My hand trembled as I pointed to the most vicious comment on the phone screen.

Someone had even put a screenshot of my face during labor next to a photo of one of the family's enemies moments before their execution.

"Carter, that is your wife, the mother of your son. You let other men use my most vulnerable moment for their entertainment, for their humiliation, and you think it's just a joke?"

Carter's brow furrowed in annoyance as he took the phone from Sofia.

He casually sent an "Alright, don't take it too far" sticker into the group chat, then turned back to me.

"That's enough, Sloane. Don't be so dramatic."

"You gave me an heir. I'm happy, and I wanted to share the joy with my men. If you don't like it, don't look. Now be good."

I went rigid, unable to believe those words had come from his mouth.

But then I realized, perhaps I had never truly known him at all.

The affection I thought I saw was just the cheapest kind of mask, hiding the callous playboy underneath.

The thought that I had spent five years of my life with a man who would so casually expose my privacy to others sent a chill down my spine.

Looking at his face now, I couldn't help it. I leaned over the side of the bed and gagged.

"Is there..."

I gasped for air, unable to suppress the sickening feeling of humiliation rising in my chest.

"have you sent out anything else?"

Carter raised an eyebrow, seeming to give the question serious thought. He was silent for a few seconds.

"No. I promise."

I was about to breathe a sigh of relief, thinking he had at least retained some final shred of decency as a husband.

But then he continued, "I wanted to, though."

"But back then, we were just married, and we didn't have a child yet. How could I bear to show you off to others? "

"If I did that, what if the financial genius I worked so hard to woo decided to leave me?"

"You're disgusting!"

I was shaking with rage, my hands, braced against the bed, trembling uncontrollably.

I clenched and unclenched my fists, and finally, unable to stop myself, I used every last bit of strength I had to swing my hand at Carter's face.

He saw it coming, catching my wrist in mid-air with ease.

"Shhh, Sloane."

He tightened his grip, his thumb tracing my pulse point as a smirk played on his lips. "No violence now. You just gave birth. Save your strength."

I struggled pathetically, but he held me fast.

Just then, the hospital room door swung open.

Several of Carter's Capos swaggered in, laughing, carrying expensive cigars and bottles of red wine.

They walked right past my bed and piled their gifts in Sofia's arms.

"Hey Sofia, heard you were the one who captured the sacred moment! We came to see the little boss!"

"Boss, c'mon, let us see if the kid's got the right equipment."

One of them, a brutish man with a fleshy face, was the same one who had bet in the group chat that I would have a girl.

As I watched Sofia preen and lead them toward the bassinet, alarm bells screamed in my head.

"Carter."

With my wrist still in his grip, I could only turn a pleading gaze to him.

Carter paused. Seeing my pale face and disheveled hair, a flicker of pity crossed his eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice softening.

"Make them leave. Please. The baby just fell asleep. Don't let them near him."

At my words, the warmth that had just entered Carter's tone instantly vanished.

"Sloane, they came to see the baby out of kindness. Why do you always have to be so judgmental?"

"They mean no harm. Relax."

"Sigh, Sofia's right. You women are all the same, so high-strung, petty, and always keeping score."

My nails dug into my palm. I fought through the pain, about to say more.

But over by the bassinet, the drunk Capo was already leaning over.

"Well now, the little guy's sleeping soundly."

He pulled a freshly cut, thick cigar from his pocket and grinned, his breath reeking of alcohol.

"Here, let your uncle give you a proper baptism. This is what a real man smells like."

As he spoke, the hand holding the stinking cigar moved toward my newborn son's mouth.

His other filthy hand was even reaching to undo the baby's swaddle, to touch his body.

I screamed. A mother's instinct took over.

I lunged, sinking my teeth hard into the soft flesh of his hand between the thumb and forefinger.

The taste of his blood filled my mouth.

Carter yelped in pain, his grip instinctively loosening.

Ignoring the tearing agony in my own wound, I threw myself forward like a madwoman, using my body to block the space between that filthy hand and the bassinet.

"Get away! Don't touch him!"

Tears I could no longer hold back streamed down my face as I looked at my son's peaceful, sleeping face.

The violent movement tore my incision open. Bright red blood bloomed across my white hospital gown, spreading in an alarming stain over my abdomen.

The searing pain nearly made me pass out, but I held my ground, shielding my son with everything I had.

"All of you, get out!"

