Marco froze for a moment, then let out a scornful laugh. Without even looking, he casually knocked the ring from my hand. "Just like you. A cheap fake that doesn't belong on any stage."

Right after that, he spat in my face. "Take this filth downstairs!"

The basement was cold and damp. I was shoved onto the carpet.

Marco walked in, Mia following behind him. He poured himself a glass of yellow liqueur and sat down on the sofa in the center of the room. His legs crossed, like a judge passing sentence, he looked at me with cold indifference.

Mia stood before me, one hand on her belly, looking down at me from above. "Lucia, you really are a cheap tool. Marco doesn't even want you anymore, and you're still out here lying and trying to fool people."

Her face was filled with the smug pride and contempt of a victor. "The Godfather's child? Why not just say you're pregnant with God's son?"

Marco did nothing to stop her. He seemed to enjoy watching Mia humiliate me.

I pushed myself up from the carpet and looked at him calmly. "Marco, I'll say this again. I'm carrying the Godfather's child. If you stop now, it's not too late. Otherwise, you won't be able to bear the consequences."

My composure angered him again. "Stubborn thing!"

Marco pulled a box from the drawer of the coffee table and threw it hard in front of me. It was a box of pregnancy tests.

"Test." He pointed at me, his eyes vicious. "Right now. Here. In front of Mia and me. Prove it to me."

I picked up one of the tests and started toward the bathroom.

A hand grabbed my arm roughly.

Marco sneered and yanked me back. "The bathroom? What are you planning to do in there? Do it here."

He leaned close to my ear, devoid of warmth. Every word felt like an ice spike. "Take off your pants. In front of us. Spread your legs and piss on it. That's what honesty looks like."

The humiliation was naked and raw, more unbearable than any beating before.

I looked at the pregnancy test on the floor and did not move. My voice was light, but clear.

"No."

The muscles in Marco's face twitched. He slowly stood and pulled a black handgun from the back of his waistband.

Click.

The sound of the safety coming off echoed sharply in the quiet room. The cold muzzle pressed hard against my temple. The sharp smell of gunpowder filled my nose.

"Woman, you're wearing out what little patience I have left." His voice was low and heavy with threat. "Test."

In despair, I closed my eyes. Slowly, I picked up the pregnancy test from the floor. I turned my back to them and unfastened my pants.

Behind me were two cold, scrutinizing stares.

I did what he demanded. Then I lifted the pregnancy test in front of them.

Two clear red lines, like twin blades, stabbing straight into their eyes.

The color drained instantly from Marco's face. He rushed at me and seized my throat, slamming me against the wall.

The suffocating pressure came at once. His eyes were bloodshot, savage.

"I was fighting those Gambino dogs on the West Coast, and you let someone into your bed? Tell me! Whose spawn is it?" he roared, tightening his grip.

Struggling for breath, I forced out a few words. "Rosato… Vincenzo…"

Rosato Vincenzo. The Godfather's name.

He released me. I collapsed to the floor, coughing violently.

"Nothing but lies. I'm out of patience." Marco looked at me, a cruel smile spreading across his face.

He turned coldly to his men. "Go get the doctor."

Then he looked at Mia, a twisted amusement in his tone. "Baby, want to see it with your own eyes?" He paused, a brutal smile curling at the corner of his mouth. "How that spawn gets dug out of her belly?"

A flicker of fear crossed Mia's face, but it was quickly replaced by excitement and malice. "Of course I do, Marco."

Abortion.

The word exploded in my mind like thunder. I understood that pleading and explanations were useless.

Marco had gone mad. He was really going to kill my child.

I desperately scanned the room, searching for any opportunity to fight back.

Inside a decorative cabinet against the wall was a handgun I had seen many times before. Marco had once bragged to me that it was a trophy he took after killing a rival.

"Get up. Go to the third floor." Marco jabbed the muzzle of his gun against my head, his tone mocking. "This place reeks of your piss. I don't like it."

I stood and walked toward the cabinet.

Crash!

The sound of shattering glass rang sharply through the room. I grabbed the cold handgun tightly in my hand.

