The Night He Chose Her, I Lost Our Baby

Without warning, he threw the box at me. It struck my forehead hard, sending a sharp pain through my head. I groaned softly, instinctively raising my hand to cover the spot as tears welled up in my eyes. Dante seemed startled for a moment. "I didn't mean to do that," he said quickly. "Let me see." I pulled away from him, avoiding his touch. "I'm fine," I muttered. Ignoring my words, he reached out again, prying my hand away to inspect the injury. When he saw the swelling forming, his face darkened. "This doesn't look fine," he said. "Stay here. I'll get some ice." Before he could move, his phone rang. The screen lit up with a contact name that felt like a slap in itself: "Little Trouble." The name was filled with affection, intimate and unmistakable. The kind of name a man only gives a woman he lets close enough to be careless with him. In this world, that kind of closeness was its own currency. "Dante!" Viviana's voice came through immediately. The moment he heard her voice, especially the faint sound of her whimpering, his entire demeanor changed. He tensed, concern evident in his expression. The Don of the Moretti Family, a man who made rooms go quiet when he entered them, shifted his weight toward a phone like a soldier answering a summons. "Viv, don't cry," he said quickly. "What's wrong?" "I have a stomachache," she sniffled softly. "I want to go to the clinic, but I got turned around near the waterfront. I don't even know where I am…" Dante frowned deeply. "Why didn't you call me when you decided to go? We agreed I'd have a car sent for you." Her voice became even softer, more fragile. "I messed up again today and made Serena upset. I didn't want to bother you both…" His tone immediately turned serious. "Viv, you're carrying a child. Nothing is more important than that." "Send me your location. I'm coming to get you." "No, Dante," she protested weakly. "I can get there on my own. And tonight is Serena's… you should stay with her…" Dante chuckled lightly, almost amused. "Silly girl. One more night with her won't magically produce an heir." "You're what matters right now. Send me your location." He hung up and looked at me with visible impatience. "Did you hear that? Viv is worried about you, and all you do is act paranoid." "I'm going to take her to the clinic," he added. "I'll grab some ice packs for you on the way back." He picked up the keys to the Maserati, ready to leave without another thought. The soldier posted outside the hallway shifted at the sound of movement, waiting for a signal. "Dante, wait," I called out. He turned around sharply, irritation clear on his face. "Serena, can you stop this?" "This is about two lives, hers and the baby's," he said. "Don't turn it into another jealous tantrum." I didn't bother arguing anymore. Instead, I walked quietly to the coat closet and took out the jacket he had worn a few days ago. From the inside pocket, I pulled out a card and held it out to him. "Viviana's clinic card. You'll need it." Viviana never handled her own visits to the discreet family clinic. Dante always kept her card with him, right beside the estate receipts and the fold of emergency cash he carried for the Family's private physician. For a moment, he looked surprised. Then he reached out and took it from me. "Thanks." He hesitated, as if he wanted to say something more. But I didn't give him the chance. "Drive safe," I said calmly. I reached up and adjusted his collar, just like I always did whenever he left the house. The gesture was familiar, almost instinctive. My fingers brushed the lapel of his overcoat the way they had a thousand times before, straightening what didn't need straightening. But deep down, I knew this would be the last time. For a brief moment, his expression softened, as if something inside him had shifted. He grabbed my hand and pulled me closer into his arms. "I'll be back soon," he said quietly. "Wait for me." I didn't wait. After sending a brief message to Lydia Carbone to begin the separation process, I put my phone aside and went to bed earlier than usual. My fingers drifted once to the fine chain at my throat, then fell away. I didn't feel like thinking anymore, didn't want to dwell on anything that had already been decided.

