I don't remember how I left the estate, only that I walked for a long, long time, holding Luca's hand.

His face was streaked with tears, but he didn't make a sound, his small face red from the effort of holding back sobs.

"Mommy, that was Papa... right?"

"He lied to us, didn't he?"

"He just doesn't love us. That's why he let us starve and freeze, right?"

Seeing him sob, my heart broke.

I was the fool. For a love that wasn't real, I had made my son suffer with me for five years.

I thought of how, while Luca and I were begging our landlord for a rent extension, he was spending a fortune at an auction for the woman he loved.

Now, on Luca's birthday, my son was crawling through a humiliating dog door in a storm to help me fit clothes for servants, while he was planning the most lavish birthday party for his lover's child.

I stroked Luca's head and finally made a decision. "Mommy doesn't want that Papa anymore."

"I'll take you away, Mommy will. We'll go to a place without lies, okay?"

"Okay!" Luca cried, his small body trembling. "Let's go far, far away, and never see him again."

Back in that dark basement, the two of us shared a cold, cheap piece of cake.

Late that night, the lock turned. Santino was back.

He had shed the imposing persona of the Don and changed back into the cheap jacket I had bought him from a street stall.

The cloying scent of expensive perfume still clung to him.

"Still awake?" He loosened his tie, his expression weary, his acting flawless. "Something came up at the site today. I'm late."

Before, I would have rushed to heat up soup for him, my heart aching. But now, all I felt was disgust.

I sat in the darkness, without turning on a light, and pushed a document across the table.

"Sign this."

"What's this? An insurance policy?" He frowned, and just as he picked up a pen, his phone vibrated in his pocket.

It wasn't on speaker, but I could still make out Riley's sickeningly sweet voice. "Santino, Finn is making a fuss. He says he can't sleep unless you tell him a bedtime story."

Santino's expression instantly softened. That gentleness was a knife twisting in my gut. "Alright, I'll be right over." He hastily signed the document without a glance.

"I have to go. I won't be back tonight." He grabbed his jacket and turned to leave.

At the door, his hand tightened on the frame, as if he was holding something back.

I watched his back, my voice as soft as a sigh. "Santino."

He stopped, turning back, "What is it now?"

"Nothing." I looked at him, but in the end, I didn't say what I was thinking. "It's cold out. Stay warm."

In the end, he just walked out.

"Mommy, that's a divorce agreement, right?"

Luca looked up, his face pale, his small hands clutching the divorce papers stamped with the Connor Family crest.

I knelt down, stroking my son's soft, curly hair, my heart clenching as if squeezed by an icy hand.

"According to Connor Family rules, there's a one-month review period, Luca."

"But don't worry. We're protected by the Family's rules. No one can touch us. When the month is up, Mommy will take you away from New York, and we'll never come back."

Luca nodded forcefully, his eyes shining brightly, looking so much like Santino's.

For the next week, Santino vanished. He didn't return to the basement, and I heard nothing about anyone interfering with the divorce papers I had quietly submitted to the Family.

The elder who handled family divorces was an old friend of my father's. He would do everything he could to help me keep it secret until it was all settled.

I didn't even have to go out of my way to find news about the celebrated Don.

I only had to listen to the gossip from the low-level enforcers collecting protection money on the street corners to piece together his movements.

"Hey, you hear? Don Connor popped ten bottles of Louis XIII at the club last night just because that woman, Riley, said the champagne was too dry."

"And get this, I hear he bought her son a purebred racehorse for over half a million dollars!"

"I heard the Don has a wife, but she's never been seen in public. Poor thing."

I lowered my head, my fingernails digging so hard into my palms that they drew blood.

A half-million-dollar racehorse.

And my Luca, malnourished as he was, looked more like a three-year-old than a five-year-old.

In the leaked photos that circulated, Santino looked at that mother and son with a fiercely protective gaze.

It was a look I had never once received during my five years in the slums.

I stared at those blurry photos, and each one felt like a dull, rusty saw dragging across my heart.

I remembered that cold night five years ago, when I thought he had chosen to leave the life for me. There was no grand Sicilian wedding, no wedding dress. We hid in that moldy basement like rats.

