They caught my fiancé with my sister on the night of our engagement party. Tangled in a private wine cellar.

My family name was dragged through the mud. We became the laughingstock of the Chicago Outfit.

Then came Don Lorenzo Falcone. He proposed in front of all the Families, saving my honor and forging a more powerful alliance.

For four years, he put me on a pedestal.

But an old injury left him unable to father an heir.

This year, through the family’s private doctor, I finally got pregnant.

After that, his devotion became absolute.

I thought this powerful man was my savior. My only protector.

Until I heard him talking to his right-hand man.

“Boss, Arabella worships you. How could you do it? You had the doctor switch the vials, made Arabella the surrogate for the Moretti heir. Just 'cause Isabella couldn't handle the pain? The kid’s due in two months. What’s the plan?”

He was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was ice.

“When the child is born, it goes to Isabella. It's the only thing that guarantees her future with the Morettis.”

“And Arabella?”

“I’ll tell her the baby didn’t make it.”

“She’ll still be Mrs. Falcone. She’ll have everything she could ever want.”

So that was it.

My great protector. All of it… for another woman.

This tainted bloodline? I don’t want it in me.

And this sham of a marriage? I’m done.

“You’re not worried Arabella will find out?”

“She won’t,” Lorenzo paused before he spoke. “Arabella is a smart woman, but she loves me too much. Love makes you blind. She won't ever question if my words are a lie.”

Laughter echoed from the room. The glass of scotch in my hand slipped, the thick rug muffling the sound of it shattering.

I stumbled back, my legs giving out as if the bones had been ripped from them.

Four years of marriage.

I thought I’d found a protector. A man who would die for me.

It was all a lie.

I touched my small, rounding belly, my mind racing.

Lorenzo’s kiss last month, thrilled we were finally having a child.

Isabella’s strange smile outside the clinic.

His frequent “family meetings.”

The flicker of something in his eyes yesterday as he touched my stomach.

The child I was carrying… it wasn’t even mine.

I collapsed onto the bed. I didn’t have the strength to turn on a light. A deep, uncontrollable cold shook my body. My stomach churned and my head pounded. Tears slid down my face, but I didn’t have the energy to wipe them away.

Footsteps in the hall.

Lorenzo was back.

I scrambled off the bed, plunging the room into darkness, and huddled in the shadows by the fireplace.

“Arabella?”

The door opened. His voice was full of concern. “Why are the lights off?”

Such a good actor.

“Just tired,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

He walked over quickly and knelt beside me. “Are you feeling sick? Should I call the doctor?”

His hand stroked my hair, a touch so gentle it made me want to scream.

“I’m fine.”

“You need to take care of yourself,” he murmured, his voice low and soft. “For our child. For the Falcone heir.”

I closed my eyes, remembering that night four years ago.

My fiancé and Isabella, tangled together in the lounge.

All of Chicago’s underworld laughing at me.

Just when I thought my life was over, Lorenzo appeared.

He proposed to me in public, backing me with the Falcone name.

“I’ll protect you,” he’d said. “No one will ever hurt you again.”

And I believed him.

I was a fool to believe him.

I wasn’t just his wife. I was his asset.

That three-million-dollar Monet? A forgery I spotted.

The Renaissance antiques? I helped him dodge an FBI sting.

The “special cargo” at the docks? My eye for detail saved him from a rival’s ambush.

And now I knew. All that warmth was just part of the act.

“Arabella?” Lorenzo sensed my silence. “What are you thinking about?”

I opened my eyes and looked at him.

The firelight danced across his face. The face I once loved, now a stranger’s mask.

“Nothing,” I forced a smile. “Just… the past.”

“The past?”

“The night you proposed to me.”

His eyes softened instantly. “Best decision I ever made.”

Best decision, was it? Because you married a fool from a weak family who trusts you completely?

He leaned in and kissed my forehead. “I love you, Arabella. Always.”

Always…

If I hadn’t found out the truth, I might have lived in this dream forever.

