once been.

I turned my face toward the wall and lay there quietly until I heard the soft click of the door closing behind her.

After a while, I pushed the blanket off.

Every movement sent a surge of pain through my body. My stitches pulled. My muscles screamed in protest. I ignored it all.

A nurse entering the room froze when she saw me attempting to stand.

“Mrs. Russo, you shouldn’t be out of bed. You’ve lost significant blood. You need more rest—”

“I’m leaving,” I said evenly.

She blinked. “You’re not cleared for discharge. We haven’t even completed—”

“I’m not asking for permission,” I cut in, my voice steady but devoid of warmth. “Bring me whatever forms you need signed.”

She hesitated, clearly torn between procedure and something in my expression that warned her not to argue.

After a moment, she nodded and left.

When she returned with the paperwork, I signed without reading.

Standing upright felt like walking through fire. My legs trembled under my own weight. My back ached with every step. But pain was easier to endure than staying in that room another second.

I gathered my belongings and stepped into the hallway.

Halfway down the corridor, something made me slow.

Through the glass window of a private suite, I caught sight of Enzo.

He stood beside Camilla’s bed, his posture relaxed. She was sitting upright now, laughing softly at something he had said. Her cheeks were no longer pale. There were no machines beeping frantically around her.

They looked… comfortable.

Untouched by the chaos that had nearly killed me.

Enzo leaned down and kissed her forehead.

And neither of them looked even remotely concerned.