Chapter 1

Just a moment ago, after nearly bleeding to death, I gave the Rossi family their heir.

But my husband, Carter, the Rossi's underboss, let his confidante, Sofia, film me giving birth just because she said she was bored.

She captured everything: me losing control of my body, my screams, my face twisted in agony.

Afterward, she took screenshots, turned them into memes, and passed them around a private group chat for the family's inner circle.

Through the door of my hospital room, I could hear Sofia's wild laughter.

"Carter, this is the best entertainment all year. You always know just what I want."

"But Sloane's going to throw a fit when she wakes up and sees it."

The anesthesia hadn't worn off yet. My eyelids were heavy, and through the haze, I heard Carter's usual, nonchalant tone.

"She won't get really mad. You know Sloane. She always does what I tell her."

"I'll just have to sweet-talk her a little. Besides, with the heir here now, she wouldn't leave me."

My fingers, hidden beneath the silk sheets, clenched into a fist. My mind flooded with everything I had given up for him over the years.

Carter had probably forgotten who made him the man who runs these streets.

Since you love games so much, I'll play a real one with you.

The day I walk away, you will all regret it.

...

Shrill laughter echoed through the hospital room.

Sofia, swinging the latest smartphone in her hand, pointed at the maliciously zoomed-in photo and bent over with laughter.

"Carter, look at her. She's hideous."

"That twisted expression... doesn't exactly scream future Donna of the Rossi family, does she? Honestly, it's a turn-off."

At her words, Carter raised an eyebrow. He was fiddling with an expensive lighter as he looked at the meme Sofia had just sent to his phone.

"See the lengths I go to for you?"

"To be honest, I didn't want you seeing such a bloody scene. But since you wanted to film it as a memento, I let you have your way."

The casual way he spoke, with such disregard for his wife's dignity, sent Sofia into another fit of laughter.

Lying in the hospital bed, I felt an icy fluid flowing from the IV into my veins, chilling me to the bone.

My chest felt like it was being sawed open with a dull knife, a cold wind howling through the empty space inside, leaving a raw, bitter ache.

Two hours ago, my water broke and I was wheeled into the operating room.

I remembered when I first found out I was pregnant.

We had promised each other that he would hold my hand the entire time, that he would be the first person to hold our child.

Back then, Carter had held my hand and said with so much feeling, "Baby, I'll be with you the whole time. We'll welcome our little angel together."

In our five years of marriage, he had always been the picture of a perfect, doting husband in public.

I had once believed he truly loved me. I'd even felt grateful, thinking my betrayal of my own family had been worth it.

But when I was on the delivery table and the scalpel cut into my skin, I was drenched in a cold sweat from the pain, the veins in my forehead and neck bulging.

He, however, pulled his hand away to answer a FaceTime call from Sofia. He muttered, "Be a good girl, just bear with it," then turned and walked to a corner to take her call.

When the pain was at its peak and I instinctively reached for the corner of his shirt, seeking comfort, he brought another woman into the delivery room instead.

He kissed my forehead and said, "Baby, the birth of our child needs to be recorded perfectly. Sofia's a professional photographer. Leave it to her, she'll get the perfect shots."

He even deliberately stepped out of the camera's frame, so as not to disturb Sofia's "artistic" focus.

They say childbirth shows you a man's true colors. I guess they're right.

"Carter, look at this part..."

Sofia rewound the video on her phone, maliciously turning up the volume.

My eyes fluttered open stiffly.

Through my blurry vision, I saw Carter lean in. His normally charming eyes were now filled with derision.

"Shhh, Sofia, don't be so cruel."

He chided her verbally, but his tone was full of indulgence. "She did just give birth, after all. Her body's a bit slack, like rising dough... but I guess you could call it 'happy weight.'"

As if to prove his point, he gently stroked Sofia's shoulder.

"Her figure used to be great, of course. Now the only thing worth looking at are her hips, and that's just because they got fat."

"Of course, that's nothing compared to your smoking hot figure."

As he finished, the group chat's voice channel erupted with the lewd whistles and jeers of those men.

The sound was a physical pain.

My hand, under the covers, crumpled the bedsheet, my knuckles turning white.

"Carter..."

I spoke, my voice raspy and exhausted, the words like broken shards being forced from my throat.

The two on the sofa froze.

Carter turned his head. Seeing I was awake, he immediately put on a concerned expression and hurried over.

"Sloane? Baby, you're awake?"

He gently brushed the sweat-dampened hair from my face. "You worked so hard, my princess. Are you uncomfortable anywhere? Do you want some water?"

Looking at the tenderness in his eyes and listening to his sweet words, I was silent for a moment before turning my head away to avoid his gaze.

"Aren't you going to explain this?"

Carter's hand, which was pouring water, paused slightly. Then he gave a helpless smile, as if humoring a petulant child.

"Baby, don't be so sensitive." He even tried to reach out and stroke my hair.

I looked past him. Sofia deliberately flashed her phone screen at me.

It was still playing the video of me during labor, my legs spread wide open.

Noticing my gaze, Sofia's smile grew brighter, tinged with provocation.

In a sickly sweet voice, she cooed, "Mrs. Rossi, congratulations."

Then, her finger 'accidentally' pressed the volume key on the side of the phone.

The room was suddenly filled with my own heart-wrenching screams from the delivery room.

My body went rigid. In the small bassinet beside me, the peacefully sleeping infant was startled by the sudden noise and began to wail.

The sound pierced my heart like a thousand tiny needles.

I struggled to sit up, ignoring the tearing pain in my abdomen, and reached out to shield my child. I turned back, my face hardened as I snapped.

"Turn it off! Delete that video! Now!"

Sofia pouted, looking wronged as she turned to Carter, her eyes instantly welling up. "It wasn't on purpose, my hand slipped... Why is Sloane being so mean?"

"Carter, look at her..."

Carter frowned, but he immediately put down the water glass and gently took my hand. "Sloane, baby, don't be so loud. You're scaring Sofia, and the baby."

"A little crying is good for his lungs. Everyone's just joking around, celebrating. You're the future Donna of this family, so try to be a better sport about it, hmm?"

"Don't throw a tantrum over something so small. You're not as pretty when you frown. It makes my heart ache."

His voice was quiet, but every word was an oppressive weight that made it painful to breathe.

My hand, which had been soothing the baby, stopped abruptly.

An image flashed in my mind: his back, resolute, as he turned away from me in the delivery room to answer that call.

I looked him dead in the eye and asked, word by word.

"Carter, when our son was brought out of the delivery room, were you the first one to hold him?"