My best friend, Cassandra Thorne, and I were pawns, married into the Grimaldi crime family to solidify their power. We were even arranged to get pregnant at the same time.

I married Donovan Grimaldi, the family's Underboss. Cassandra married his younger brother, Julian Grimaldi, a ruthless Capo.

The discomfort of my pregnancy was a constant plague. I was on my way to the family's secret clinic for a check-up, with Donovan driving.

But on the way, he received an urgent call from his old flame, Seraphina Russo. To deal with what she called a "territorial crisis," he thrust me out of the car into a torrential downpour, abandoning me in the most dangerous part of Chicago's South Side.

I grabbed his arm, begging, "Donovan, please! It's not safe here! Just take me to the clinic first, okay?"

Donovan impatiently shook me off. "Seraphina's life is on the line! This is about family honor! Evelyn, can't you get your priorities straight? I have to deal with this now! Get to the clinic yourself!"

The rain was relentless, but Donovan abandoned me in that lawless neighborhood without a second thought.

Left with no other choice, I called Cassandra to come get me. But as she sped toward me, a heavy-duty truck came barreling toward us, completely out of control.

Drifting in and out of consciousness, I heard Cassandra’s frantic, tearful call to Julian, only for him to viciously berate her.

"Cut the crap, Cassandra! Do you really have to pull these stunts for attention every time I'm with Seraphina?"

A passing family Soldato found us and called for backup, getting us rushed to the family's private clinic. We survived. But tragically, we both lost our babies—the long-awaited heirs to the Grimaldi family.

After regaining consciousness in the clinic, we looked at each other and shared a bitter smile.

"Want to escape this place together?"

"Of course."

————————

1

My hand drifted to my now-flat stomach as I whispered, "I'm so sorry, my sweet baby." Hot tears streamed down my face, a bitter smile twisting my lips. A life had been growing there—an heir to the Grimaldi family.

…

My husband, Donovan Grimaldi, had abandoned me for Seraphina Russo. He had abandoned me on the rain-battered streets of the South Side, heedless of my safety or that of our unborn child.

So, I unlocked my phone and sent Donovan a formal request to leave the family.

He usually took forever to reply, but this time, my phone rang almost instantly.

"Evelyn Monroe! Are you out of your mind, turning your back on this family and your own blood?" Donovan roared. "All because I didn't drive you to the clinic? You'd invent a lie like that? What kind of mother uses her own child as a bargaining chip?"

He continued, "I've already told you—Seraphina is fragile. She's an asset the family needs to protect. I was just doing my duty.

"And you had to go crying to Julian about it? Seraphina is our responsibility, period! If your jealousy pushes her over the edge and threatens this family, you'll be branded a traitor! Do you understand?"

He hung up.

The dial tone buzzed in my ear, my breath catching in my throat. Seraphina was an asset to be protected. And me? Wasn't I his wife?

I could tolerate him fussing over her day in and day out. But just the day before, he knew I was suffering from excruciating abdominal pain.

I was carrying his heir. Yet he still left me to fend for myself in Chicago's most dangerous neighborhood, letting the heavy rain soak me to the bone.

And all of this was just because Seraphina had whimpered over the phone, "Donny, I think I saw those people from last time near my place… I'm so scared. Do you think I'm a burden? Maybe I shouldn't have been saved by you all in the first place."

Hearing those words, he immediately spun the car around and drove back to her.

I had desperately tried to stop him, not because I was afraid of the rain, but because I was terrified of what the chaos might do to my baby.

I begged Donovan, tears streaming down my face, but he just dragged me out of the car. He tossed a flimsy, barely-functional umbrella at my feet and sped off, leaving me alone in the storm and the darkness.

With nowhere else to turn, I called my best friend, Cassandra Thorne.

When she heard what happened, she was livid, cursing a blue streak and vowing to make Donovan pay.

With Cassandra's help, I finally stumbled into the passenger seat. I had just fastened my seatbelt when an out-of-control heavy-duty truck barreled toward us.

I didn't have time to react. All I could do was use every ounce of my strength to shove Cassandra across the console, out of the direct line of impact.

The world dissolved into a nightmare of shrieking metal. I was trapped. Almost immediately, a warm gush spread between my legs, and I felt our child, the Grimaldi heir, slipping away from me.

I trembled all over, wanting to scream for help, but no sound would come. Tears blurred my vision.

In the haze of unconsciousness, I heard Cassandra's frantic sobs and Julian Grimaldi's snarling voice.

"Cut the crap, Cassandra!" Julian roared. "So, you invent a car crash whenever I'm with Seraphina?"

"Seriously? A car crash? That's ridiculous. Do you have any idea how low the chances of an 'accident' like that are on our own turf?"

"I'm warning you. Stay away from that crazy friend of yours! Don't be a drama queen like her. Seraphina is unstable right now, and I'm calming her down. Don't bother me!"

In the end, it was a passing Soldato who called it in, summoning the family's private medical team that rushed Cassandra and me to the clinic.

…

Although Cassandra and I both survived, we lost our children forever.

I glanced at Cassandra, who was clutching her phone tightly. The surgery had left her deathly pale.

"I'm sorry. I never thought Julian could be so cruel," she whispered, fresh tears tracing paths down her cheeks.

The delay cost me dearly. I was forced into a high-risk emergency surgery, and in the end, my uterus had to be removed.