You want to act? Fine. Two can play at that game.

I blinked slowly, a pale smile on my lips.

“I’m alright, Lorenzo. Just a little tired.”

My voice was soft, sleepy. Flawless.

He let out a breath, relieved. He kissed my forehead again. “Good girl. Get some rest.”

Fine. I'll play your good little wife for three more days.

On the third day, I’ll be the one to bring down the curtain.

The next morning, Lorenzo held my hand tightly as we went for my check-up.

“The baby is perfectly healthy,” the doctor said, handing over the sonogram. “The due date is still the same.”

Lorenzo took the picture.

“Thank you, Doctor,” he said, his voice soft, almost paternal. “Arabella’s been so worried. I’m glad she’s okay.”

“You’re a lucky woman, Mrs. Falcone,” Dr. Reeves smiled. “The Boss is a perfect husband, here for every appointment.”

The perfect husband. I almost laughed out loud.

Lorenzo helped me with my coat, his eyes smiling. “This is the heir the Falcone family has been waiting for. Of course I’m going to take care of you.”

He took my hand as we left the exam room.

Down the hall, a familiar figure stopped me cold.

Isabella.

Her belly was high and round under a loose maternity dress. She was talking to a nurse.

She saw us and her face lit up with a sickeningly sweet smile.

“Arabella! What a coincidence!”

She hurried toward us. I felt Lorenzo tense for a split second before his mask slid back into place.

“Isabella. You’re here for a check-up, too?” My voice was even.

“I am,” she said, her hand resting on her fake bump. “My due date is right around yours.”

It took everything I had not to lose my temper.

Of course it is. Because you’re not pregnant. You’re just waiting for me to give birth to your child.

She reached for me. “Let me touch your belly. They say it’s good luck—”

Her hand, nails painted blood-red, came right for my stomach.

My eyes went cold. I shot my hand out and clamped down on her wrist.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Isabella’s face hardened, her eyes flashing with anger.

Just as she was about to snap, I winced, pressing my other hand to my stomach. “My belly… it hurts…” I said weakly.

The angry words died in her throat, her look of triumph freezing on her face.

Lorenzo immediately pulled me into his arms. “Are you alright? Let’s get you home.”

His voice was drenched in concern, but I saw it clearly. His eyes went right over my shoulder to Isabella. A silent reassurance.

“I think I just stood up too long,” I said, looking down. “I just want to sit in the waiting room for a minute.”

“I’ll go with you—”

“No,” I cut him off. “You and Isabella should talk. I’ll just be a few minutes.”

Lorenzo hesitated, then nodded.

“Alright. Be careful.”

I turned and walked into the waiting room. The second the door closed, I looked through the crack. He was already rushing to Isabella’s side.

Just as I expected. Off to comfort his one true love.

I followed them quietly, hiding around a corner.

They slipped into an empty ward.

“Lorenzo, are you actually falling for her?” Isabella’s voice was sharp, dripping with jealousy.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lorenzo said softly. “Everything is going according to plan.”

“Then why didn’t you back me up out there? She said her stomach hurt, and you looked genuinely worried.”

Lorenzo sighed. “I’m doing all of this for our child. She’s carrying him, after all…” His voice trailed off. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a velvet jewelry box. Inside was an antique sapphire brooch. He pinned it gently to her dress. “You wanted this at the auction. I bought it for you.”

Isabella softened, a smug little smile playing on her lips.

"By the way," she purred, her tone spoiled, "that tip about the O’Connell shipment was very helpful. Matteo and Moretti were very pleased with me. What about the upcoming deal in Venice?”

“It's all set. Two hundred million in art is coming in next week. Arabella's going to check the final manifests for me. It will all be authentic."

A sharp pain twisted in my gut.

My expertise. My judgment. I was just a tool for their profit. A way to build their power, to strengthen their alliance.

And my body? Just a vessel. A surrogate.

I fought back the tears, turned away, and pulled out my phone.

