CHAPTER 5

The night of the gala was supposed to be a show of power. Julian wanted the world to see that he had tamed the son of his enemy. Elian felt like a doll in his hands, dressed in a black suit that fit perfectly but felt like lead.

"Don't look so sad, Elian," Julian whispered as they walked into the crowded ballroom. His hand was a heavy weight on the small of Elian’s back. "People will think I’m mistreating you."

"Aren't you?" Elian whispered back.

Julian only smirked. He led Elian through the sea of guests, stopping to shake hands with dangerous men. Valentina was there, too, wearing a dress of bright red silk. She kept catching Julian’s eye, smiling at him as if Elian wasn't even in the room.

Suddenly, the lights went out.

The room fell into total darkness. Then came the sound that everyone in this world feared: the rhythmic pop-pop-pop of gunfire and the screaming of guests.

"Julian!" Elian cried out, reaching into the dark.

"Stay down!" Julian shouted, but his voice sounded far away.

Before Elian could move, a thick, rough hand grabbed him from behind. A cloth smelling of chemicals was pressed against his face. Elian fought, his hands scratching at the arm of his captor, but the world was spinning. The last thing he saw was the flash of gunfire in the dark before his eyes closed.

Six days passed in a blur of pain and cold.

Elian was kept in a basement that smelled of damp earth and rot. His hands were tied, and his body was sore from being moved from one car to another. The men who took him weren't kind. They were remnants of his father’s old crew, desperate men who thought Elian was their ticket to a new life.

"Your husband hasn't paid yet," a man with a scarred face hissed at him on the fifth day. He kicked Elian’s side, making him groan. "Maybe the great Julian Moretti doesn't want his Rossi toy back after all."

Elian didn't answer. He couldn't. He was too weak. He felt a constant, gnawing sickness in his stomach, and a strange, heavy pressure in his lower belly that wouldn't go away. He felt like his body was failing him.

On the seventh day, the world exploded.

The sound of a door being kicked in followed by the roar of an automatic weapon woke Elian from his half-sleep. Shadows moved in the dark, fast and deadly.

"Clear!" someone shouted.

A man knelt in front of Elian. The light from a flashlight was blinding. "We found him. He's alive."

Julian walked into the room. He looked like a demon, his face splattered with blood that wasn't his. He looked down at Elian, who was huddled on the floor, shivering and covered in dirt. There was no hug. There was no "I'm sorry."

"Get him up," Julian said to his men, his voice like dry bone. "He’s a mess."

Elian was taken straight to the Moretti infirmary. He lay on a white bed, the lights too bright for his tired eyes. He felt a deep, aching pain in his core, and he was terrified that he was dying.

Julian stood by the window, his back to Elian. The silence in the room was heavy.

The door opened, and a doctor walked in. He was holding a clipboard, and his face was very pale. He looked at Julian, then at Elian, then back at Julian.

"Don Moretti," the doctor started, his voice shaking. "I have the results of the full blood panel we ran when Mr. Rossi was admitted."

Julian didn't turn around. "Is he sick? Does he have an infection from that hole?"

"No, sir," the doctor said. "He... he is pregnant."

Julian froze. He slowly turned around, his eyes narrowing into thin slits of ice. "What did you say?"

"He's nearly two months pregnant, sir," the doctor whispered. "The stress of the kidnapping and the lack of food... he’s at high risk of losing the child. We need to start him on fluids and hormones immediately."

Elian felt like the world had stopped turning. Pregnant? He looked at his stomach, his hands trembling. The fluttering... the sickness... it all made sense. He was carrying a life. He was carrying Julian’s child.

But the look on Julian’s face wasn't one of joy. It was pure, unadulterated fury.

Julian walked over to the bed, looming over Elian. He looked at Elian’s stomach with a look of deep disgust.

"Six days," Julian hissed, his voice trembling with rage. "You were with those men for six days."

"Julian, no..." Elian whispered, tears starting to fall. "I was never touched. I swear. This baby... it’s yours. It has to be yours. We were together every night for a month!"

"Do you think I'm a fool?" Julian roared, grabbing the metal rail of the bed. "You're Rossi! You probably planned this whole thing! You went to your father’s men to get knocked up so you could have a leash on me! You think I’m going to believe a man can just get pregnant with my child?"

"Julian, please! Listen to me!"

"I am not a father to a bastard!" Julian spat. "I am a straight man. I don't breed with men. You cheated. You let those animals touch you, and now you want to hang their mistake around my neck?"

Julian turned to the doctor. "I want a DNA test. Now."

"Sir, at this stage, it might be difficult—"

"I don't care! Find a way! Prove to this liar that I know exactly what he is!"

Julian looked back at Elian, who was sobbing into his hands. "You're a stain, Elian. And that thing inside you is a stain. Don't you dare think this baby makes you safe. It just gives me another reason to hate you."

Julian stormed out of the room, slamming the door so hard the glass rattled.

Elian lay in the bed, clutching his stomach. He felt the tiny, fragile pulse of the baby inside him. "I've got you," he whispered through his tears. "I've got you, even if he doesn't want us."

He didn't know that this was only the beginning. He didn't know that over the next few months, Julian would force him to take twenty one DNA tests, and every single one would tell a lie that Julian was all too happy to believe.