The men looked to Carter. They had always looked down on me, so they paid my order no mind.

Carter clutched his bleeding hand, his expression dark.

But when his eyes landed on the blood spreading across my stomach, he finally frowned and waved the others away.

"Alright, everyone out."

Once the room was empty, even Sofia had retreated sullenly to the doorway.

Carter looked at me, and there seemed to be some heartache in his eyes.

"I'll go get a doctor right now. Hang in there, baby."

As I watched his retreating back, I took a ragged breath, wiped a tear from my eye, and said in a cold voice, "All of you, just wait. You will pay for this."

Carter, who had just reached the door, stopped in his tracks.

He turned and looked at me as if I were a pouting child. "What was that? Pay for this?"

He took two steps back toward me, reaching out to touch my cheek. I flinched away from him.

He wasn't angry that his hand was left hanging in the air. He just chuckled and slid it into the pocket of his bespoke suit trousers.

"My dear Sloane, learning to talk tough now, are we? Darling, don't be so dramatic."

"Is the anesthesia still messing with your head?"

The pain in my abdomen was so intense I could barely stand, but I kept my eyes locked on his. "I'm serious."

"Carter Rossi, you will get on your knees and regret what you've done today."

Our eyes met. Seeing that I wasn't joking in the slightest, Carter looked surprised, but he quickly shook his head.

He bent down and leaned close to my ear, his breath warm. "Fine, then you can show me how my little princess is going to make me regret it."

"But for now..." he tapped my forehead lightly. "Okay, fine, I was wrong, alright? I apologize."

"It was a joke. Everyone was just having fun. You are my wife, the future Donna of the Rossi family. You need to be a bigger person. Don't throw a tantrum over something so small, hmm?"

"Rest up and heal. I'll come see you tonight."

With that, he straightened up, even let out a cheerful whistle, and strode away.

He was sure I was just letting off steam and I couldn't leave him.

He was also sure I was, and always would be, his.

I bit my lip hard, tasting blood, until his back completely disappeared down the hallway. The last bit of warmth in my heart turned to ice.

Slowly, I pulled the encrypted burner phone from under my pillow and dialed a secret number.

"It's me."

"Activate the Level One Asset Protection Protocol. Send a car to the hospital. Now."

The voice on the other end was shocked but utterly respectful.

"Principessa? You're finally coming back? Understood. Our best armored team is on its way."

I ended the call. Enduring the searing pain from my torn stitches, I carefully lifted my sleeping son into my arms.

Looking out the window at the darkening sky, I leaned down and pressed a kiss to my baby's forehead.

"Don't be afraid, my love."

"The pain they put us through... I will make those bastards pay for every last second of it."

An hour later, a convoy of black, armored SUVs pulled up silently below the hospital.

Cradling my son, I got into one of the cars and left without a single look back.

...

Meanwhile, at the Rossi family estate.

Carter sat on a leather sofa, swirling a half-empty glass of whiskey. His gaze was fixed on his phone screen, a flicker of irritation in his eyes.

An hour had passed since he left the hospital, and there had been no word from me.

Normally, I would have already sent a novel-length text message or called a hundred times.

Carter pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn't help but recall the icy coldness in my eyes when I told him he would pay.

An unsettling feeling stirred in his gut.

He had a faint premonition that this time, the joke had gone too far.

"Carter, what do you think of this spot?"

Beside him, Sofia's voice broke his train of thought.

She had snuggled up next to him and was directing a few maids as they decorated the entryway.

They were hanging a white wreath of funeral lilies.

In the center, they had pasted a black and white printout of my face twisted in childbirth.

Beneath it, an elegant script spelled out a malicious message:

"Sloane, we are all praying for you."

This was the "welcome home ceremony" Sofia had so carefully prepared.

Looking at the sickening masterpiece on the wall, Carter's frown deepened.

"This is the last joke, Sofia."

He threw back the rest of his whiskey, a note of warning in his voice.

"After today, if you're bored, find your own fun. Sloane is the mother of my son, after all."

Sofia's face stiffened. She was about to start whining when Carter glanced impatiently at the wall clock.

"Why hasn't Sloane messaged back? What time is it?"

The feeling of unease was growing stronger. He grabbed the car keys from the table, about to head back to the hospital to check on things.

Just then, a Soldato stumbled through the door, his face a mask of panic.

"Boss! Bad news!"

"We got a call from the hospital, Mrs. Rossi... she took the baby and left!"