In the middle of the night, the vibration of my phone pulled me out of sleep. The room was dark and quiet, and when I glanced at the time, it was already 1 a.m. As expected, the other side of the bed was still empty, cold and untouched. I reached for my phone and unlocked it. Several new messages had come in. They were all from Viviana. [Dante is just so hot!] [I wanna eat him up while he's sleeping!] There was also a photo attached. In the picture, Dante was asleep, his head resting on a soft pink cartoon pillow. His hair was slightly messy, his expression relaxed, his lips parted just enough in a way that used to make my heart skip a beat without me even realizing it. For a moment, I simply stared at the image, my emotions strangely distant. When the "typing…" indicator appeared at the top of the chat, Viviana reacted quickly. She deleted the messages almost immediately, as if trying to erase the evidence. Then she sent a playful emoji of a cat begging for forgiveness. [Oops! I meant to send those to my bestie, but accidentally sent them to you.] [I was just joking around, don't be mad! Dante's already asleep anyway.] I knew exactly what she expected. She probably thought I would lose control, that I would call her in anger like I used to, demanding explanations, making a scene. But this time, I didn't feel the urge to react at all. Without replying, I simply blocked her. Then I put my phone down and went back to sleep as if nothing had happened. Whether she was pretending or being serious didn't matter anymore. It had nothing to do with me now. The next morning, they arrived at the counting house together. Viviana, still playing her usual role of being fragile and delicate, suddenly stumbled as she walked, her steps unsteady as if she might fall at any moment. Her face turned pale, her expression filled with exaggerated fear. Without hesitation, Dante rushed forward, scooping her up in his arms as if she weighed nothing. He carried her straight into his office, his concern obvious and unhidden. Viviana blushed slightly, wrapping her arms around his neck as she leaned into him. But as she passed by me, she turned her head just enough to shoot me a smug, triumphant smile. One of the other associates leaned closer to me, lowering her voice as she whispered, "Can you believe her?" "She doesn't even know how to run a basic ledger, let alone handle real Family business. How has she been the Don's personal courier for half a year?" She paused before adding carefully, "Do you think… he's actually into her?" I was busy replying to messages from Lydia Carbone, my attention mostly elsewhere. Without thinking too much, I simply nodded and said, "Maybe." The word had barely left my lips when I heard Dante's voice behind me. "Serena, come with me." I turned around and found him standing right there, his expression cold and distant, his gaze unreadable. No one in the counting house knew that we were married. Dante had always insisted on keeping the union invisible inside the operation, separating blood from business in the eyes of anyone beneath capo rank. So to everyone else, I was just another trusted keeper of the books, nothing more. At work, he always kept his distance from me, as if we were complete strangers. I remembered once having a high fever, so bad that I could barely stand. I had gone to him, hoping he would at least take me to the clinic. But he had brushed me off coldly, worried about how it would look to the others. He told me to go home and rest instead.

Yet when Viviana merely complained about a slight stomachache, he would cancel sit-downs without hesitation and personally drive her to the discreet clinic on Mulberry. I followed him into his office at the back of the social club, watching silently as he gently told Viviana to go rest in the private room behind the bar. His voice softened in a way I had rarely heard directed at me. Once the door closed and we were alone, he walked over and grabbed my hand. His voice dropped, quieter now. "Still mad?" I pulled my hand away, my tone calm but distant. "I told you, I'm not mad." He frowned slightly, placing both hands on my shoulders. His gaze locked onto mine, searching for something. "Don't lie to me." "I didn't come home last night, and you didn't even call or text," he said. "And you expect me to believe you're not upset?" I looked at him, confused for a moment. "Viviana was with you, wasn't she?" I replied evenly. "She's your courier. She'd take care of you." His expression darkened immediately, his grip tightening on my shoulders. The pressure made me wince, and I instinctively tried to pull away. In the struggle, he pushed me onto the leather couch against the wall. As I steadied myself, my hand brushed against something soft. I frowned slightly, reaching down to grab it. When I pulled it out, I saw a pink lace bra tangled between the cushions. The moment Dante saw it, the anger on his face vanished, replaced by something else. "That's…" he started, clearly trying to explain. But I didn't care enough to listen. I tossed the bra back onto the couch casually, my voice flat. "If there's nothing else, I'll be going, Mr. Moretti." After hours, I had a sit-down scheduled with an outside associate. As I stepped