Leaving My Bastard Don Husband, Now He Regrets It

Seven years of marriage, and I was finally pregnant.

I stood there clutching the test results, my fingertips white from gripping too hard.

I was born into the Morretti Family, one of the oldest and most powerful crime dynasties in New York.

As the pampered daughter of the Don, I had been promised to Dorian since childhood, a political match, two families bound by one bloodline of power. That was the deal, and I had told myself it was love.

Seven years. No matter how cold he was, no matter how he brushed me off like I was staff, I held on. I told myself that once we had a child, once something real existed between us, this ruthless man would finally soften toward me.

I walked to his study with my heart pounding and was about to push the door open when I heard his voice, speaking with a softness he had never once directed at me.

"Don't be scared, Elena. That baby you're carrying is the only thing I care about in this world."

The call was on speaker. On the other end was a woman's voice, breathy and trembling with just enough hurt to seem fragile.

That was Elena, his obsession, the woman from the slums who had owned his heart long before I ever entered the picture.

"But Dorian..." Elena's voice wavered. "If I have this baby, won't Jessica be furious? She's the Morretti princess. She's the Donna. What if she has children of her own someday? What happens to ours?"

I held my breath.

"That won't happen." He let out a short, cold laugh. "Relax, Elena. Once the baby's born, I'll bring him into the family. He'll be the only heir I acknowledge. As for Jessica..."

His tone shifted, turning contemptuous and bored.

"She'll never have children. For the past seven years, I've had someone put the maximum dose of birth control into the warm milk she drinks every night before bed. She's a political arrangement. She was never meant to carry my bloodline."

The truth hit me like a gunshot.

Seven years. That was why I'd endured every cruel joke from the family elders about not producing an heir, because my own husband had been quietly, deliberately poisoning my chances. He knew. He watched me fall apart wanting a child, and he kept doing it.

A cold so deep it felt physical moved through my body from my feet to the crown of my head. My hand moved without thinking to my stomach.

Two months ago, late at night, there had been a problem with the family's underground weapons deal and Dorian had come home blackout drunk. He broke through my door like something wild and out of control, and the whole time, the name on his lips wasn't mine. That night, he forgot about the milk.

And now I was pregnant, carrying a child conceived while he was too drunk to remember who I was. The baby I'd prayed for, ached for, considered a gift from God was conceived because he'd used me as a stand-in for her.

"You're so good to me, Dorian..." Elena's voice on the phone cracked into a watery laugh. "I'll give you the strongest heir you've ever seen."

"Just rest and take care of yourself. Whatever you need, tell the capos. Every resource this family has is yours." His voice was indulgent and warm, like nothing I'd ever been given.

I bit down on my lip hard enough to taste blood and didn't make a sound.

I had spent seven years believing patience would be enough, that if I were generous enough, forgiving enough, strong enough, eventually some piece of him would turn toward me. I was wrong. Completely, utterly wrong.

I could survive a loveless marriage. But I would not bring my child into this nest of manipulation and cold calculation. I would not let my baby grow up with a father who would sooner see us both gone.

My grip tightened on my dress over my stomach. The despair burned away behind my eyes and left something cold and clear in its place.

This time, I was really done.