The Heir They Denied

If that’s how it was going to be, then I would forge my ultimate revenge with my own two hands, using my own life and the life of the baby he refused to claim.

The scent of antiseptic filled the hospital corridor.

I sat on a waiting room chair in the obstetrics wing, the screen of my phone glowing with a message from Matteo:

[Family business. Can't make it. We'll talk later.]

It was always some excuse.

I remember the day I found out I was pregnant. I told Matteo, my voice trembling with excitement.

But his reaction was strangely cold. There was no joy, only a deep frown. When I asked when we would finally have our wedding, he deflected, his panic obvious.

And for the last three months, every single one of my prenatal appointments had been interrupted by one of his "emergencies."

"Ms. Prescott?" a nurse called my name.

I stood and walked into the examination room alone. The cold transducer slid across my belly, and a tiny shadow flickered on the screen. Our child.

"The baby is very healthy," the doctor said with a smile.

I walked out of the hospital clutching the report, this little life the only company I had.

I decided to get some air in the private garden. The hospital was a Gallo family property, elegant and quiet. A perfect place for an expectant mother to rest.

But I never expected to see Matteo on one knee on the lawn, kissing the back of a woman's hand.

The woman had a cascade of blonde curls and wore a white designer dress that did little to hide her own swollen belly.

It was Stella Falcone.

The woman he was always meant to marry for the alliance.

"You have to be strong, little one. For your mother's sake."

An old man nodded in approval. "A fine son-in-law. The Falcone family is fortunate."

Matteo rose, his hand gently supporting Stella's waist. "It's my duty to take care of Stella and the child."

Stella lowered her head demurely, leaning into his embrace.

Suddenly, someone called my name. A nurse was rushing out with a receipt I'd left behind.

Matteo's head snapped in my direction.

His eyes flashed with panic and unease. He clearly hadn't expected to run into me here, at this time.

After all, he was supposed to be in a family meeting, not standing right in front of me.

How ironic.

His "family business" was indeed at the hospital. The agenda was playing the doting fiancé for his other woman.

I walked slowly toward them, my gaze fixed on Stella's slightly protruding stomach, my face a placid mask.

"How far along are you?"

Matteo's lips tightened. He averted his eyes, unable to answer.

Stella answered, a triumphant, mocking smile playing on her lips.

"Almost two months. He is our heir!"

I clutched the ultrasound report in my hand, my nails digging into my palm.

Her baby was nearly the same age as mine.

My heart felt as if a dagger had been twisted in it. I could no longer hold back my tears.

They streamed down my cheeks.

I looked up, meeting Matteo's eyes, my own lips bitten raw and colorless.

My voice was a raw whisper, torn from my throat.

"Aren't you going to give me an explanation?"

Seeing my tears, Matteo panicked, a flicker of pain in his eyes.

He strode forward and grabbed my arm. "Ava, this isn't what it looks like," he whispered, his voice low. "It's a front. A necessary evil."

"I shouldn't have hidden this from you, but you have to understand the child she's carrying isn't mine."

"A front?" I laughed, a cold, bitter sound. "Then what am I? What about my child? Are we just props in your little play, too?"

"No," Matteo said, glancing at the people around us. "Just let me explain..."

Stella's voice cut in, sharp and clear. "But Matteo, you promised my father you would be my child's legal father."

Her voice grew louder, drawing more attention.

"Our wedding invitations have already been sent! And on the birth certificate, the father's name will be yours!"

The air froze.

I stared at Matteo, waiting for him to deny it.

But he only clenched his fists, silent.