Chapter 3

Enzo froze. For a second, he forgot what he had been about to say. He clearly had not expected the word "divorce" to come from me first.

"Sophia, say that again?" he said slowly.

I did not give him time to explode. I hung up.

My phone immediately went wild with his messages.

Enzo: [You've really grown bold. You dare bring up divorce yourself? Don't forget how much scheming it took for you to earn the title of Donna.]

Enzo: [That thing in your womb was never a get-out-of-death-free card. When you're screaming in the delivery room and no one comes, don't crawl back to me like a dog.]

Enzo: [And those dark web reports. This was your doing, wasn't it? Delete them. Some games are above your pay grade.]

I did not finish reading the rest. I dragged his number into the blacklist.

Even with the blood-soaked lesson of my previous life burned into my bones, being trampled like this still felt like a knife sawing through my heart.

A few nurses came in to change my IV. They did not notice my expression. They chatted softly among themselves.

"I've never seen a couple as perfectly matched as the ones in the VIP ward downstairs. I heard Mr. Galante and Miss Leone grew up together. It's like something out of a fairy tale."

"That's old news. The latest is that Miss Leone's allergic to UV light, so Mr. Galante had every window in her room replaced with special glass. It cost a fortune."

"When I did rounds last night, Miss Leone said she couldn't sleep, and Mr. Galante held her hand all night. I'm so jealous. I hope I get a love like that someday."

I stared numbly at the needle marks covering the back of my hand. After they left, I finally exhaled, but my chest still felt crushed under a slab of lead.

By evening, the attending physician arrived with the final report. Blunt-force trauma to my abdomen had caused irreparable damage to my uterus. Natural pregnancy would be almost impossible.

Strangely, my first response was not grief. It was relief. At least there would not be a child anymore. At least he would not have to suffer with me.

Late that night, I checked the pulse of public opinion again. The wind had completely shifted.

The armory explosion was now being framed as a self-directed farce, staged to "attract the Don's attention."

Enzo: [My wife, Sophia, acted irrationally due to emotional instability during pregnancy. I sincerely apologize for the trouble caused. I will discipline her more strictly to ensure this never happens again.]

Enzo had personally convened a family meeting. He presented records of my "multiple pregnancy-related incidents" as proof that everything had been a calculated bid for favor.

I knew then that anything I said from this moment on would be dismissed as lies.

Even the soldiers assigned to guard me at the hospital looked at me with open contempt.

Enzo truly was a masterful Don. With just a few sentences, he turned me into a laughingstock across the entire underworld.

I did not bother trying to clear my name.

On the day I was discharged, I sent him a short message.

[Tomorrow morning, 10:00 a.m., courthouse. Bring a lawyer. We're signing the divorce.]

His call came back almost immediately.

His voice dripped with condescension. "Finally done playing dead? I gave you a chance to pull those dark web reports. You didn't take it. Now you've blown it and remembered divorce as a threat?

"If Monica hadn't pleaded for you, you'd already be locked in a psychiatric ward. I know you just want to see me. I'll come. Think carefully about how you're going to apologize if you want my forgiveness."

Enzo did not wait for a response. The line went dead.

I let out a bitter laugh. If earning his forgiveness meant admitting to crimes I never committed, then I would never earn it.

I quietly pulled the full surveillance footage from the day Monica entered the armory and copied everything.

...

The next morning, I went straight to the courthouse with the evidence and the divorce documents.

Enzo was not waiting for me.

Monica was. She leaned lazily against the wall, idly spinning a Donna's seal between her fingers.

When she saw me, a victor's smile bloomed on her lips. "You're finally here? I told you long ago that you were never fit to sit in the Galante family's Donna seat. He might have been briefly dazzled by you, but his attention was always going to return to me."

Her gaze slid to my flat stomach. She lifted her brows in mock surprise. "Oh? The little bastard's gone? How tragic. Burned alive by his father in the last life, and indirectly killed by his father in this one. With a mother like you, he was never meant to grow up."

In that instant, I knew. She had a new life too.

Even so, I raised my hand and slapped her. She shrieked and threw herself backward with theatrical force.

"Monica!"

Enzo rushed past me to catch her. He did not notice his elbow slam into me.

The blow was not hard, but I was already standing at the edge of the steps, drained in both body and mind.

I lost my balance, and the world flipped.

Rough stone edges crashed into me again and again. Blood streamed from my forehead, blurring my vision.

When the tumbling stopped, I lay sprawled on the cold ground. Footsteps hurried toward me.

The next second, Enzo lifted me into his arms.

His eyes locked onto my flat abdomen, and his lips trembled.

"Where's the child?" His voice came out hoarse and broken.

"Sophia, where is our child?" he demanded, panic finally breaking through.