Used by Three Brothers, Forged Into Their Doom

I never imagined the man I married would treat me that way.

Alessandro Moretti—the husband who had spent our marriage acting as though touching me was unbearable—suddenly became relentless the moment darkness filled the room. For five nights in a row, he took me without restraint, without protection, and without the slightest bit of care. By the time it was over, I could hardly stay on my feet. Yet I was foolish enough to believe it meant something. Foolish enough to think he finally wanted to build a family with me. When I saw the positive pregnancy test, I clutched it in my hands like it was the greatest blessing I had ever received.

I went straight to his office, desperate to share the news. For once, I wanted him to look at me with pride.

But before I could even step inside, voices stopped me.

Laughter.

Alessandro. Damian. Roman.

The Moretti triplets—men born into one of the most feared mafia dynasties in the city. Men who inspired terror everywhere they went. Yet behind those doors, they sounded like spoiled boys amusing themselves with someone else’s pain.

And sitting with them was Camilla Costa.

Alessandro’s first love. His lifelong obsession. His mistress. The woman they all revolved around.

She smiled sweetly as she spoke, but every word she said sliced right through me.

“You boys really do indulge me too much,” she purred. “I only asked for one thing—to see which of you would end up getting Rosalie pregnant. But after what you put her through for those five days, do you think she’ll lose her mind when she realizes she has no idea who the father is?”

Alessandro chuckled, completely pleased with himself.

“Lose her mind?” he said. “She should be grateful. You should’ve seen her face—she was glowing, thinking I finally wanted a baby with her.”

Damian laughed next.

“I’ve got to admit, Rosalie is gorgeous,” he said. “Only you, Alessandro, would be insane enough to let your brothers share your wife.”

Roman slammed his hand on the table, grinning.

“Forget that,” he said. “Let’s make it interesting. We bet on who got her pregnant. Whoever loses buys Camilla jewelry and an island at the auction. Minimum bid—three hundred million.”

Camilla watched them with amusement, as if they were performing for her. Then her eyes shifted toward the door, and she smiled.

At me.

Like she knew I was standing there.

Like every part of this had been planned.

She turned back to Alessandro, feigning concern.

“And what happens if Rosalie realizes the baby isn’t yours?”

Alessandro shrugged as though the answer meant nothing.

“Then we tell her she cheated,” he said. “And even if she somehow learns the truth, she won’t dare say a word.”

Then he reached for a stack of photographs and spread them across the table like prizes.

Damian let out a low whistle.

“Damn. You can see her face clearly in these.”

Roman picked one up and laughed.

“She looks pathetic in these. Like some needy little whore.”

Camilla glanced at one with visible disgust before flicking it aside.

The photo slid beneath the door and stopped at my feet.

Everything inside me froze.

My body went numb, as if my soul had been ripped out all at once.

With trembling fingers, I bent down and picked up the picture, hiding it in my sleeve as if I could still protect some shred of dignity. But the tears came anyway, spilling faster than I could stop them.

Alessandro had never wanted me.

Our marriage had only happened because his grandfather demanded it.

For years, Alessandro barely spoke to me, let alone touched me. So when he finally came to my bed that night, I thought something had changed. I knew the wine tasted strange, but I drank it anyway because I wanted to believe him.

I wanted to be loved.

For those five days, I let myself dream.

I let myself believe that maybe, finally, I mattered to him.

I gave in because I wanted his child.

Because I wanted him.

I never realized when one brother replaced another.

I never noticed when the camera flashes went off.

I knew nothing.

I was just something they passed between them for entertainment, because Camilla wanted to satisfy her curiosity.

I turned and ran from that office as if the walls were collapsing behind me.

People stared, but all I could think about were those photographs.

I felt stripped bare.

Humiliated.

Destroyed.

I covered my face and kept running. Every step sent pain through my body, and every breath felt like shards of glass cutting into my lungs. The short distance to the street felt endless.

I had never felt so shattered.

When I got home, I didn’t even take off my shoes.

I went straight to the shredder and fed the photograph into it, pushing it through until it was torn into tiny strips. I stood there watching the pieces disappear, wishing I could throw myself in with them.

Then the front door slammed.

The sound made me flinch so hard it felt like a gunshot.

I turned.

Alessandro stood there calmly, taking off his coat as though nothing had happened.

As though my world had not just fallen apart.

Then he looked at me and asked casually,

“Have you had your period this month?”

I stared at him, barely able to form words.

“What?”

He gave a low laugh and stepped closer, his voice smooth and warm—the same false gentleness he always used when he wanted something.

“Come on,” he said. “It’s been five weeks since those five nights. I know what I’m capable of. Let’s go to the hospital and have you checked.”

He didn’t even wait for my answer.

He grabbed my wrist and led me toward the garage.

I sat beside him in silence, staring blankly ahead as he drove. When I didn’t move, he sighed impatiently and leaned over to fasten my seatbelt himself.

Without thinking, I caught his hand.

“We’re going to see if I’m pregnant?” I whispered. “Alessandro... do you really want this baby?”

For one brief second, his expression softened.

He touched my hair gently, looking every bit like a caring husband instead of the man who had broken me.

“Of course I do,” he said softly. “Imagine it—a little girl with your face, or a boy like me. Maybe even triplets. Wouldn’t that be perfect?”

If I hadn’t overheard him laughing with his brothers earlier, I might have believed him.

That was what hurt the most.

He lied so well.

When we arrived at the hospital, Camilla was already waiting.

And so were Damian and Roman.

The three heirs of the Moretti empire stood there like they owned the entire place, their expressions unreadable except for the amusement hiding in their eyes.

Damian slowly looked me over, head to toe.

Roman smirked.

My stomach twisted.

Alessandro placed a hand on my back.

“They heard the news,” he said. “They came to congratulate you.”

The bloodwork was done quickly.

And the result was exactly what I already knew.

Pregnant.

Alessandro took the report from the nurse and stared at it as though he were calculating numbers in a business deal. His face gave nothing away.

Camilla, however, looked irritated—as if my pregnancy had ruined her plans.

Then Alessandro looked up at the doctor and asked coldly,

“Can we do the paternity test now?”