For five years, to make ends meet, my fingers were pricked countless times by sewing needles.

And Luca, from the moment he could understand, learned to help me sort fabric and make deliveries, all to ease the burden on his supposedly "down-and-out" father.

How ridiculous.

Even after seamlessly taking his place as Don of the Connor Family, he continued to play the part of a pitiful failure for me.

On the evening of the seventh day, Santino returned.

The lock turned, and he entered, bringing with him the chill of the late night and the faint, expensive scent of perfume.

He didn't even look at me. While unfastening his cufflinks, he spoke coldly, "Get Luca dressed. I'm taking him out."

I froze, the needle in my hand nearly piercing my fingertip.

He had made it clear that for his own safety, Luca was never to be exposed to the world of the Family.

Why the sudden change of heart?

"Tomorrow," I said, instinctively blocking the door to Luca's room. "It's too late tonight. He's still getting over that bad cough."

Santino's expression darkened. His mask of patience slipped, and for a moment, I saw the ruthless Don beneath.

Just as his temper was about to snap, a knock came at the door. It was our landlady, Mrs. Russo.

Santino frowned, the annoyance of being disturbed making him look like a caged lion. "So late. What is it?"

Not wanting him to know my plans, I spoke first. "I'm thinking of moving. I was just talking to the landlady about the lease."

"I found a cheaper place."

Santino didn't suspect a thing.

In his eyes, I was just a poor woman who complained about the five-hundred-dollar monthly rent. He nodded indifferently, loosening his tie. "Go talk outside. Don't make a racket in here. I'll watch Luca."

I hesitated.

But he was Luca's biological father. He wouldn't harm his own son. I could only nod.

Mrs. Russo was a kind-hearted old Italian lady. She pulled me into a dark corner of the stairwell.

"Erin, you're really leaving? If the rent is too much, I can lower it a little more..."

"No need, Mrs. Russo." I shook my head, lowering my voice. "The boy's father and I are separating. We're leaving the city soon."

The old woman's eyes widened in shock. "What? Leaving Mr. Connor? Heavens, my dear, have you gone mad?"

She paused, then sighed. "It must be his idea, right? After all, I see how much you love him, putting up with this life for his sake. You'd never leave on your own."

I lowered my eyes, a bitter taste on my tongue.

So even an outsider could see how pathetic my love for him had been.

Seeing my silence, Mrs. Russo didn't press the issue. She just patted my hand sympathetically. "Since you've decided, then so be it. God bless you, Erin. That man will regret losing you one day."

However, when I finished the conversation and pushed the door open, my blood ran cold.

The room was empty. Luca was gone.

My hands trembled as I dialed Santino's private number.

No answer.

My nineteenth call went unanswered. A fear I had never known before seized my throat. I burst out of the room, grabbing everyone downstairs and questioning them like a madwoman.

These people weren't ordinary tenants; they were all Santino's lookouts.

Seeing my state, they knew there was no point in hiding it anymore.

One of the low-level enforcers, a man I had once helped, told me with a troubled expression, "Don Connor took the young master. He got into a black, armored car. The license plate belonged to the Family's medical unit."

A chill ran down my spine. I stumbled to the private clinic controlled by the Connor Family.

It was the place where the family dealt with gunshot wounds and other off-the-books procedures.

The clinic was heavily guarded, but my identification was still valid, and it got me inside.

Outside a diagnostic lab, one only core family members could enter, the heavy door was slightly ajar.

Santino's voice drifted out. "The specialist is sure this will work. The data will give them the diagnostic model they need."

Then came Riley's voice, laced with false concern. "But Santino, this cardiac stress test... the specialist said it's strenuous. And Luca is so small, and you heard Erin, he's sick. If she finds out you're doing this for Finn, won't she..."

Santino's gaze was fixed on the complex machinery inside the lab. "Finn's condition remains unresolved. The doctors are running out of time. This experimental test is our only hope, and it requires a test sample of the same age."

"I am Luca's father. According to Family tradition, the firstborn son carries the burdens of the Family. He will do his duty."

