The Price of the Mafia’s Test
My boyfriend is the heir to Sicily's top mafia clan.
To test my loyalty, he never spent a single dime on me during our five years together. Even when we bought condoms, he insisted we split the bill fifty-fifty.
Last week, I was in a car accident. To save the baby in my womb, I urgently needed $1,000 for emergency surgery. I called him from the hospital, begging for the money, but he accused me of lying to extort cash from him and hung up.
Desperate, I begged every friend and contact I knew. By the time I finally scraped the sum together, a unbearable pain tore through my abdomen—my baby's heart had already stopped beating.
After burying my baby, I went back to pack my bags. That was when I accidentally found a birthday gift list he had prepared for his childhood neighbor, Nadia.
A luxury yacht, a star named after her, and endless designer goods.
Right then, his voice drifted in from the next room as he spoke on a phone call with his underbosses.
"Hey Boss, is it true Elena begged you for a grand?"
Dante Moretti scoffed arrogantly. "Yeah, and I stood my ground and refused. Nadia is right. Elena is just a helpless orphan who can't leave me. But to enter my family, she has to pass a strict test. It’s almost over. She’ll realize I did all this for her own good."
So my five years of devotion, and my baby's life, were nothing more than a twisted test for a repulsive mafia title.
Whatever. It didn't matter anymore.
The moment the doctor announced my baby was dead, I had already decided to walk away from him forever.