I thought it was Lorenzo, rushing back from Sicily the moment he got the news. Instinctively, I called out in a soft, spoiled whine:

"Caro, it hurts..."

"If it hurts, maybe you'll learn your lesson. Know your place."

The cold voice snapped me back to reality instantly.

Standing by the bed wasn't the imposing man I expected, but Marco.

"Why are you here?" My face went cold. "The cops didn't lock you up?"

"Elena!"

Marco sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed and trying to take my hand.

"Stop making a scene. Do you have any idea how much Frank paid to bury this? Do you want all of New York laughing at our family?"

He switched to a look of deep concern.

"Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant? Do you know how dangerous that was?"

I ripped my hand away from his.

"If you hadn't been screwing around in my house and then shoved me, would the baby be in danger?"

Marco’s eyes looked conflicted, as if he were weighing a decision.

"I'm sorry, but I still can't marry you."

He took a deep breath, his tone shifting to one of matter-of-fact entitlement.

"I know you love me. I know you renovated the house and got pregnant on purpose just to trap me. But I gave my word to my father that I'd marry Bella. The family needs a pure bloodline."

"But don't worry. Bella is kind; she'll tolerate you. You can be my comare (mistress). I'll set you up in an apartment in Brooklyn, and I'll come see you two days a week..."

I laughed out of sheer anger.

He actually thought I got pregnant to win him back? And he wants me to be his side piece?

"I refuse," I cut him off coldly.

"Why! Do you have to push me like this?!" Marco shouted, his shame turning into anger.

"If you're not with me, who else is going to want damaged goods like you? Especially with extra baggage?"

I grabbed the pregnancy report from the bedside table and smashed it into his face.

"Open your damn eyes and look! This baby has nothing to do with you!"

"And who I choose to marry has nothing to do with you either!"

"You want me to be your mistress? Keep dreaming!"

Marco held the report, stunned.

I sneered, "Three months. Marco, surely you haven't forgotten what happened three months ago?"

Hearing this, Marco’s face instantly went pale.

Three months ago was my birthday, the day he was supposed to propose.

I waited for him at a Michelin-starred restaurant for four solid hours.

All I got was a text: "Urgent business came up. I'll be late."

Finally, the restaurant closed, and I was kicked out into the pouring rain in a thin dress.

On the ride home, I scrolled past Bella’s Instagram.

"I told him I was scared of the thunder, so Marco bailed on a multi-million dollar deal just to keep me company."

The photo showed him feeding her soup, wearing the engagement ring I had picked out on his finger.

That night, in despair, I went to the family’s private club to drink my sorrows away.

Marco disappeared for the entire next day. When he finally came home, we had a massive blowout fight. He acted completely self-righteous: "She's your sister! She just got back and isn't adjusted yet. What's wrong with me taking care of her? Why are you so jealous?"

In the end, he took off the ring and threw it out the window.

"Since you feel that way, then let's just forget the wedding! If you hadn't taken Bella's spot, she was the one I was supposed to marry anyway!"

My heart died completely in that moment.

"Fine. I hope you get what you want. The engagement is off."

Marco paused as he was leaving, then said indifferently:

"Suit yourself."

That same day, Bella’s Instagram updated with photos from Paris.

Marco was holding her waist intimately, kissing her under the fireworks at the Eiffel Tower.

For three whole months, Marco was with her.

So how could the baby in my belly possibly be his?

"Three months..." Marco muttered to himself. Then his face turned from pale to red—the rage of humiliation.

Slap!

Another strike across my face.

"Elena, you slut! You slept with some random guy just to get back at me?!"

He grabbed my jaw in a death grip, his eyes murderous:

"If I had known you were carrying some bastard's spawn, I never would have brought you to the hospital!"

"Who is he?! Forget it, it doesn't matter! You're coming to the operating room with me right now. We're getting rid of this mistake!"

"Let me go!" I screamed, struggling.

