Miscarriage Was Murder: My Husband's Secret Plot

The fever hit that night.

Maybe my body was too weak after the miscarriage, or maybe the weight of what I'd learned had finally crushed something inside me. Either way, I burned through the night in a haze, slipping in and out of consciousness while blood filled every dream.

In one of them, a small child stood at the top of a staircase, drenched in red, watching me. I reached for him, but he drifted further away.

A cool touch pressed against my forehead. I forced my eyes open and found someone half-kneeling beside the bed, wiping my face with a damp towel.

In the dim light, Domenico Ferrante was still wearing the same black shirt from yesterday, his sleeves rolled to the elbows. He was a man who never had a hair out of place, but right now, he looked wrecked. His eyes were bloodshot, and dark stubble shadowed his jaw.

Fever-reducing syringes and ice packs were scattered across the nightstand. A basin of water sat haphazardly by the foot of the bed, half of it soaked into his pant leg.

"Nadia?"

His voice was raw, like he hadn't slept all night.

"You're finally awake."

I stared at him. This was the same man who, just yesterday, had calmly discussed how to cover up the truth about what had killed my child. And yet here he was, acting like he was genuinely terrified of losing me.

Domenico reached over and pressed a hand to my forehead. Once he was satisfied the fever had gone down, he lifted my hand and kissed the back of it.

"The doctor said the sudden fever was from the emotional stress on top of how weak you already were."

He paused. "Nadia, don't scare me like that again."

His voice was low, impossibly gentle. Those dark eyes that could make grown men flinch now looked nothing but exhausted and shaken.

For a split second, I wavered.

What if I was wrong? What if everything I'd overheard yesterday had been a misunderstanding? Maybe his Underboss hadn't meant what I thought he meant. Maybe Domenico really did love me.

Why else would the Don of one of the most powerful families in the city spend an entire night at his wife's bedside, playing nurse?

When I didn't speak, Domenico leaned down and carefully pulled me into his arms.

"Losing the baby hurts me too. But what scares me more is losing you."

His breath grazed my ear, low enough to pass for tenderness. "You're my wife. You're the person I want to spend the rest of my life with."

My fingers trembled. Something inside my chest tore open, slow and deep.

I almost believed him. Then the phone on the nightstand rang.

Domenico's expression shifted. He let go of me quickly, grabbed the phone, and disappeared into the bathroom.

But not before I saw the name on the screen—Valentina Monti, Domenico's childhood friend.

He'd always told me Valentina was like a sister to him, that he'd promised his parents to look after her, always. I'd believed him. So even when she pulled him away from me time and time again, I told myself it was nothing more than a little girl competing for her big brother's attention.

But now I finally understood how blind I'd been.

The way Valentina looked at Domenico had never been sisterly. It was possessive, the way a woman looked at a man she believed belonged to her. She disliked me because we were rivals for the same man's love.

Domenico returned quickly. He looked uneasy as he walked toward me.

"Nadia, I need to talk to you about something." He sat on the edge of the bed and took my hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. His voice stayed soft and measured, as if it were just a matter of duty.

"Valentina's been… unstable lately. Last month's attack rattled her badly, and she's pregnant now. It's not safe for her out there. Her husband's been negotiating an alliance with the Silvestri family, and I gave my word I'd keep an eye on her in the meantime."

He hesitated, then his tone turned even gentler. "So I was thinking we could let her stay at the estate for a while to recover. The east wing has always been empty. She won't bother you. Once things settle down, I'll arrange for her to leave."

He finished by pressing a light kiss to my forehead. "Nadia, you've always been the understanding one, right?"

I looked up at him and held his gaze for a long time. A bitter smile pulled at the corner of my mouth.

"Alright."

In that moment, every last trace of doubt vanished. All that remained was the certainty that I was going to leave him.