“Dr. Martinez? It’s Arabella.”

“Mrs. Falcone. What can I do for you?”

“The procedure for tomorrow afternoon. Can we confirm the time?”

There was a brief silence on the other end.

“Are you certain you want to go through with this?”

“I’m certain. Three p.m. tomorrow. I’ll be there.”

I had just hung up when a familiar footstep sounded behind me.

“Tomorrow?” Lorenzo’s voice was sharp with suspicion. “Where are you going?”

I turned to face him, a faint smile on my lips. “I have an appointment with a painter. I want a portrait of the three of us before the baby comes. A keepsake.”

The tension in Lorenzo’s eyes eased.

“When?”

“Tomorrow afternoon. You have that family meeting, right? It’s perfect.”

“I can postpone it—”

“Don’t,” I said, playing the part of the considerate wife. “You hate sitting still for portraits. I’ll just bring a photo of you.”

Lorenzo stared at me for a few long seconds, trying to read me.

I smiled and wrapped my arms around him, playing the part of the loving, adoring wife.

He finally relaxed, a smile touching his lips. He stroked my cheek, his voice dripping with condescending affection. “You’re always so understanding. What would I do without you?”

The morning of the surgery, Lorenzo pulled out a small jewelry box before he left.

“For you, my love,” he said softly, his eyes holding their usual warmth.

I opened it. A diamond bracelet.

The free gift to the sapphire brooch he bought Isabella.

My fingers tightened. I looked up and smiled at him. “Thank you. I love it.”

His lips curved up. He leaned in and gave me a deep, possessive kiss. “Bella,” he murmured against my mouth, “always my good girl.”

The second he was gone, the fake smile fell from my face.

Yeah. So good I let you play me for a fool.

Before the clinic, I made one last stop. The Rossi manor, my family’s estate.

I wasn’t even through the door when I heard their voices.

Isabella, whining. “What’s Arabella so proud of? She actually dared to grab my wrist yesterday!”

My mother, soothing her. “Just be patient a little longer. You wanted her fiancé, and we made that happen for you, didn’t we? This is the same. Just wait.”

My father sighed. “You need to stop making trouble. We finally have a Moretti heir on the way. If they find out how this baby was really conceived, it’ll cause another scandal. It would be bad for Lorenzo.”

Lorenzo. He was there. His voice was calm and firm.

“Isabella, don’t worry. I brought the report from yesterday. Everything is normal. We just have to wait for the birth.” He paused. “Father, Mother, you don’t have to worry either. I’m fine. I’d do anything for Isabella.”

My fingertips went numb. The blood in my veins turned to ice.

They all knew.

They planned this. All of them.

From the very beginning, I was just a pawn.

Enough.

I looked down at the diamond bracelet on my wrist.

The free gift.

Just like my place in this marriage. In this family.

I ripped the bracelet from my wrist. Diamonds scattered across the floor like cruel, glittering tears. The skin on my wrist was red and raw, but it was nothing compared to the agony in my heart.

I turned and walked away.

A short while later, a maid knocked on the door with coffee.

Lorenzo opened it. As he reached for the tray, his eyes froze.

On the floor by the door, the broken bracelet lay among a spray of glittering diamonds.

The one he had put on my wrist himself.

His face changed. His breath hitched. He lunged into the hall, looking around wildly, raw panic in his eyes.

He called, frantic.

I let it connect.

His voice was tight with anxiety. “Bella, where are you? Listen to me, I can explain—”

I said nothing.

His voice grew more desperate. “Bella! What the hell is going on? Where are you?!”

Then, a nurse’s cool voice cut through the line, clear as day.

“Mrs. Falcone, the operating room is ready. We just need your signature.”

The other end of the line went dead silent. It sounded like he was choking.

Then, he exploded.

“Surgery? Where are you?! What surgery?!”

It was almost a roar, his voice filled with a terror I’d never heard before.

I stared at my phone. My thumb swiped across the screen.

End Call.

Power Off.