The Don Loved Me So Much that He Let Another Woman Carry His Baby

Everyone knew Dario Moretti loved me more than life itself. Five years ago, he was an heir who had lost everything, hunted by his enemy. He was badly injured, and I hid him in my parents' wine cellar. The Cavallo family made us pay for helping him. They burned down the vineyard and killed my parents in the fire. The day Dario reclaimed control of the Moretti family, the first thing he did was lead me into the main house by the hand. When someone sneered that I was just a vineyard owner's daughter, he had them thrown out on the spot. At our wedding, in front of the entire Moretti family, he promised I would be the only woman he would ever marry. In our five years of marriage, I went through 11 rounds of fertility treatment. Every time a cycle failed, he took it harder than I did. So when I saw Viola Cavallo, the eldest daughter of our sworn enemies, standing beside him at the private clinic, eight months pregnant, my first thought wasn't that he was cheating. The truth was more absurd than an affair. The baby was Dario's. But he had never touched Viola. All he wanted was an heir for the Moretti family, so he'd arranged for Viola to carry a child conceived through IVF. And my 11 "failed" rounds of fertility treatment over the past five years? Every one of them had been faked. Five years ago, during my first pregnancy, I hemorrhaged and nearly died on the operating table. From that day on, Dario secretly instructed the doctors not to transfer any embryo into my body without his written permission. He didn't see it as a betrayal. In his mind, I was his only wife and the only woman he loved. All he'd done was keep me from dying and find another woman to give the Moretti family its heir. That was when I finally understood. The biggest problem between us had never been that he didn't love me. That night, I texted an old friend. "Seven days from now, help me fake my death and get me out of here." Chapter 1 By the time my 11th round of fertility treatment failed, I had no tears left. For five years, Dario had picked me up from the clinic himself after every treatment. After the first failure, he ordered his entire motorcade to pull over. He held me and said, "I don't care if we never have a baby. All I want is you." After the seventh, I developed a high fever, so he had an entire hospital floor cleared and sat with me all night. Everyone knew the Don of the Moretti family loved his wife more than life itself. All those years, I'd believed that, at least when it came to losing a baby, we were hurting just as much. "Donna, the Don was just here," the nurse said cautiously as she put the syringe away. "He's still next door talking with Dr. Russo." I pulled on my coat and went to find him. The door to the consultation room at the end of the hall wasn't fully closed. Before I even reached it, I heard Viola's name. "Viola is eight months along. She can't be transported any real distance from now on," Dr. Matteo Russo said. "If you insist on keeping her in the east villa, the whole OB team will have to move there tonight." I stopped outside the door. Viola Cavallo. Five years ago, the Cavallo family burned my parents' vineyard to the ground. My father died in the wine cellar. My mother never made it out of the fire. Later, after Dario reclaimed control of the Moretti family, he personally crushed most of the Cavallo family's power in Sicily. I'd always assumed Viola had left Italy long ago. But here she was, sitting at the consultation table. Not even her loose, flowing dress could hide that she was eight months pregnant. Dario stood by the window, his jacket draped over a chair and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His face, which I knew better than anyone else's, showed no sign of panic. He looked as calm as if he were reviewing an ordinary contract. Viola rubbed her belly and laughed. "So she failed again today?" Dr. Russo didn't answer. Dario looked up. "That's none of your business." "None of my business?" Her smile grew bolder. "I'm the one in this room who's actually carrying a Moretti baby." I gripped the doorknob, and my fingers slowly went cold. Dr. Russo lowered his voice. "Don, should we schedule another cycle for your wife?" Dario was silent for two seconds. "There's no need." "But what if your wife insists?" "Do what we did before." His voice was flat. "Carry the procedure through to the final step, then record it as a failed cycle. No embryo goes into her body without my written permission." My ears started ringing, as if something had gone off right beside me. Dr. Russo hesitated. "That makes 11 cycles now. Your wife still believes her body is the problem." Dario's jaw tightened. "Five years ago, during her first pregnancy, she hemorrhaged and nearly died on the operating table. Your team gave me the risk assessment." "That assessment only said high risk. It never said she absolutely couldn't—" "I won't let it happen again. My wife will not be exposed to even the slightest risk. I can live with her never carrying my heir, but I will not lose her. Do you understand?" He hadn't even let the doctor finish. Outside the door, I forgot how to breathe. A chair scraped inside. Viola pushed herself to her feet with a hand on her lower back. "If you need this baby so badly, why not just make me Donna Moretti?" Dario finally looked straight at her. "There's only one Donna Moretti, and that's Elena." Viola's smile faded. "Then what am I?" "The woman who delivers this baby safely." "And then?" "You get the money and protection we agreed on. The baby stays. You leave." He truly didn't love her. He had never once considered letting another woman take my place. Five years ago, Dario had collapsed in our vineyard, badly wounded, and I'd hidden him in the wine cellar. After my parents died, he knelt at their graves before his stitches had even come out