“I’m moving to the villa on Lake Michigan.”

I made the announcement at the breakfast table.

Enzo froze, his knife hovering mid-air. His brow furrowed—the first sign of the Don’s displeasure.

“Why? The estate has the best security, the best private doctors.”

“My nerves are shot,” I said, letting my voice tremble just enough. “The noise… Eliana’s parties… I’m worried it’s not good for the baby.”

The word ‘baby’ changed everything.

It was the most important piece of his plan—the scapegoat.

“Fine,” he said, his tone softening. He even put his hand on mine in a fake show of affection. “You’re the Donna. You need absolute quiet. I’ll send a security detail with you.”

He was lying.

I saw the relief in his eyes.

Sending me away meant he could be with Eliana without interruption.

I moved into the lake house.

It was remote, surrounded by a thick forest. The perfect hiding spot. And the perfect battlefield.

I ordered the security team to install military-grade signal jammers around the property.

The excuse: the pregnancy made me sensitive to electromagnetic waves.

The truth: I needed to cover my digital tracks.

They called me ‘The Ghost’ once. A whisper in the digital underworld. My father didn't spend a fortune on my training in Israel for me to become some Don’s trophy wife.

The Ghost wasn't dead. She was just sleeping.

The next few months were a ridiculous one-woman show.

Enzo visited every two weeks, playing the part of the ‘devoted husband.’

But his gifts gave him away.

For me, it was cheap vitamins from a corner store.

For her, I saw on the family’s hidden ledgers, it was millions.

Enough to buy a small arsenal.

Its destination? A secret Swiss account belonging to Eliana, of course.

It was clear. Just like last time.

Eliana was having severe complications with her pregnancy. She was weakening fast.

Without a top medical team and an endless flow of cash to keep her alive, neither she nor that bastard child would make it to term.

Staring at the massive expenses on the screen, I remembered my last life.

I was bleeding out from a gunshot wound, begging him to approve the funds for a life-saving surgery.

What did he say then?

“That’s the family’s strategic fund. It can’t be wasted on a woman who might be a traitor.”

And now, he was throwing it all at the woman carrying the enemy’s bastard.

I finished my last set of pull-ups, a bitter smirk on my face.

Sweat dripped from my chin. Muscle burned. Power flooded my veins.

“Donna, you’ve been looking radiant lately,” said the family’s private doctor, my cousin Dr. Rossi, during a routine check-up.

He was a careful man with sharp eyes.

“Thank you,” I replied coolly.

Dr. Rossi hesitated, then lowered his voice. “I saw the Don... he took Eliana to a specialist in New York. Again. The family is whispering, Marcella. They’re saying she’s the one carrying the real heir, and that you…”

He trailed off, his eyes full of pity.

“Marcella, your father was very good to me. I only trust what I can see. If you ever need my help, I will always be on your side.”

He thought I was the poor, clueless wife.

I rose from the sofa, pulling a silk robe over the hard curve of the fake belly.

“Let them talk, cousin,” I said, picking up a glass of water. “Enzo is the Don. He knows what he’s doing. As long as my child is born safely, I’m content.”

Dr. Rossi looked like he wanted to say more, but he held his tongue.

If he knew what I was really thinking, he would have a heart attack.

I didn’t care about Enzo and Eliana.

In fact, his obsession with her was my shield. It kept his paranoid, controlling eyes off me.

Otherwise, even with the hormone shots and the fake belly I wore every day, he might have seen through the whole charade.

Six months flew by.

As my ‘due date’ approached, Eliana was clearly getting desperate.

That night, the villa door was thrown open.

Enzo burst in, soaked from the rain, his face pale.

He was in a hurry.

My informant had told me Eliana’s water broke an hour ago.

That Morozov bastard was tearing her apart from the inside, and the pain was killing her.

Enzo needed my ‘baby’ to swap with hers. Now.

“Marcella!” Enzo strode into the bedroom, a crystal glass in his hand.

The liquid inside was a strange, deep purple, and it gave off a chemical chill.

“Darling, I know you haven’t been feeling well,” he said, his voice trembling, trying to sound concerned.

“Drink this,” he pushed the glass toward me. “It’s for the baby. To make him strong. A true Falcone.”

I sat on the edge of the bed and watched him.

I knew it wasn’t some vintage wine.