out of the club onto the narrow sidewalk, a familiar black sedan pulled up in front of me. The window rolled down, revealing Dante behind the wheel. "Get in," he said. "We'll drop Viv off first, then head to that seafood place by the waterfront." Viviana leaned out slightly from the passenger seat, smiling brightly. "Sorry, Serena! I'm hitching a ride again!" I was busy trying to flag down a cab, my attention elsewhere. Without even looking at her, I replied calmly, "You two go ahead. I'm allergic to seafood." Dante's face darkened instantly. He knew that wasn't true. In fact, that place had always been one of my favorites. He opened his mouth, clearly about to argue or question me. But I didn't give him the chance. I walked past his car without hesitation and got into a cab waiting across the street, leaving them behind without a second glance. What I didn't expect was for Dante and Viviana to follow me all the way to the restaurant. I had only come here for business, planning to meet my associate and keep everything strictly professional. But before Matteo Ricci even arrived, the two of them walked in together and casually sat down across from me, as if this were their table too. For a moment, I just stared at them, unable to hide my disbelief. Then I took a slow breath and cut straight to the point. "I'm meeting Mr. Ricci from the gem trade," I said calmly, making it clear that they didn't belong here. Dante simply raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair as if amused. "Did Mr. Ricci say he didn't want to see me?" he asked lightly, his tone carrying a hint of challenge. I fell silent. There was no point arguing. No matter what, he was still the Don, and in front of an outside associate, I couldn't afford to create a scene. When Matteo Ricci finally arrived, the atmosphere shifted slightly. During the meal, he casually instructed his man to open a bottle of expensive wine, the rich aroma filling the air as it was poured into glasses.

I frowned slightly, my mind drifting back to the doctor's warning when I had gone to the clinic to schedule the procedure. "You've already had one miscarriage from the car accident," the doctor had said seriously, his voice low behind the closed door of the discreet family clinic where no names were recorded. "Your uterus is severely damaged. The fact that you're pregnant again is already a miracle." "If you lose this baby, you may never have another chance." Those words lingered in my mind, heavy and impossible to ignore. I pressed my lips together, about to politely refuse the wine. Before I could speak, Viviana suddenly smiled sweetly and chimed in, her voice light and cheerful. "I've heard Serena can really hold her liquor. I've always wanted to see it myself." She tilted her head slightly, her expression innocent and harmless, as if she had no idea what she was implying. Her lower lip caught a faint sheen of moisture a fraction before the words arrived. My expression turned cold instantly. I looked straight at her and asked, "Who told you that?" For a split second, her smile froze. She glanced nervously at Dante, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. "Did I say something wrong again?" she asked softly, her tone trembling. Dante reached out and gently smoothed the hair from her face, his movements filled with a tenderness I had never received. Then he turned to me, his gaze icy. "Serena, it's just a glass of wine," he said coldly. "Don't make such a big deal out of it." A chill spread through me as I met his indifferent eyes. The soldier standing two steps behind Dante's chair didn't move, didn't breathe visibly, but I could feel the room tightening like a wire drawn taut. After a brief pause, I forced a faint smile and spoke clearly, each word deliberate. "Mr. Moretti, I can't drink," I said. "Because I'm pregnant." The moment the words left my mouth, the entire table fell silent. The private dining room of the supper club, with its velvet curtains and low amber light, seemed to contract around us. Even the faint clinking of glasses seemed to disappear. Matteo Ricci set down his fork without a sound. The soldier by the door shifted his weight half an inch. Viviana was the first to recover. The brief flash of something unreadable in her eyes vanished as she quickly stood up, lifting her glass with a bright smile. "Congratulations, Serena!" she said warmly. But just as she brought the glass to her lips, Dante immediately reached out and stopped her. "Vivi, you're pregnant too. You shouldn't be drinking," he said, his tone firm with concern. For once, Viviana didn't listen. She shook her head slightly, her expression turning earnest. "No, I have to," she insisted. "Ever since I joined the Family, I've upset Serena so many times. This drink is my apology," she continued, her voice growing more emotional with each word. Before anyone could stop her, she tilted her head back and drained the glass in one go. Almost instantly, her face flushed red. She began coughing violently, her body trembling as tears welled up in her eyes. Dante's expression twisted with anger and frustration. He shot up from his seat, pointing straight at me. His signet ring was perfectly still against his thumb. "Is this what you