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Chapter 2

Penulis: Naomi Harlow
Dressed in a charcoal-gray bespoke suit, Lucas strode in, the residual menace of the negotiation table still etched between his brows.

The moment he took in the rundown room and Luna crying herself hoarse, his expression darkened.

"Why would my Consigliere, Marcus King, choose a dump like this to house them?" Lucas's voice was razor-sharp. "If anything happens to the child, he'll be buried with her."

His gaze swept the room before finally landing on me. There seemed to be concern in his eyes. The instant our gazes met, days of pent-up grievance surged, as if I'd finally found a place to let it spill.

I raised my hand.

I wanted to ask why he disappeared during my delivery.

I was desperate to ask about his relationship with Serena Vale.

I longed to hear him deny that I was nothing more than a substitute.

Yet before anything could begin, Serena ended it.

"Lucas..." Serena looped her arm through his, her eyes reddening at the corners. "Miss Lang isn't doing well at all. She seems emotionally unstable after childbirth. She lost control and hurt the little Principessa."

She gestured meaningfully. "Look, even her legs are bruised."

Their intimacy, carried out as if no one else existed, sliced through my last shred of hope.

Lucas's gaze snapped toward me, a storm erupting in his eyes.

"What's this?" His voice was ice-cold, rage barely restrained. "So the moment something displeases you, you become this vicious?"

I shook my head frantically, crying as I pointed at Serena, my hands repeating the strangling motion over and over. My lips trembled violently, but all that came out were broken, rasping breaths.

"Drop the victim act."

I knew how much he loved Luna. Hurting our daughter crossed his absolute line.

The pity he once held for me curdled into disgust. "Luna is crying like this, but as her mother, you feel nothing?"

Serena spoke gently from the side, fanning the flames. "She's probably hungry. Why not let Miss Lang breastfeed her? Once she's full, she'll calm down."

Lucas nodded without hesitation. "Then hurry up and feed her."

My entire body went rigid.

The room was filled with his Soldati. Several assistants stood by the door.

Here?

Right here?

Was he really going to strip me of all dignity like this?

I looked at Lucas in despair, my eyes filled with pleading as I signed: [Can you ask them to leave first?]

"What are you stalling for? Can't you hear Luna crying herself breathless?!" He understood sign language, but he simply chose cruelty.

"Miss Lang, Luna comes first," Serena said with feigned kindness. "Look how pitiful she is. At a time like this, why care about pride? As a mother, you should learn to sacrifice."

My daughter's cries grew sharper, like a chainsaw tearing back and forth through my nerves. With no other choice, I gave in and reached for the buttons of my hospital gown.

At that moment, Marcus pushed the door open, his eyes colliding with mine.

My hands froze. The shame of breastfeeding in front of strangers made it impossible to continue.

I looked back at Lucas again, silently begging him to leave me at least this shred of dignity.

He lost patience. Turning to the Soldati behind him, he issued a cold command, "Strip her. Feed the child. Now."

The towering Soldati obeyed, stepping forward and pinning my shoulders like I was a prisoner.

How did it come to this? What did I do wrong to deserve this humiliation?

I struggled desperately, but I couldn't break free.

[Don't force me! Please!]

I kicked in panic, my eyes screaming what my voice could not, my throat already hoarse.

Lucas stood by and watched my despair unfold, but made no move to stop it.

"Since you gave birth, then do your job as a breeding mare. Why are you unwilling even to feed her?"

This was the second time I heard that word today. He said it himself; I could no longer deny it.

While I stood frozen in shock, the Soldati roughly tore open my collar. Buttons snapped loose. My pale chest was exposed, laid bare under the gaze of countless men.

In that moment, I did not feel human. Instead, I felt like livestock placed on an altar, waiting to be slaughtered.
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