Julian, however, was convinced Cassandra was just jealous of Seraphina. He dismissed her pleas as lies, blamed her for the drama, and refused to authorize the surgery.

I could never have a child of my own again.

I sighed. Just as I was about to speak, a call came in from Julian.

"Are you insane? Yesterday it was a car crash, today you're claiming a miscarriage? What's next? Threatening suicide tomorrow?"

"Worse, now you're threatening to leave the family. You've learned all the wrong things from Evelyn, nothing but her manipulative games!"

Julian continued, "If I didn't have to help Seraphina clean up the mess our rivals left, I'd come over there and teach you both a lesson!

"Donovan's already under enough pressure as the Underboss. Not only is Evelyn unsupportive, but she creates drama every day. Honestly, they should just separate. Having a woman like her as my sister-in-law makes me sick!"

The call ended abruptly.

I looked at Cassandra. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her body trembling uncontrollably.

I reached out and covered her hand with mine. "Don't listen to him. Get some rest. We're leaving this place together when this is over."

In an instant, Cassandra's composure shattered, and a fresh wave of sobs shook her body.

Seeing her tear-streaked face, I couldn't help but cry too. The arranged marriage we believed would be our salvation had instead dragged us both into this hell.

Ever since Seraphina was taken in by Donovan as a spoil of war after a rival family's fall and diagnosed with severe trauma, the Grimaldi brothers had revolved around her every waking moment.

Donovan even delegated many family affairs to his subordinates just to personally "treat" Seraphina.

He called her every night to help her sleep, his deep voice a soothing balm for her fragile nerves.

Meanwhile, I was suffering from severe morning sickness. I could barely sleep, but he said I was overreacting.

"The other family women get through it just fine. Why are you so much trouble?" Donovan had once snapped.

He would take Seraphina to the opera and to exclusive clubs but denied my simple request for a walk in the manor gardens.

"Don't you have Cassandra? Seraphina only has Julian and me."

I grew anxious watching my body change during pregnancy. Not long after, I was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

But when Donovan found out, he shot me an impatient glare, spitting the words out with barely concealed disgust. "Seraphina has trauma, and now you're copying her? Evelyn, do you really think it's fun to pretend to be sick?" Copying her? My diagnosis was a game to him.

In fact, I had been diagnosed with PTSD and had even considered ending my life. It was only with Cassandra's help that I slowly began to heal.

The baby was the only light in my dark marriage. But now, that light was gone.

As the child's father, as the Grimaldi family's Underboss, even if Donovan didn't care about me, he should have at least called to check on his heir. Yet, all he did was blame me.

Perhaps, in his heart, I was no longer the wife who could secure his position.

Lying in my clinic bed, I scrolled through Seraphina's social media feed. Her latest post was a picture of her and Donovan, cheek to cheek.

A delicate, decorative band-aid was on one of her fingers. Donovan and Julian had claimed her self-inflicted wound was so minor it didn't even need a bandage. If it weren't for the high-resolution photo, no one would have noticed the nearly invisible mark.

In the background, Julian was in the kitchen, preparing a late-night snack for her.

Seraphina's caption read: "Thank you, Donovan and Julian. You always drop everything to be with me when I'm at my lowest."

The comments section was filled with praise for the Grimaldi family and envy for her.

Someone wrote, "I'm so jealous! To be protected by the Grimaldi brothers like that!"

Another comment read, "I heard you went through something terrible. Stay strong and get well soon, future Donna Grimaldi!"

Beside me, Cassandra scoffed. "Well, trash belongs with trash. They're a perfect match."

"Evelyn, stop looking. This has nothing to do with us anymore. I've already contacted the family's Consigliere to draft the separation agreement. Want to do it together?"

I tore my gaze from the screen and nodded.

…

Before long, the family separation agreements were ready. When I received mine, Seraphina had already made another post.

This time, the photo was of a lavish meal. The caption read: "My personal chef, Julian, is an amazing cook. Everything he makes is delicious!"

Next to Seraphina, a man's hand reached over to put food on her plate. The hand belonged to my husband. The finger that once wore his Grimaldi family wedding ring was now bare, with only a faint indent to mark where it had been.

I pressed my lips into a thin, white line, blinking hard against the sting of tears.

After signing the agreement, I had someone deliver the document to Donovan's office.

I wanted a clean break. So, when I saw the document had been delivered, I called him.

Donovan was clearly busy; I had to call several times before he finally picked up.

Before I could utter a word, he exploded. "Evelyn Monroe! Are you out of your goddamn mind? What the hell is this separation agreement?"

"You want to leave the family? And you sent it to my office! Do you want all the family elders to see how jealous and tactless you are?"

My eyes stung with unshed tears. I had specifically written our private clinic's address on the envelope. A single glance would have told him I was still there. Yet, he hadn't asked a single question about my well-being.

I held back my tears and was about to speak when Seraphina's sweet voice cooed through the phone. "Donny, I absolutely love this necklace. But you really didn't have to spend so much money on me."

Donovan clearly hadn't expected her to speak.

After a slight rustle, he explained sharply, "Seraphina liked this diamond necklace, so I bought it for her. Don't get the wrong idea.

"Where are you now? Come over and apologize to Seraphina. She's not well, yet she's still worried about you. She's such a kind woman. Stop being so domineering and learn some manners."

Donovan's tone held a hint of smugness, as if my world would crumble if he didn't forgive me.