He stumbled back, voice shaking. “Jesus—who are you? What did you do to piss off Mr. D’Amico this badly?”

Even now, even bleeding, I was being judged.

“I’m…” My lips trembled. “I’m his wife.”

I stretched my hand toward him. Blood smeared the floor.

The diamond ring barely sparkled anymore. Dull. Like me.

“This… this is the ring he gave me,” I whispered. “Custom. One of a kind.”

That finally got to him.

His face went pale. “Wait here.”

He helped me sit up, then hesitated, pulling out his phone.

“Boss,” he said carefully. “I was checking inventory. Your wife is locked in the heater room. She’s bleeding badly. Should I call an ambulance?”

There was a pause.

Then Giovanni’s voice, distant and cold.

“Bleeding? From what? Did she hurt Laura’s lizard? Figures. That thing’s Laura’s baby.”

My chest tightened.

Then his voice went even sharper, colder. “Don’t take her anywhere. She’s fine. She’s acting. I’ll deal with her later.”

Click.

The call ended.

The man stared at his phone for a long second, then looked at me.

I knew that look.

Fear of the D’Amicos always won.

He turned and walked past me.

I closed my eyes. That was it.

But minutes later, I heard footsteps again.

He came back, jaw tight, muttering to himself.

“You’re pregnant,” he said, voice low, almost a whisper. “My wife is too. If I left you here… I’d never forgive myself.”

He didn’t wait for permission.

He lifted me up, wrapped his jacket around me, and called for an ambulance with hands that shook as much as mine.

When the sirens finally came, I exhaled for the first time in what felt like years.

I was alive.

Barely.

But when they rushed me into the hospital, reality slammed me again. No delivery room. No equipment. No bed.

The D’Amico family had already reserved everything. Even at the hospital… I still wasn’t allowed to give birth.

Giovanni had already sealed the city shut. Worried something might go wrong with Bianca’s delivery, he pulled strings through the syndicate and quietly reserved every usable machine in the hospital. Every operating room. Every emergency unit. Nothing left for anyone else.

One look at me was enough for the doctor to decide. Staying meant death.

She grabbed my phone, scrolled, and stopped at the contact marked ‘My Hubby’. She dialed while nurses rushed around me.

“This is a doctor,” she said fast, voice urgent. “Florence D’Ameco is in critical condition. There’s a high risk of fatal complications. You need to come now.”

Giovanni’s voice came through sharp and irritated.

“So you really crawled out,” he said. “And now you’re bribing doctors to act for you?”

He didn’t pause.

“I’m not coming back. I know your body. You’re fine. Stay where you are and stop embarrassing me.”

The call ended.

The doctor didn’t say anything. She just looked at me, then turned away and told her colleague to prepare a transfer. There was nothing else she could do.

When I realized where they were taking me, I almost laughed.

Bianca’s hospital.

The doctor tried one last time to reason with Giovanni. I heard him through the wall, his voice flat and final.

“I don’t care who else needs it. Bianca comes first. I won’t risk her life for anyone.”

My strength drained out of me and I slid down against the wall, numb.

That was when I saw him.

Giovanni’s secretary stood at the end of the hall, staring at me like he’d seen a ghost. He hesitated, then turned and hurried away.

“Sir,” he said quietly, “there’s a pregnant woman outside. She’s covered in blood. It looks like it might be Mrs. D’Amico.”

Giovanni didn’t even lift his head.

“That’s impossible,” he replied. “In her condition, she couldn’t get here.”

The secretary lowered his voice.

“Maybe you should check. If it really is her—”

Giovanni’s eyes hardened.

“If it were her, she’d already be screaming about money. She’d never let herself end up like that.”

The doctor kept pushing. Giovanni threatened her career.

She came back out a moment later and apologized to me, eyes full of regret. There was truly nothing she could do.

But I was no longer locked in the heater room. As long as I could breathe, I wasn’t giving up.

I held my belly with one hand and borrowed the doctor’s phone with the other. My fingers shook as I dialed a number I had sworn never to use again.

“Dad,” I whispered. “Please help me. I won’t disobey you anymore.”

He didn’t ask why. He didn’t question my voice.

He only asked where I was.

I broke down the moment I heard him.

Fifteen minutes later, the sound of helicopter blades cut through the air. A private chopper landed on the roof, doors opening before it fully stopped. Doctors moved with precision, calm and fast.

They lifted me inside.

The helicopter was a flying medical unit, fully equipped, lights bright and steady.

For the first time since marrying into the D’Amico family, I felt like I might survive.

The doctors worked fast, moving like they knew every second mattered, scalpels cutting across my swollen belly, pain stabbing through me even with the anesthesia.

Time blurred.

Finally, someone exhaled. “She’s out.”

I waited for a cry, any sound from my baby, but there was nothing.

My chest tightened like someone had stabbed me. I could barely whisper through tears, “Is… is my baby okay?”

One of the doctors pressed me gently back against the bed. “It’s not looking good. We need to get her to the island for proper treatment.”

I nodded, too numb to argue, my body trembling from everything I’d endured.

As the helicopter lifted off, I reached for my father’s aide. “What about… Giovanni? He’ll come looking, right?”

He squeezed my hand, calm. “Don’t worry. Your father’s got it all covered.”

I wished I could believe him.

I saw him then, Giovanni, standing outside the operating room like a shadow over everything, eyes scanning like a hawk. He barely blinked when the doors opened, first words sharp and mocking.

“And Bianca… she’s okay, right? Can’t have anything happen to my little golden girl.”

He stepped inside, scooped her up, and held her close, smiling like a proud father. “Look at you, sweet pea. Pretty, huh? Just like your mama. Too bad someone else’s kid can’t compete.”

He paused, then laughed low, cruel. “Wonder who Florence’s kid will even look like? Probably like her, huh? Poor thing, stuck with a mother who can’t even survive a heater.”

After rocking the baby to sleep, he straightened and started leaving, already thinking ahead. Tomorrow, he’d go back to fetch me.

Then he saw his secretary waiting, white-knuckled and stiff. He tossed him the car keys without a word.

“Go,” he said. “Bring her in. The wife and the kid. No excuses.”

The secretary didn’t move. Fear made him rooted to the spot.

Giovanni’s patience snapped. “What, too scared to move? You’re not gonna piss me off, are you?”

Finally, the secretary stammered, voice trembling like a scared kid. “Mr… Mrs. D’Amico… and the baby… they’re… gone.”

Giovanni laughed, low and dark, like he was mocking a rival boss. “Gone? Really? You sound like you’re telling me a bad joke. Guess even my wife can’t get her act together, huh?”

But his secretary cried, “Boss, here's the report. They really died.”