Your Regret Doesn’t Bring Us Back, Don

I am the wife of Anthony Caster, don of the mafia family in New York.

When I was nine months pregnant, he brought a woman named Evelyn Graves into the manor, claiming she’d saved his life. That was the day my nightmare began.

She put something in my food. Next thing I knew, I was doubled over in pain. And she had the nerve to blame it on me—said I was being reckless with what I ate.

She lost her footing and fell down the stairs, but she told everyone I was the one who shoved her.

Every day, she’d cry in front of Anthony about how saving him had left her wounded and unable to bear children, how seeing a pregnant woman broke her heart.

But the moment she turned to me, the tears were gone, replaced by a cold smile. “As long as I’m here,” she whispered, “your babies will never be born.”

Anthony was convinced I was jealous of her. He locked me away in the abandoned attic of the manor and said, “Reflect on your actions and stop bullying Evelyn.”

On the first day they shut me in, the contractions began.

I screamed, I begged, I banged on the door.

The butler heard me and went to inform Anthony.

He said, “Amelia, your due date is three days away. Stop putting on an act. Three days in a snowstorm and you came out fine. This? You can handle this.”

On the second day, my water broke.

I screamed at the top of my lungs, my fingernails digging into the cracks of the wall, blood spilling all over the floor.

The butler went to Anthony again.

Evelyn said, “Anthony, she’s making all that noise because she wants you to feel sorry for her and let her out. If you give in now, she’ll only grow more reckless later.”

He believed her.

On the third day, I stopped screaming.

Anthony thought I had finally learned my lesson, unaware that I had already died from the difficult labor.

When he finally opened that door, all he would find was my rotting, putrid body.

When the searing pain finally left my body, I knew I was dead.

Now my soul floated in the attic, looking down at my own body.

The floor was covered in dried, black blood, spreading from under my body to the door, seeping through the gap beneath it, and trickling down the stairs.

The walls were gouged with black claw marks from my fingernails—deep grooves, some showing through to the plaster beneath.

In my agony before death, I had clawed and scratched at those walls like a madwoman. When the pain drove me crazy, I even smashed my head against them just to stay awake. I was covered in blood then. Now it had blackened and turned foul.

I was curled in the corner, my body twisted grotesquely, my eyes still wide open, fixed on the door that was locked from the outside.

The same door I had banged on, screamed at, and begged at for three days straight.

Today was the fourth day.

My due date.

That was the day Anthony promised to come and let me out.

But he never showed up.

My soul drifted out of the attic and down to the manor’s dining room.

Anthony and Evelyn were eating.

Evelyn sat across from him, a triumphant smile on her lips.

“Anthony, aren’t you going to pick up Amelia today?”

He hummed in acknowledgment, not looking up from his food.

Evelyn’s expression shifted to one of sadness. “After she comes out, I’ll move out.”

Anthony looked up at her.

Her eyes glistened with tears.

“I know Amelia doesn’t want me here. As soon as she’s out, I’ll leave right away so I won’t be a bother to you two…”

“No need,” Anthony said. “You were injured saving me and can’t have children because of it. I’ll take care of you.”

Evelyn’s eyes lit up, but she quickly resumed her pitiful look. “But Amelia will be angry… She said last time I was an outsider who didn’t belong here…”

Anthony’s spoon paused in his hand. “She said that?”

Evelyn nodded, tears streaming down her face. “She said… she said I was staying here because I wanted to seduce you… and she said… she was carrying your babies, that she was the mistress of this house, and I should know my place and get out on my own…”

Anthony set down his spoon, his face darkening.

Evelyn looked up at him with tearful eyes.

“Anthony, I never meant to seduce you… I… I’m staying here to recover…” she cried pitifully.

Anthony spoke gently. “I know. Stop crying. Don’t worry. Even if she does get angry, I’ll protect you. I won’t let anyone bully you.”

My soul floated nearby, watching the scene, feeling nothing but revulsion.

If I were still alive, I would have lunged at Evelyn and torn her face to shreds!

I had never spoken a harsh word to her. I had always treated her like an honored guest!

And this was how she repaid me.

When was this supposed to have happened?

Once, she walked into my room and said, “There is only one Mrs. Caster, and that’s me.”

I replied, “You should know your place.”

Then she ran crying to Anthony, claiming I had scolded her.

Another time, she deliberately spilled soup on herself, then screamed that I had pushed her. When Anthony rushed in, she cowered in his arms, trembling like a startled fawn.

Anthony flew into a rage. “You know how upset she gets when she sees a pregnant woman! How could you do this to her! You vicious woman! I’m locking you in the attic. You can sit there and reflect on your behavior.”

I screamed in desperation, “Anthony! I’m about to give birth! You can’t lock me up!”

Evelyn sobbed in Anthony’s arms, “Amelia! You still have three days until your due date. Are you using this as an excuse to stay out of the attic so you can keep torturing me?”

In the end, Anthony ignored my pleas and threw me into the attic.

No matter how much I pleaded, he wouldn’t open the door.

He didn’t believe a word I said.

But every time Evelyn lied to him, he believed every word.