It was a powerful inducing agent, mixed with a sedative that would blur my memory after birth.

It would force violent contractions and leave a woman disoriented afterward—a puppet in his hands.

Last time, I drank it.

I passed out on the delivery table, letting him swap my son.

“It’s for the good of the heir, right?” I asked, taking the glass, my fingers tracing its cold rim.

Enzo swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on the glass. “Yes. For our heir. Drink it. Be a good girl.”

He was terrified.

If I didn't ‘deliver’ tonight, his precious Eliana would be executed for birthing an enemy’s child.

I brought the glass to my lips.

The acrid, chemical smell filled my nose.

For a second, I saw the flicker of cruel anticipation in his eyes.

“Enzo,” I asked, my voice dangerously low. “Are you sure this is for our son?”

Enzo’s pupils contracted.

The hand holding the glass gave a nearly invisible tremor.

He covered it quickly, his fear replaced by an offended rage.

“Marcella, what is that look?” he snarled, using his Don’s authority to mask his guilt. “I am your husband! Your Don! Would I hurt you? Would I hurt my own son?”

A laugh died in my throat. Husband. The man who’d put a dagger with my name on it straight through my heart.

The one who hurt me most was never my enemy. It was you, Enzo.

But I didn’t call him on it.

I knew the drug wouldn’t cause permanent harm to a healthy woman.

It would just trigger violent muscle spasms.

Time to put on a show.

“Of course not,” I said softly. “I’m just nervous.”

I met his gaze over the rim of the glass.

A silent toast to the fool who thought he was in control.

Then I tipped my head back and drained the bitter liquid.

Enzo let out a breath, a savage look of triumph in his eyes. He thought he’d won.

The drug hit faster than I expected.

Five minutes later, a vicious cramp seized my abdomen.

The pain was real. Cold sweat soaked through my silk nightgown.

I collapsed onto the sofa with a pained groan. “Ah… it hurts…”

Just then, the color drained from Enzo’s face.

He took a call, and his expression turned to one of pure panic.

“Dammit! Eliana’s in labor, too!”

He roared in frustration, completely forgetting about me writhing in ‘pain,’ and turned to grab his car keys.

The rain fell in black sheets. Enzo’s armored Cadillac fishtailed out of the driveway.

He’d picked up Eliana. She was in the back, soaked and shivering.

Her screams nearly shattered the bulletproof windows.

“Enzo! Help me! Something is clawing at me from the inside!” She dug her nails deep into his arm. “It hurts! Our baby… we’re going to die!”

“Shh, Eliana, shh!” Enzo yelled, one hand on the wheel as he turned to soothe her, his eyes filled with heartbreak. “I’m here! I swear, I would trade my life for yours and the baby’s!”

And what about me?

Curled in the corner of the backseat, I played my part, pale and pained. He never even looked at me.

I was just cargo.

The car screeched to a halt in front of the family’s private hospital.

A medical team was already waiting.

“Her! Get her first!” Enzo roared, shoving past a nurse who reached for me. “She’s critical!” He swept Eliana into his arms and charged for the emergency entrance.

As Enzo carried her inside, she glanced over his shoulder. Her lips curled into a smirk. Victory.

I was left alone in the downpour, rain mixing with the cold sweat on my face.

A few minutes later, two intern nurses finally rushed out with a wheelchair. “Donna, hang on!”

I was pushed into a delivery room.

The moment the door slammed shut, the grimace of pain fell from my face.

Standing before the operating table was my doctor—my cousin, Dr. Rossi.

He had already sent everyone else away, leaving only his two most trusted nurses.

Our eyes met.

Dr. Rossi looked at my huge silicone belly, his expression a mix of awe and terror.

He gave a silent, firm nod.

Everything was ready.

Time ticked by.

The thunder outside masked all the dirty deeds happening within.

Hours later, in the dead of night.

My hospital room was silent except for the steady beep of the heart monitor.

I lay in bed, eyes closed, breathing evenly, as if I’d passed out from a ‘difficult birth.’

But every muscle in my body was tense, my senses on high alert.

The lock clicked. Someone slipped inside.

The footsteps were light and hesitant, full of guilt, as they approached my bed.

It was Enzo.

He was holding a tightly wrapped baby basket.

Enzo held his breath, tiptoeing to my bedside.

