Pregnant With the Don’s Heirs, I Disappeared

I hid behind the study curtains, heart racing with a fragile, trembling joy. In my hands: an ultrasound photo—two heartbeats—and a no-limit black card. Alessandro had given it to me last night, his lips on my neck, calling me his Donna, his queen.

Tonight, I was going to tell him about the twins.

"The Petrov family needs to see my good faith," his voice drifted in, smooth as velvet. "Vittoria arrives Thursday. I’ll announce the engagement then."

My blood froze.

"What about Elena?" someone asked. "She’s been with you three years. She manages the books, dug that slug out of your side herself. Is this fair to her?"

"Elena?" He leaned back in the leather chair, cigar smoke curling around his jaw. "She’s like a trained hound, Salvatore. After the Rossi family got wiped out, I pulled her from the gutter, gave her a gun and a bed. Have you ever seen a hound leave its master? I could kick her, and she would lick my boot and ask for another."

My nails sank into my palms, crumpling the ultrasound.

"Aren’t you afraid she’ll leave?" Marco, his Capo, asked.

Alessandro paused. Then he said: "She would die for me without question. How could she ever leave?"

Those words struck my chest like two 9mm rounds.

I didn't wait. I ran through the cemetery, past the tombs of dead Dons, and hurled that card into the Hudson. I vanished into the night with his heirs in my womb and three years of lies in my throat.

"I'm sorry, my babies," I whispered to my belly. "Mommy was a fool."

But I wouldn't be a fool anymore.

...

"What was that?"

"The curtain!"

I grabbed the ultrasound and scrambled through the window. Behind me, Alessandro’s roar echoed, but I heard nothing.

I stood at the edge of the Throat, the black water churning below. I took one step forward, then another. The cold seeped through my dress, promising oblivion.

Then the kick came. Two tiny pulses against my womb, demanding I live.

I collapsed onto the rocks, sobbing. "Mommy was a fool," I choked out. "My poor babies."

I stumbled back to the mansion. Every window blazed with light—he was home.

I wiped my face and pushed through the oak doors. The scent of Cuban cigars hit me like a blow. This place had been my sanctuary. Here, I had dug two slugs out of his shoulder with a hunting knife while he screamed. Here, I had killed for him, pressing a pillow over a traitor's face. Now it was just stone and lies.

"Elena."

Alessandro descended the staircase, loosening his tie, a tumbler in his hand. His blue eyes scanned my tear-streaked face.

"Where the hell have you been?" He set the glass down. "I had the men searching."

"I needed air."

He reached for my face. I flinched. His fingers paused, then gripped my chin—firmer. Less lover, more owner.

"You're pale," he said. "It's my birthday. I hoped you'd prepare something special. But you haven't even started dinner."

I looked at him—the man I had bled for. There was no guilt in his eyes. Only cold expectation.

"How was the party?" I asked.

"Strange," he said. "One of the Soldati found something floating near the docks. This."

He reached into his breast pocket and withdrew a card.

My heart stopped.

A matte black card. No limit. No name on the front—only the embossed twin-snake crest.

The one I had thrown into the Hudson.

It lay in his palm, edges scratched, surface dulled by river silt—but unmistakable.

"Can you imagine?" he said. "Someone dumped the black card into the water. A line of credit that can move millions overnight… tossed away like a cigarette butt."

My fingers trembled. I forced them still.

"Maybe whoever owned it realized it wasn’t worth much."

"Worthless?" He laughed softly.

"This card pays fifty men without a question. Opens any door. Buys silence, loyalty—blood if needed. Only an idiot would throw that away."

He slid it back into his pocket. My card.

"Vittoria arrives tonight," he said. "The welcome feast is tomorrow. You're coming."

"I will," I said.

His smile bloomed—dazzling, blind. "There's my good girl."

He leaned to kiss me. I turned my head. His lips grazed my cheek. He froze.

"I'm tired," I whispered.

Surprise flickered across his face. He wasn't accustomed to rejection. His hand tightened on my waist.

"Alright," he said slowly. "Go to bed. But don't think I'm letting you sulk."

He pulled me back against his chest, his arms steel bands. His chin rested on my shoulder.

"You need to learn, Elena," he murmured, hand splaying over my stomach, covering his children. "Everyone is working for this alliance. Vittoria is trying to help you. And you're throwing a tantrum like a child."

He pressed a kiss to my hair. "Don't disappoint me tomorrow."

His breathing evened out, content, while I lay rigid, my jaw locked. I stared at the dark window.

Outside, the Hudson flowed on. And in my pocket, the ultrasound crinkled, two heartbeats ticking like a bomb against my hip.