wanted?" he demanded. "Only someone as naive as Vivi would fall for your tricks!" "If anything happens to our baby because of you," he continued harshly, "I will never forgive you!" I didn't even bother looking at him. My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. "Do whatever you want." Turning to Matteo, I muttered a brief apology for the disruption before standing up and heading toward the door. My fingers found the fine chain at my throat and held there, just for a moment, as I turned my back on the table. Behind me, Dante's voice rang out, filled with fury. "Serena, I've had enough of you!" "You have a problem with everything Vivi does," he shouted. "If you can't accept her, then maybe we should just dissolve this marriage!" His words made me pause for a split second. But the surprise faded just as quickly as it came. We had been bound for five years, and in all that time, he had never once acknowledged our union in front of anyone outside the Family walls. Not at sit-downs, not at tribute dinners, not before a single soul who mattered. Now, just to defend Viviana, he was finally willing to admit it. I turned back to look at him, at that familiar face that now looked distorted with anger. The Don of the Moretti Family, a man whose silence could empty a room, was shouting across a supper club like he had nothing left to lose. Then I nodded calmly.

"Alright," I said. "Let's get divorced." Without waiting for his reaction, I turned and walked out. After leaving the hotel, I immediately called my divorce lawyer. As I spoke, trying to finalize the next steps, a sudden, blinding light flashed in front of me. A car was speeding straight toward me, completely out of control. Panic surged through me instantly. My body froze, my legs giving out as I stumbled backward in shock. Just when I thought I was about to be hit, the driver slammed on the brakes, swerved sharply, and sped off in another direction. I collapsed onto the ground, my heart pounding wildly, my entire body trembling from the shock. A girl passing by rushed over to help me, her face filled with concern. She reached out to steady me, her hand brushing lightly against my waist. Then she suddenly gasped, her eyes widening in horror. "Oh my God… you're bleeding so much!" Her voice sounded distant, as if coming from far away. I slowly lowered my gaze, only then noticing the dark red pool spreading beneath me. At the clinic, the doctor asked me to contact a family member. I held my phone tightly, staring at Dante's number for a long time. My fingers hovered over the screen, unmoving. In the end, I lowered my hand and dialed Lydia Carbone instead. There was one thing I couldn't forget. The license plate on that car… was exactly the same as Dante's. We had chosen that number together. I stayed in the clinic until noon the next day, the hours passing slowly in a haze of exhaustion and quiet reflection. A nurse checked my vitals twice before dawn, speaking in the careful, low voice people reserved for rooms paid for in cash with no questions asked. During that entire time, Dante only sent me one message. It was short and oddly phrased: Viv's ceiling is leaking, so I'm taking her back to our place. The moment I read it, I knew it wasn't really him. The tone, the wording, everything about it felt off. It had Viviana's fingerprints all over it, like she was deliberately trying to make sure I saw it. When I finally returned to the estate, I stood in front of the door and entered the gate cipher out of habit. But it didn't work. I paused, slightly confused, and was about to try again when the door suddenly opened from the inside. Viviana stood there, wearing my apron as if it belonged to her, smiling brightly like she had been waiting for me. "Serena, you're finally home!" she said in an overly cheerful tone. "The old code was too hard for me to remember, so Dante changed it to my birthday," she added casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Come in, I'll get you some water." She stepped aside and welcomed me in, her posture relaxed and confident, as if she were the donna of this house and I was the guest. The smell of freshly cooked food drifted out from the kitchen, filling the air. Before I could take another step, she turned and ran toward the kitchen doorway. "Dante, Serena's back!" she called out in a light, almost excited voice. A moment later, Dante walked out. He was wearing the same couple's apron I had once bought for him. Back then, he had scoffed at it, saying it was childish and refusing to wear it no matter how many times I asked. Now, seeing him wearing it so naturally, I couldn't help but think he looked ridiculous. The Don of the Moretti Family, a man whose name made soldiers lower their eyes, standing in a kitchen doorway in a matching apron. The contrast felt almost ironic. He only glanced at me briefly before turning to Viviana, his tone soft and gentle. "Go rest in the bedroom for a bit." Viviana nodded obediently, grabbing a bag of nuts and snacks from the table before heading straight into my bedroom, as if it were hers. The door closed behind her, leaving just the two of us standing there. Somewhere deeper in the house, a faucet dripped. Neither of us moved to fix it.

