After I Died, the Mafia King Went Mad

A year after we remarried, I went to the hospital alone after days of nausea and exhaustion.

“Congratulations,” the doctor said with a smile. “You’re eight weeks pregnant. The baby looks healthy, development is right on track, and everything seems stable. Just get plenty of rest and don’t overdo it.”

I walked out of the exam room clutching the scan report, I was already imagining the look on his face when I told him.

Then I looked up—and stopped cold.

At the far end of the corridor, Luca Moretti was holding a little boy no older than one. His expression was soft, patient, almost tender. Beside him stood Sofia Romano in a loose beige dress, her features delicate, her voice low and gentle.

The same woman who had once torn through my marriage under the excuse of one drunken mistake.

For a second, my mind went completely blank.

Before I could stop myself, I followed them.

They disappeared into a pediatric exam room just down the hall. I stayed just outside, hidden from view, and listened.

“The child is doing much better,” the doctor said. “Nothing serious. He’s just been running a fever on and off with the weather change, so keep a close eye on him.”

Then there was a pause.

When the doctor spoke again, his tone had changed.

“Mr. Moretti, aren’t you worried your wife might find out? You told me before she can’t stand lies.”

Silence filled the room for two long seconds.

Then Luca answered, calm and unhurried.

“She won’t find out.”

He said it so casually, like he was discussing a business arrangement instead of my life.

“Elena trusts me. And she loves me. The last time things got ugly, she forgave me in the end, didn’t she?”

The doctor sounded uneasy. “Still… secrets don’t stay buried forever. What if she does find out one day? Aren’t you afraid she’ll leave?”

For a moment, Luca said nothing. I could picture him looking down at the child in his arms.

Then he gave a faint, almost amused laugh.

“Then I’ll apologize. I’ll explain. Elena has a soft heart. If I admit I was wrong, she’ll come back.”

He paused, then added in that same steady voice,

“And the kid is already a year old. It’s been too long. As long as everyone here keeps their mouth shut, she’ll never know.”

Every word sliced into me, slow and deliberate.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t lose me.

It was that he never believed he would.

Luca wasn’t holding on to me because I was irreplaceable. He was holding on because he was certain that no matter what he did, I would still be there when he turned around.

My throat burned, thick and tight, but no tears came.

Only then did I understand.

This hospital visit was never a gift.

It was the moment the last of my illusions was ripped away.

I didn’t storm into the room. I didn’t confront him. I didn’t give Luca another chance to perform love.

I just turned around and walked away.

Out of the hospital.

Once I was outside, I took out my phone and called the number I had once heard whispered about in circles where power, money, and disappearance could all be bought.

The line connected almost immediately.

“I want to commission a death.”

The woman on the other end didn’t sound surprised. “Go on.”

“I need to disappear within three days,” I said. “Completely. No trail. No body. No way for anyone to find me. I want the world to believe I’m dead.”

I stopped, my hand drifting to my still-flat stomach.

“And my baby comes first. Whatever you arrange, my child stays safe.”

There was only the briefest pause.

“Three million dollars,” she said. “And it can be done.”

I didn’t hesitate.

A divorce hadn’t been enough to free me from a man like Luca Moretti.

So this time, I would use death.

And I would not give him another chance to beg, explain, or drag me back into his world.

This time, I was taking my child and vanishing for good.