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.

Luca, wincing with each wheezing breath, raised his small hand and clumsily wiped away my tears. "Don't cry, Mommy. It... it doesn't hurt as much anymore. I don't blame Papa. Maybe I'm just not strong enough."

His maturity was a blade twisting in my heart.

I took a deep breath, forced myself to sit up, and said, word by word, "Luca, listen to me. We don't need Papa anymore."

Luca froze, his eyes wide above the oxygen mask.

My eyes were resolute. "As soon as the review period is over, we're leaving."

"Where are we going?"

"To a place with no Connor Family, no lies, and no pain."

Luca nodded forcefully. "Okay! As long as I'm with Mommy, I'll go anywhere."

Just as he finished speaking, the door to the room was thrown open.

The loud noise made Luca flinch, and he broke into another fit of harsh coughing.

Santino stood in the doorway, his eyes fixed on us. "Leaving?"

"And where do you think you can run with my son?"

The moment Luca saw Santino, he scrambled into my arms in terror.

"Don't come any closer," he whimpered. "Mommy, I'm scared."

I held my trembling, feverish son tightly and looked up. "Get out. Luca doesn't want to see you."

Santino stopped, his displeasure clear on his face.

Before, this child had always clung to him like a puppy, looking at him with worshipful eyes. And I had been utterly obedient.

This sudden coldness was new to him, and he was offended by it.

But he quickly reverted to the arrogance of a Don. He adjusted his cuffs, his tone detached.

"Riley just returned to New York. As a family ally, it's my duty to look after her and her son. The test was a success, Finn has been diagnosed, and Luca is alive. Stop being so dramatic."

Still alive. The words were a slap across my face.

"So you admit he's not your son?" I swayed, my body a live wire of rage. "But Luca is!"

"For an outsider, for a woman you have no formal ties to, you forced your own sick son through a medical stress test that nearly stopped his heart and left him with severe respiratory distress!"

Santino took a step closer. "Erin, you knew the situation five years ago. You chose to stay. You insisted on having this child."

"All these years, whether you were suffering in the slums or enduring this for Finn, you did it all for me, didn't you? A testament to your love?"

He reached out to touch my face, but I flinched away.

Santino's hand froze in mid-air, a flicker of disappointment flashing through his eyes.

"This is the path you chose, isn't it?"

My ears were ringing.

Yes, it was my choice.

I was stupid enough to think love could soften a stone. I was naive enough to believe that if I endured enough, he would eventually turn back to us.

In the end, the only one I'd convinced was myself.

I reaped what I sowed.

I clenched my jaw, refusing to let the tears fall. "You're right, Santino. I made my choice."

Finally, the adoration in my gaze was gone.

"You're being irrational," he said coldly before turning to leave.

For the next few days, Luca and I were kept in the private ward.

It felt less like treatment and more like house arrest.

The nurses in the hallway were always whispering.

"Did you hear? Don Connor bought Miss Riley a pink diamond necklace yesterday. A million dollars."

"Yeah, they say it was to celebrate her son's diagnosis. He really spoils them rotten."

"What about his actual wife and son in that room? I heard they put the poor kid on a stress treadmill until he collapsed, just for a test for the other boy."

"Shh, keep your voice down. It's just pitiful."

Every word was a slap in the face.

But I couldn't feel the pain anymore. Once a heart dies, all that's left is the will to escape.

The day we were discharged, the sunlight was so bright it hurt to look at.

Luca stared at a cake in a shop window, swallowing hard, but then obediently looked away without a word.

For five years, to play along with Santino's "going straight" act, Luca had never had a decent meal or a new set of clothes.

I felt the small wad of cash left in my pocket.

"Come on, Luca." I took his hand, forcing a smile. "Mommy's taking you out for a nice meal."

I wanted him to know that even without his bastard of a father, I could still give him the world.

A waiter showed us to our table.

I was holding the menu, explaining to Luca which pasta was which, when a familiar, grating laugh came from the table next to us.

"Santino, this truffle is delicious. Finn loves it."

I slowly turned my head. At the best table by the window, Santino was gently cutting a steak for Riley.

Finn sat beside them in a custom-tailored suit, his face glowing with health, looking nothing like a child who had just undergone major surgery.

"Papa, I want that lobster!" Finn demanded, tapping his fork against his plate.

Santino didn't correct him. Instead, he tenderly cut the lobster meat and placed it on Finn's plate. "Alright, eat slowly."

Luca saw it all. He gripped his fork tightly, his eyes fixed on the fatherly love he had never known.

"Should we go?" he asked in a small voice.

"No," I said, placing my hand on his. "We paid. We have a right to be here."

Finn saw us.

He jumped down from his chair, picked up a steaming bowl of soup from the table, and walked straight toward us.

Riley saw him but just covered her mouth with a light laugh, making no move to stop him.

Finn stopped in front of Luca.

"Hey, who let you in here?"

Finn's voice was sharp and cruel. "What are peasants like you doing in a place like this?"

After he spoke, he flicked his wrist.

The bowl of scalding lobster bisque tipped, without warning, right toward Luca.