Chapter 4

Hearing Camilla use the name I'd chosen for my son was a new kind of torture.

I remembered snuggling in Marcello's arms and suggesting, "Marcello, if our baby is a boy, let's call him Leo. Brave like a lion, just like you. What do you think?"

Marcello had smiled tenderly. "I love it. And if it's a girl, we'll call her Bella. Beautiful, like you."

But now, all I could do was watch as Camilla held my husband's arm, raised my child, and used the nickname I had created.

Every word was a blade, twisting deeper than any physical pain.

Just then, a nanny came in, holding a crying baby.

Camilla smiled, took the child, and soothed him in her arms.

Once the baby quieted down, she suddenly looked at me. "Phoebe, you haven't met my son yet, have you? Right, we gave birth on the same day, but your baby died. Why don't you hold him? Get a feel for it."

My head gave an instinctive nod before I shook it violently.

I didn't dare.

I was afraid if I held him once, I'd want to hold him forever. I'd want to snatch him back...

But I knew Marcello wouldn't allow it. It would only bring more trouble for my family and friends.

Sure enough, Marcello frowned, displeased. "Camilla, what are you doing? Phoebe is still injured, she can't hold a baby!"

Camilla ignored him, smiling as she pushed the baby into my arms.

"What's there to be afraid of? I just want Phoebe to feel..."

In the midst of the pushing, Camilla suddenly let go. The baby fell to the floor with a piercing scream.

"Leo!"

Camilla cried as she scooped up the child, then slapped me across the face. "Phoebe, if you have a problem, take it out on me! Why would you hurt my child?!"

I crumpled to the floor as the stitches from my difficult birth ripped open, sending a fresh wave of agony through me.

I looked up in a panic. "I didn't! Camilla, I didn't mean to hurt him, you're the one who let go..."

"Enough!"

Marcello's furious roar cut me off, his eyes like shards of ice.

"Camilla is his mother! She loves him more than anyone! If you didn't do it, who did? I never thought you could be so vicious, to actually harm a child!"

I stared at Marcello in disbelief.

Me? Vicious?

Marcello knew better than anyone that I was the baby's real mother. I'd die before I let anyone harm a single hair on his head.

The pain was unbearable.

I explained, pale and desperate, "I didn't... I really didn't..."

But Marcello didn't love me, so why would he ever believe me?

His face was a dark storm as he ordered the nanny to take Camilla and the baby for a check-up.

Then he turned to me, his gaze heavy.

"Phoebe, I understand you're angry that I gave our son to Camilla. I owe you for that, and I'll make it up to you. But you shouldn't have taken it out on the baby. It seems you still haven't learned your lesson."

Marcello slammed the door and left.

Blood from my reopened wound soaked through my pants, but he didn't even spare me a glance.

I struggled to my feet and pressed the call button. A nurse finally came in to re-dress my wound.

Marcello never appeared again during my hospital stay. I had no one to look after me.

I had to get my own food, my own medicine, go to the bathroom by myself... Once, I fell asleep during an IV drip and the blood backed up halfway into the bag, and there was no one to call a nurse for me.

Just when I thought being abandoned in the hospital was Marcello's punishment, my brother showed up, frantic.

"Phoebe! It's bad!"

"Dad's being investigated by the IRS and the police! They're accusing him of money laundering and financial fraud. They're going to seize all our assets, and he could... he could get twenty years!"

My mind went blank. I felt like I'd been plunged into an icy abyss.

If these charges stuck, my father was facing prison.

My father had been an honest businessman his whole life. If he was branded a financial criminal, his life would be ruined... and my mother, my brother, they would live in shame forever.

Ignoring my injuries, I ripped the IV out of my arm and rushed back to Marcello's villa.

At home, my father, his hair white overnight, sat on the sofa, looking haggard.

My heart tightened. "Dad..."

He shot up, as helpless as a child. "Phoebe, what's going on? Marcello sent word that you were in the hospital and told your mother and me to come see you. But on the way, the IRS raided the company, saying there were problems with our taxes!"

"They wouldn't listen to us. Your mother's health is already poor, she fainted from the stress... Marcello was just here. I was going to beg him for help, but he insisted on waiting for you. Did you two have another fight?"

I froze. "Marcello was here?"

A bone-deep chill shot up my spine.

Could it be... Marcello did all this on purpose?

I couldn't contain my rage. I stormed into Marcello's study.

"You did this? You framed my father, just because Camilla said I dropped her baby?!"

To my surprise, Camilla was there too.

She gave me a triumphant smirk.

"That's right! I asked Marcello to get even for me! You dare hurt my family, so I'll let you have a taste of your own medicine!"

Marcello's face was hidden in shadow. He took a drag from his cigar, his voice cold.

"You refuse to admit your jealousy and hatred for Camilla. If I don't teach you a lesson, how will you ever learn? Phoebe, don't forget who I am. If I want to, I can make sure your father's sentence is much, much longer."