The Blood on His Hands

I was staring at the black-and-white ultrasound of our baby, waiting to share the joy with the man I had loved for eight years.

But Preston walked into the clinic flashing a brand-new solid gold wedding band.

He told me he had just married a mafia princess to secure his territory.

He demanded I become his secret mistress and keep our unborn child.

If I dared to abort his heir, he would pull his protection and leave my father for dead.

When I refused and tried to leave him, his new wife orchestrated a federal raid on my father's business.

Preston stood by and let it happen, using my family's ruin to force my submission.

Driven to absolute despair, my father jumped from the roof of his building.

Hours later, my mother suffered a massive, fatal heart attack from the shock.

Preston rushed to the emergency room, dropping to his knees and begging for my forgiveness.

He cried that he didn't know his wife ordered the hit, claiming he only wanted to scare my father so I would stay.

I looked at the man who had promised me the world, my bare feet covered in my own blood, my parents lying dead on steel slabs just steps away.

"You have nothing left to threaten me with."

Returning to my empty apartment, I bypassed the mafia's digital firewall and uploaded their darkest secrets to the world.

Chapter 1

Stella POV

I uploaded their darkest secrets to the world at 3:00 AM. By dawn, their empire was ash. But this story doesn't start there. It starts with a gold wedding band and a threat.

I was staring at the black-and-white ultrasound of our baby when the man I had loved for eight years walked into the clinic, flashed a wedding band of new-minted solid gold, and told me that if I aborted his child, my father would be a dead man by midnight.

The small square of glossy paper slipped from my grip; the knuckles of my hand had gone so white with tension that the paper's sharp edge pressed a numb, red crease into the pad of my thumb.

The acrid smell of disinfectant stung my nostrils; the photograph made a dry, thin sound as it hit the floor.

Preston closed the examination room door behind him, and the heavy bolt of the lock shot home, the sound unnaturally loud in the confined space.

He was a Capo for the Syndicate. He commanded hundreds of armed men, controlled the city's underground ports, and had a reputation for leaving his enemies in pieces.

For eight years-since the day we met outside my college library-he had kept his bloody reality separate from our life. I thought he was my protector. I thought I was his sanctuary.

Now, he stood before me in a bespoke charcoal suit, smelling of expensive cologne and a cold, unyielding authority.

I looked at the gold band on his left hand, and a knot of iron formed in my throat.

"I took a blood oath yesterday," Preston said, his voice devoid of all inflection. "I married Serena. The Dons demanded it to merge our territories."

My lungs seemed to forget their function. I backed away until my spine hit the cold metal rim of the examination table.

"You married her," I whispered, the words a cinder in my mouth.

"It is a facade, Stella. A political alliance. Nothing more."

He closed the distance between us in two long strides. He reached for my face, but I slapped his hand away. The sharp crack filled the room.

Preston did not even flinch. His dark eyes locked onto mine, stripping away the gentle boy I thought I knew to reveal the predator that had always been coiled beneath the skin.

"You belong to me," he stated. "You and our unborn child. You are my true family. I will give you a house, a massive allowance, guards-everything you could ever want. Except the legal paper."

"You want me to be your mistress," I breathed. "A goomah."

"I want you to be mine."

I shoved my hands against his solid chest, a wave of nausea rising so sharply I had to brace myself against him.

"We are done, Preston. I am not bringing a child into this world to be a mafia bastard's secret. I am terminating this pregnancy."

Preston's jaw clenched, and a shadow crossed his face. He grabbed my wrist, his grip a manacle of bone and sinew, the pressure promising a bloom of purple on my skin.

"You will not touch my bloodline, Stella. Do you hear me? You dare destroy my heir, and you are dead to me."

"We were dead the second you kissed the Don's ring and married that princess. Go breed with your wife."

He yanked me flush against his chest, and I could feel the angry, erratic pulse of his heart against my own ribs.

"If you walk out that door and abort this baby, I have no reason to protect your father anymore."

It was like swallowing a block of unmelted ice; a chill crept inch by inch up my spine, raising a fine rash of goosebumps.

My father was an Associate. He ran a string of laundromats that washed the Syndicate's dirty cash. He was a small fish in a shark tank, only surviving because Preston shielded him from the Commission's scrutiny.

"You are threatening my family."

"I am securing mine." Preston let go of my wrist and stepped back, adjusting his cuffs with a chilling precision. "Think very carefully about your next move, Stella. Your father's life depends on it."

He turned and walked out of the room without looking back.

I stood frozen for a full minute, my chest feeling as though it were stuffed with a water-logged sponge, each breath a heavy labor that pulled painfully at my ribs.

With a mechanical slowness, I picked up the ultrasound from the floor and looked at the tiny gray blur. This was a life bound to bespoke suits, blood-stained checks, and unending lies.

I walked out into the hallway and approached the front desk. The receptionist looked up with a polite, unseeing smile.

"I need to schedule the surgical procedure," I said, my voice sounding like it belonged to a stranger.

"The doctor requires a mandatory waiting period," she replied, clicking her mouse. "I have an opening in exactly three days. Thursday at 9 AM."

"Book it."My voice didn't even shake. That scared me more than Preston ever had.