His hands trembled as he prepared to swap this baby for the ‘pure-blooded heir’ that never existed.

He leaned down, the baby’s face just inches from my neck.

And in that moment…

My eyes snapped open. In the dim light, they locked onto his. Cold. Sharp. Pinning him in place.

My voice cut through the silence, cold as the grave.

“Lost something, Enzo?”

My voice made Enzo flinch so hard he almost dropped the bassinet.

A loud wail tore through the quiet room.

A corner of the blanket slipped, revealing a tiny face, fragile from a premature birth.

And a pair of eyes that stood out, even in the dim light… ice-blue eyes.

Morozov eyes.

In that instant, the expression on Enzo’s face shifted.

From the terror of being caught red-handed, to a fleeting flicker of guilt, and finally, settling into cold, hard resolve.

This was his only way out.

He took a sharp step back and slammed the bassinet down at the foot of my bed.

“My God! Marcella!”

Enzo let out a deafening roar as his performance began. “Look what you’ve done! You gave birth to… a child with Morozov eyes!”

Startled by the sudden jolt and the shouting, the baby cried even harder.

I watched it all, cold and still. My gaze went past the crying infant, nailing Enzo to the spot.

“Nice performance,” I said, my voice flat. “But the night is young.”

But my voice was drowned out.

The door burst open. Eliana, who had been waiting in the hall, rushed in.

She was in a hospital gown, pale and weak, but her voice was surprisingly loud.

“What is it? Enzo, what’s happened?”

Eliana ran to the bed. When she saw the ice-blue eyes in the bassinet, she let out a well-rehearsed, dramatic scream.

She covered her mouth, fake tears instantly welling in her eyes.

“Oh, Holy Mother… Sister Marcella…”

She pointed a trembling finger at me, her eyes full of feigned disbelief and heartbreak. “How could you? For power… you betrayed the family and slept with those filthy Morozovs?”

Right on cue, the hallway flooded with people. Doctors, nurses, family Capos, soldiers.

Clearly, they had all been invited to watch the show.

Every eye was fixed on the bassinet, on the pair of eyes that did not belong to the Falcone family.

Shock.

Then, overwhelming fury.

“A Morozov bastard!”

“We’re out there bleeding for this family, and our Donna is sleeping with the enemy!”

“Kill her! Kill the traitor!” The crowd was a sea of rage.

The soldiers’ eyes glinted with murder, low growls rumbling in their chests.

In wartime, there was no greater crime than siding with the Morozovs.

Enzo stood in the center of it all, his back ramrod straight.

He looked at me with a mask of anguish, even squeezing out a few crocodile tears.

“Marcella, I loved you, I trusted you… and you bring this shame upon me.”

He took a deep breath, using his Don’s presence to quiet the chaos. “As the Don of the Falcone family, I will not tolerate this betrayal that taints our bloodline!”

Enzo raised his right hand, pointing his finger at my nose, his voice cold and merciless.

“I hereby strip Marcella of her title! She is no longer Donna! She is no longer one of us!”

Eliana, hiding behind him with a faint smirk on her lips, was still crying out, “Enzo, she must have been confused… can’t you spare her?”

“Traitors don’t deserve to live!” Enzo cut her off righteously, then roared at the doorway, “Enforcers! Seize this traitor and throw her in the dungeons!”

The death sentence was passed.

Everyone expected me to cry, to beg for mercy.

I didn't.

I just sat there calmly, as if the person being condemned was a complete stranger.

Just then, Eliana’s gaze shot to my bed.

To the slight lump under the covers.

She finally realized it. Her perfect drama was missing a key prop.

A heartbroken mother needed to be clutching her ‘stolen’ child to make the accusation stick.

She gasped, her face twisting into a perfect portrait of victimhood.

“My baby!” Eliana shrieked, her voice cracking with a panic so real it was chilling.

She pointed a shaking finger at me, her performance hitting its crescendo as tears streamed down her face. “She has my baby! Enzo! She swapped our children! She was jealous that I gave you a pure-blooded heir!”

The sudden accusation stunned everyone into silence.

“She’s hiding him! Give me back my son!”

Eliana became a madwoman. She lunged for the bed, shoving a nurse aside and clawing at the sheets, her hands reaching out in desperation.

“My baby…” she murmured, her hands closing around the swaddled cloth.

She lifted the bundle.

And froze.