The Lie He Fed Me

Five years. For five years, I’d done everything I could to get pregnant, to give Vincent the heir he wanted.

But he was secretly feeding me birth control, poisoning my body and making it nearly impossible for me to conceive.

All while his ex-girlfriend, a woman he’d supposedly broken up with years ago, was carrying his child.

In that single moment, I knew I was done. I wanted a divorce.

"Elena, what is this?"

My best friend and doctor, Sarah Martinez, held up the little pink pill. Her voice was dead serious, in a way I’d never heard before.

"It's folic acid," I said, putting down my coffee, confused. "Vincent said this brand was the best. You know we've been trying for years."

The color drained from Sarah's face.

"No, Elena. This isn't folic acid. It's Loestrin. It's birth control."

The world stopped. I stared at her, waiting for the punchline that never came.

"That's impossible." My voice trembled. "Vincent gives it to me himself. He said…"

"As your doctor, I have to be honest with you," Sarah said, grabbing my hand. "This is a high-dose pill."

I shot up from my chair. My coffee cup hit the floor and shattered.

"I need you to run my blood. Now."

Sarah fast-tracked the tests and handed me the report an hour later.

"It's a short-acting pill, Elena. This stuff is potent. The side effects are way worse than with the long-term pills."

I stared at the numbers, my vision blurring with tears. Three years. For three whole years, every time Vincent held me and told me to be patient, every time he said we’d have our baby, every time he came with me to a fertility specialist…

It was all a lie.

The only thing that was real was the pressure. The disappointment from the Don. The whispers behind my back, wondering if I was fit to be the future lady of the Romano family. All of that was real.

My phone buzzed—a notification from a group chat.

Sophia Castellano, Vincent’s ex-girlfriend, had posted an ultrasound photo.

Sophia: Ten weeks along. Vincent said he can't wait to meet the baby, and that he's giving him a casino and a club the day he's born.

The chat was full of Vincent's men. They hung on his every word, and by extension, they showered respect on any woman he favored.

James: Congrats! The Don must be thrilled!

Lisa: Amazing! When are you guys going public?

Tony: An heir for the Romano family!

A full ten minutes later, she made a big show of deleting the message. "Oops, sent to the wrong chat. Please pretend you didn't see that."

I knew better. It was a shot aimed directly at me.

I scrolled through the congratulations. Vincent's icon was active, but he never said a word.

The memories came flooding back.

Five years ago, our families had torn us away from the people we loved and forced us into this marriage. The heir to the biggest Italian mob family and the daughter of a banking magnate. On paper, it was a perfect match, a marriage of equals.

No one cared what we wanted.

Back then, Vincent had told me coldly, "Since we can't get out of this, we might as well play our parts."

And we did. We were a great team.

But we weren't actors. I slowly fell for his rare moments of tenderness. I let myself believe that over time, he’d grown to love me too. That this man would eventually be mine.

And yet, to outsiders, he only ever introduced me as "a friend."

And now, his unborn, illegitimate child was being celebrated by everyone.

I couldn't lie to myself anymore.

"Elena, you look terrible," Sarah said, her voice soft with worry.

I wiped my tears, my own voice frighteningly calm. "I need a full workup. I want to know exactly what three years of this poison has done to my body."

Two hours later, Sarah walked into the exam room with a grim look on her face.

"Hormonal imbalance, ovarian damage… Elena, there's a real risk of infertility."

I closed my eyes. This was what despair felt like.

Not because I might never have a child. But because the man I'd loved for five years had been drugging me while getting another woman pregnant.

I went home and sat on the cold floor, my heart a block of ice, but with a fire starting to burn deep inside.