Dante's expression changed almost instantly, the softness gone. His face hardened as he looked at me. "So, you finally decided to come home?" I ignored the accusation hidden in his words and instead asked calmly, "Viviana… is eating nuts?" The memory surfaced clearly in my mind. When Viviana first got pregnant, I had carefully prepared a meal for her, trying to be considerate. I had sprinkled a few nuts on top without thinking. She had gone into a severe allergic reaction. And Dante had completely lost his temper at me because of it. Dante frowned, clearly confused by my question. "What are you talking about?" It was obvious he didn't remember any of it. Or maybe he never cared enough to remember. I looked at him for a second, then shook my head slightly. "Never mind." He didn't press further. Instead, he looked me up and down, as if evaluating something. "Anyway, go freshen up," he said casually. "It's Viv's birthday today. I've already booked a private room at the supper club on Mulberry." Then he added, almost as an afterthought, "Just don't go too heavy on the makeup. You don't want to outshine the birthday girl." His words made me respond instinctively. "I'm busy. You two go ahead." Dante's brows furrowed immediately, irritation flashing across his face. "Viv already told her friends we're throwing her a birthday party," he said sharply. "If you don't show up, it'll embarrass her." He paused before continuing, his tone turning colder. "Look, I know you're feeling jealous because she's young and can carry an heir." "But it's not Viv's fault that you can't get pregnant. Why do you keep competing with her?" Then, as if offering me a compromise, he said, "Here's the deal. You celebrate her birthday tonight, and I'll grant you one wish afterward." "You can pick anywhere you want to travel," he added, as if that would make everything better. I hesitated for a brief moment. Then, unexpectedly, I smiled. "Okay," I said simply. That evening, I took my time getting ready. I carefully applied my makeup, choosing the best look I could manage. When I arrived at the supper club's private back room, I was right on time. The moment Dante saw me, he seemed stunned. For a second, he didn't say anything at all. Then he walked over, taking my hand as he looked at me, a hint of surprise in his eyes. Viviana's expression shifted slightly when she noticed his reaction. But she quickly regained her composure, her smile returning as she turned to introduce me to her friends. She moved gracefully through the room, her demeanor elegant and confident, as if she were the center of everything. In the corner, her boyfriend Rocco lounged lazily on the leather banquette, blowing smoke rings into the air like he owned the place, completely at ease. One of the soldiers stationed near the door glanced at him and then looked away, the contempt barely concealed. A waiter soon wheeled in a three-tier cake that Dante had specially ordered for her. The room buzzed with excitement as everyone gathered around. When it was time to make a wish, Viviana clasped her hands together, her face glowing with a soft, radiant smile, like a princess in a fairy tale. "I have three wishes!" she announced sweetly. "First, Dante can't call me a little troublemaker anymore!" she said playfully. "Second, Dante can't ignore Serena because of me!" she added, glancing at me with feigned sincerity. "Third…" she paused, her smile widening. "I wish I could pass my easy-pregnancy genes to Serena, so she can have an heir for my brother soon!" The room went quiet for half a beat. Not the comfortable kind of quiet. The kind where people glance at the Don's wife to see if she'll break. My fingers found the fine chain at my throat. Her words had barely settled in the air when my bag suddenly slipped from my hand. A piece of paper slid out and fell onto the floor. Dante bent down and picked it up. The moment his eyes landed on the bold printed words, Post-Abortion Care Instructions, his face turned pale. He looked up at me, his expression shaken. "Serena… what is this?"