Marco dragged me toward the operating room like a dead dog. This was a private hospital controlled by the family; the doctors and nurses all took orders from the D'Angelos.

I was pinned down onto the cold operating table, my legs spread in humiliation.

"Marco D'Angelo! If you dare touch this child, you'll regret it!" I hissed.

Marco stood to the side, lighting a cigarette, and coldly ordered the doctor: "No anesthesia. Teach her a lesson. Get rid of it immediately."

The cold metal instruments touched my skin, and despair almost drowned me.

Just then—

Bang!

The doors to the operating room were kicked open. Two large men in black suits rushed in, instantly taking down the doctor and nurses.

Immediately after, an elderly man with gray hair but a sharp, vigorous presence walked in.

It was Luca, the Don's most trusted Consigliere.

"I dare anyone to touch her!" Luca’s voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable authority.

Marco froze, then frowned. "Uncle Luca? Did my father send you? Tell Father this is a family matter, he doesn't need to worry about it."

Luca looked at Marco coldly, his eyes like he was looking at a dead man.

"Miss Elena is the Don's honored guest. If you dare lay another finger on her, you can say goodbye to those casino businesses."

Panic flashed in Marco's eyes. In this family, Lorenzo's word was law.

"I understand... I'll explain it to Father personally when he returns." Marco gritted his teeth, glared at me viciously, and turned to leave.

Luca immediately had his men help me down and respectfully draped a coat over my shoulders.

"Miss Elena, you've suffered. The Don knows the young master almost harmed you and... the child. He's already on his private jet and will arrive in New York tomorrow morning."

I touched my stomach, still shaken.

"I'm fine... I just need to hold on until he gets back."

Luca gave me a meaningful look.

"In the Don's eyes, nothing is more important than you and the little master."

I insisted on being discharged. I had to go back to the apartment to get some important items—tokens Lorenzo had left for me.

However, when I rushed back to the apartment, the sight before me was suffocating.

My once luxurious bridal house had been turned into a funeral hall.

The furniture was smashed to pieces, and the walls were splashed with red paint reading "PUTTANA" (Whore) and "LADRA" (Thief).

In the center of the living room sat a black coffin.

It was surrounded by funeral wreaths.

"Who did this?!" I was trembling all over.

At that moment, Bella was livestreaming on her phone. Standing amidst the ruins, she cried crocodile tears:

"Yes, right here... my sister who was switched at birth. She stole twenty years of my life. Now that she's been exposed, she not only refuses to call off the engagement, but she also got pregnant by some random man and tried to pin it on Marco..."

"She even tried to kill me... she conspired with outsiders to steal the family assets..."

The comments were full of vicious curses. My phone started vibrating like crazy with countless death threats.

Even my boss at the art gallery sent a message.

"Elena, we're terminating your contract. You offended people you shouldn't have."

I rushed forward to snatch Bella's phone.

"You lying bitch!"

But several tattooed, foul-smelling men stepped out of the shadows and blocked my path. They were Marco's enforcers.

Marco walked out of the bedroom, playing with a switchblade.

"Elena, you've disappointed me. Since you won't abort that bastard, don't blame me for not being sentimental."

"What are you doing?" I stepped back.

"Don't you like wild men?" Marco smiled cruelly.

"I've contacted 'The Convent'—the place that specializes in breaking women. There are plenty of Russians there who will love you. Once you learn how to be an obedient bitch, we'll talk about how to deal with that baby."

The thugs approached me with lewd grins, forcibly dragging me toward a black, unmarked van parked downstairs.

"Let me go! I am Lorenzo's woman! If you touch me, he'll cut you into pieces!" I screamed in despair.

Marco stood by the car door, laughing in contempt: "Still dreaming? Why would my father ever want someone like you? Take her away!"

The door slammed shut, and darkness filled with the smell of mold and blood enveloped me.

"Heard this broad is pregnant? Bet that adds a special flavor..." One of the thugs started tearing at my clothes.

Just when I thought it was all over—

A black, armored Bentley appeared, blocking the van's path!