"I won't let her interfere."

I clamped a hand over my mouth, tears streaming down my face.

So his sudden appearance today wasn't to make up for his absence as a father.

His sudden warmth was a ploy to lure my son, who was already weak, to a clinic and use him like a lab rat for an experimental procedure.

I had thought he'd had a change of heart, that he wanted to finally act like a father.

I never imagined he would risk our son's health for a diagnostic test for Riley's precious boy.

So much for the sacred bond of blood.

Blinded by rage, I burst into the sterile clinic room.

"Santino! You brought Luca here to use him as a guinea pig?"

"Have you no soul? He's your son, and he's just getting over being sick!"

Santino was standing by a window, smoking. He turned his head at my voice. When he saw me, his brows furrowed, as if my very presence was an offense.

Riley feigned shock, taking a step back.

Santino's thin lips parted. "Erin, this is a private Connor Family clinic. Don't scream like a madwoman."

"And besides, you're upsetting Riley."

"A madwoman?" I repeated, trembling, my tears splashing on the marble floor.

"Luca worships you! In that moldy basement, he drew pictures of you every day and called out for Papa in his sleep! He's just a little boy, and his body is weak! And you?"

I tried to rush him but was blocked by two bodyguards.

I struggled desperately, my eyes fixed on Luca, who was being fitted with electrodes and sensors, his small face pale with fear as he looked at the intimidating treadmill.

"You trampled on his adoration, and now you're going to run him to the point of collapse for a medical experiment?"

"Erin, don't be so dramatic. It's just a diagnostic test. He'll be fine."

Santino flicked his cigarette ash, his voice pure ice. "Finn's condition is critical. We need this data. Luca is my son. It is his duty to carry this burden."

I wanted to slap him, but I couldn't move. "You bastard! You don't deserve to be a father!"

Santino finally lost his patience.

He stood up and grabbed my chin.

"Erin, know your place. Don't force my hand."

Just then, a technician spoke up hesitantly.

"Don, the boy is showing signs of respiratory weakness from his recent illness. Pushing him through a full-protocol stress test could lead to severe respiratory distress or even cardiac strain."

A flicker of reluctance crossed Santino's face, but it vanished in an instant.

He turned to me, "You will stand behind that glass. You will smile, and you will encourage him. If he stops before the test is complete, the data is useless. If he panics because of you, I'll have you removed."

"If you don't agree, you'll be on your own for Luca's recovery after the test."

He was forcing me to watch, to smile as my son was tortured.

I stared at the man I had loved for five years. I looked at him, and then I laughed.

I laughed until tears of despair streamed into my mouth, salty and bitter.

"Fine, Santino. You win."

I was made to stand behind a glass partition. I watched as they started the treadmill.

Luca began to run, his little legs churning. He kept looking at me, his eyes wide with a plea for help. I forced a smile, but my heart was breaking.

I watched his breathing become ragged, his face flush with a feverish heat. The clinical beeping of the heart monitor grew faster, more erratic. He stumbled, whimpering, "Mommy, I'm tired."

"Keep going!" I heard Santino's voice bark through the intercom. I bit through my lip, my mouth filling with blood. My vision swam, then blackened.

Every second stretched into an eternity.

But I had to stay conscious.

I couldn't collapse here. I had to take Luca away.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, Luca's legs gave out. He collapsed onto the moving belt before a technician lunged to hit the emergency stop.

I heard Santino's cold voice,"That's enough. We have the data. Get it to the specialist for Finn. Take the boy to a recovery room."

I don't know how much time passed before Luca's voice pulled me back.

"Mommy!"

His face was ashen, an oxygen mask covering his small nose and mouth. His breathing was shallow and labored, and a rattling cough shook his small frame.

"Mommy, it hurt to breathe," he whispered, his voice muffled by the mask, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. "I was so scared I'd never see you again."

I pulled his small, feverish body into my arms, careful of the tubes, and my own tears finally broke free. "I'm so sorry, Luca. Mommy couldn't protect you."

I was a fool to believe that man had even a shred of humanity left.