The Night My Womb Warned Me
My husband, Don Cassian, just survived an assassination attempt. He limped in, bleeding, and ordered me to stitch him up.
But when I reached into his blood-soaked suit, my fingers brushed against something soft. Black lace panties. Not mine.
My hand flew to my still-flat stomach. For our child. How could he do this to us?
Ice flooded my veins. “We’re done, Cassian.”
His gaze was heavy, exhausted. He gave a single, sharp nod. “Fine. I’ll have my lawyer draft the papers.”
But then, a frantic little voice—one that wasn't mine—screamed from deep within my womb. [Mom, don’t leave him! Dad didn’t cheat! The family isn’t going to fall. It’s a setup!]
[Oriana Gallo planned all of this! She wants you
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