Chapter 3

Carina's mother's sharp nail almost poked my eye out.

I stared at her coldly, not taking a single step back.

"Look around," I shot back, my voice low and steady. "This is my home. Silas and I have lived here for seven years. If anyone is trying to steal a home, it's the woman downstairs."

CRACK.

Her palm slammed against my cheek.

The old woman had put all her strength into it. My head snapped to the side. The taste of blood filled my mouth, and a terrible ringing filled my left ear.

The hallway fell silent.

Silas strode out from the kitchen.

The first thing he saw was my swollen face and the blood on my lips. His pupils contracted.

For a split second, I thought he would explode, pull his gun, and tear apart the person who dared to hurt me, just like he had a hundred times before.

In Chicago, no one touched Silas's woman.

But he didn't.

Under the heavy, expectant gaze of Carina's family, he forced himself to look away.

He didn't even ask if I was hurt.

In that moment, the last flicker of hope inside me was doused with ice water.

I wiped the blood from my mouth, holding onto the last shred of my pride.

"I have no interest in ruining your so-called..."

"Enough!"

Silas's voice was a whip crack. He strode forward, grabbed my shoulders and yanked me back, desperate to shut me up.

He misjudged his own brutal strength.

I was already weak from the morning sickness. I stumbled backward, losing my balance completely.

THUD.

My back and my stomach slammed hard against the base of a heavy sculpture in the entryway.

"Ah..."

A violent, twisting pain exploded deep in my abdomen. I slid to the floor, cold sweat soaking my back.

Silas's face went white. He instinctively reached out to catch me, his foot already moving.

"Silas!" Carina's brother stepped forward, his eyes locked on him, his tone a clear warning.

Silas froze.

He slowly retracted the hand that was reaching for me. He looked down at me, curled in a ball of pain.

"Have some self-respect, Alessia," he said, his voice like a block of ice. "Stop clinging to me like a crazy woman."

Clinging?

I clutched my stomach, biting my lip so hard I could taste more blood.

Carina's brother—now holding the loyalty of half the Outfit's soldiers—sneered, pointing at my belly. "Since we're laying it all out, Silas, give us a straight answer. Is that bastard in her stomach yours?"

The air turned to stone.

I looked up, my vision blurring, and focused on Silas's face.

His hands, hanging at his sides, clenched into tight fists, veins popping on the back.

The silence stretched for a few seconds. Then, he unclenched his fists.

"No."

He looked Carina's brother straight in the eye, his lips forming two simple words. "That child has nothing to do with me."

I laughed.

Through the pain and the cold sweat, I couldn't stop myself. I laughed until tears streamed down my face and hit the floor.

It was absurd. Utterly absurd.

Just then, hurried footsteps echoed from the stairwell.

"Brother! Mom! What are you doing?"

Carina ran up, dressed in an elegant silk nightgown, her face a mask of anxiety. She was playing the part of the damsel in distress perfectly.

She was about to throw herself into Silas's arms when her mother shrieked.

"Oh my god! Look at her hand!"

The old woman’s sharp eyes were fixed on the ring finger of my right hand. I was wearing a simple, diamond-encrusted band.

It was this morning's "seventh-anniversary consolation prize," delivered hastily by Silas's assistant.

"That's the style Silas just showed Carina yesterday!" the mother screamed, pointing at me. "You're a thief! You not only steal men, you steal my daughter's rings!"

She lunged at me again, her hands reaching for my hair.

Silas stepped between us.

For a moment, I thought he was finally going to end this farce. But instead, he grabbed my right wrist.

I was forced to look up at him.

His jaw was clenched tight. A flicker of agonizing conflict flashed in his eyes.

But it was gone in a second.

The next moment, he closed his fingers around the ring and began ripping it straight off my finger.

"Silas, let go!" I screamed, the pain sharp as the ring scraped my skin raw.

He didn't listen.

"I ordered this for Carina," he said, staring coldly into my eyes as he tore my anniversary gift from my hand. "You don't deserve to wear it."

"Silas, don't. I can't take her things..." Carina murmured from the side, pretending to refuse.

"Take it." Silas's voice was absolute. He turned and grabbed Carina's hand.

I was collapsed on the cold marble floor.

The cramps in my abdomen were coming in waves, stronger and stronger, like something was being torn from my body.

I pressed a hand to my stomach and struggled to sit up.

Through the crowd of hypocrites, I watched the man I had loved for seven years take the ring that was meant for me and slide it securely onto Carina's finger.