Without hesitation, I moved swiftly behind Mia and pressed the barrel hard against her body.

"Nobody move!" My voice was tight and hoarse.

Marco looked at me and smiled, slowly raising his gun to aim at me.

Sweat seeped into my palms. "Drop the gun! Or I'll shoot immediately! This woman is carrying your child!"

Marco's gun did not waver. The muzzle remained locked on me, cold mockery seeping from his eyes. "Baby, remember this. I'm Marco Rossi. No one threatens me."

My heart sank. It seemed he did not care about Mia's life at all.

I gave him one final warning. "Marco, you'd better think carefully! If you dare harm the child in my womb, you cannot withstand the Godfather's wrath!"

Marco lifted his wrist and checked the time. "In about twenty minutes, the doctor will be here. Don't rush, baby. We have the whole night."

A vulture-like chill spread through his eyes. "Or we can start with a little foreplay."

The words had barely left his mouth.

Bang!

A gunshot exploded.

The bullet, trailing scorching air, grazed my ear. Blinding pain struck. Warm blood slid down my cheek and dripped onto the expensive carpet beneath my feet. It quickly bloomed into a glaring red stain.

Marco flared his nostrils slightly, an intoxicated expression appearing on his face. "I love the smell of gunpowder."

I stared at the blood spreading across the carpet. My mind went blank.

Suddenly, the door creaked open.

My heart skipped a beat as I turned toward the entrance.

The men who walked in were not the Godfather's. They were Marco's two trusted soldati. The last shred of hope was shattered before my eyes.

They shoved a thin, frail figure into the room.

Pale and weak, it was Matteo, the brother I depended on, who was gravely ill. The moment I saw him, the last trace of composure in my eyes collapsed.

"Matteo!" I cried out his name. The hand holding the gun trembled uncontrollably.

Marco revealed the cruel smile of a victor and walked straight toward me. He pressed the muzzle of his gun against my chest and deliberately brushed it across my breast. The metal was burning hot against my skin, and yet I shivered uncontrollably.

Marco let out a soft whistle and said casually, "I know your body well. I know your family just as well."

Then he moved the gun directly to Matteo's temple. His tone turned icy.

"I suggest you drop the gun."

Matteo looked at me. There was fear in his eyes, but even more resolve. Using every ounce of strength he had, he shouted, "Lucia, shoot! Don't worry about me! Shoot!"

The moment the words fell, Marco flipped the gun and smashed the butt of it hard against Matteo's neck.

Matteo let out a muffled groan and collapsed limply to the floor, unconscious.

As my world was completely shattered, a scream of despair tore from my throat.

The gun in my hand clattered to the ground.

Marco picked it up and waved it lightly in front of me. He leaned close to my ear, his words cold as wind from hell.

"Let me tell you a secret. This gun wasn't loaded. Only third-rate hunters get bitten by their own hounds."

Before I could react, he grabbed my long hair and dragged me violently up the stairs from the basement to the third floor. He threw me onto a cold bed.

With a signal from him, his men immediately brought out prepared leather restraints and secured my wrists and ankles tightly to the four corners of the bed.

I was bound in a humiliating spread-eagle position, a filthy cloth stuffed into my mouth.

Marco pulled over a chair and sat beside the bed. He lit a cigar and looked at me with feigned pity. "Tramp, you should never have betrayed me. The humiliation you gave me can only be washed away with blood."

Time passed second by second. Every second was torture.

When the cigar was nearly burned out, he slowly stood and gestured.

"Let the doctor in."

The door opened, and the doctor who had been waiting outside entered with a medical case in hand. His face was expressionless. He treated my bound body on the bed as if it were nothing.

Marco tilted his head back and exhaled the last ring of smoke slowly. He looked down at me. The final trace of pity vanished from his face.

"Begin. Get that devil out of her. I want her to watch. That's the price of betrayal."

The doctor removed instruments from the case and walked toward me.

In overwhelming terror, my body convulsed uncontrollably.

At that moment, a violent crashing sound came from downstairs. Then chaotic footsteps and the angry shouts of men.

Before Marco could react, the bedroom door was kicked open from the outside.