and swore that as long as he lived, no one would ever hurt me again. At the first public banquet he hosted after reclaiming control of the Moretti family, he took my hand and seated me to his right. When one of the elders looked down on me because of my background, Dario had him thrown out of the main house on the spot. When someone whispered behind my back that I wasn't good enough for him, they were banned from Moretti territory for life the very next day. On our wedding day, he said I would be the only wife he ever had. All of that was real. His love was real. Yet a man who truly loved me had also kept me in the dark for five years, making one decision after another for me. My body. My children. My future. I didn't push the door open. As I turned away, I saw the nurse coming down the hall from the other end. "Donna?" I kept my voice from shaking. "Dario's busy. Don't tell him I was here." Back in the recovery room, I closed the door and pulled up a number I hadn't called in five years: Luca Romano's. When the call went through, there were two seconds of silence on the other end. "Elena?" "It's me." I looked at the olive tree outside the window and realized I felt calmer than I'd expected. "Luca, you once told me that if I ever really needed your help, you wouldn't ask why." "I remember." "I want to leave Dario." He didn't answer right away. I closed my eyes for a moment. "And he has to believe I'm dead." Chapter 2 By the time Dario came to pick me up, it was evening. The first thing he did when he walked in was touch my forehead. Then he looked down at the needle mark on the back of my hand. "Why didn't you have the nurse come get me?" "You were busy." "Nothing is more important than you." He said it so naturally that I almost asked him. Then what about the baby Viola is carrying? What about the 11 treatment cycles you personally stopped? So I'm important, but what I want doesn't matter. Is that it? My feelings don't matter either. You only care about what you've decided is important. In the end, I swallowed the words. It wasn't time yet. Dario thought I was just upset about the failed cycle. He bent and lifted me into his arms. My body reacted before my mind did, and I grabbed his shoulder without thinking. We had done this so many times over the past five years. He knew my legs tended to give out after the treatments. He also knew I hated letting the bodyguards see me like that. So every time, he carried me out himself. In the car, he told the driver to turn up the heat and cupped my hand in his. "Cold?" I shook my head. "We're not eating in the main house tonight. I'll have the kitchen send up some soup, and I'll cancel the family meeting too." "You don't have to stay with me." Dario glanced at me. "Elena." When he said my name like that, it usually meant he didn't like being told no. "I just want to be with you. I'm not staying because I think you need company. I'm staying because I need you. I love you." He stroked my knuckles with his thumb, his voice even gentler than usual. Yesterday, those words would have been enough to bring tears to my eyes. Now they only made my chest feel tight. Was love still love when it came with a flaw like this? Back at the estate, Dario carried me all the way up to the second floor. Mara Conti, the housekeeper, came to meet us and frowned at the look on my face. "Is Donna Moretti not feeling well?" "Light a fire in the bedroom. Send dinner up, and don't let anyone disturb her." Then, as if the thought had just occurred to him, Dario added, "Viola's having dinner in the main house tonight. Seat her at the far end of the long table." Mara was clearly taken aback. "Don, Donna Moretti just got back from the clinic." Dario looked down at me. "If you don't want to see her, I'll send her back." I shook my head. "It's fine." He studied me for a few seconds and didn't push. He just kissed my temple. "If anything feels wrong, tell me." At dinner, for the first time, I watched Viola walk into the Moretti main house openly pregnant. She wore a long dark-green dress and almost no jewelry, but her eight-month belly alone was enough to draw every eye in the room. Several of the Moretti elders sat along both sides of the long table. One of them glanced from her to me and smiled as he tested the waters. "Once the baby's born, the Moretti family will finally welcome the next generation. As for Viola, down the line—" "Get out." Dario didn't even raise his voice. The dining room went dead silent. The old man's face soured. "Dario, I was only—" "I said, get out." The bodyguards had already moved up behind the old man's chair. He had no choice but to get up and leave the table. But after dinner, as Dario draped my coat over my shoulders, he turned to Mara and gave her his orders. "Clear out the whole east villa for Viola. The obstetrician moves in tonight. Double the guards, and keep a separate evacuation route open through the north gate." I stopped short. Viola came up behind us, one hand resting on her belly. "Don't look at me that way. I've never wanted your ring." Dario's expression went cold. "Viola." But she kept her eyes on me, and her smile only grew bolder. "What good is a ring? As long as I'm carrying this baby, he has to put me first. Again and again." The words were barely out of her mouth before Dario caught her by the wrist. "Stop provoking my wife." "I'm only telling the truth." "Then learn to keep your mouth shut. You're nothing but a tool for giving this family an heir. Once the child is born, you will have no place in its life. Don't reach for a position that isn't yours. If you do, we'll replace you." Then he took my hand and led me upstairs. His palm was as warm as ever, but mine had gone cold, and I couldn't get a single word out. Chapter 3 When I woke the next morning, Dario was already sitting by the window, reviewing paperwork. The coffee on the table was untouched. The moment he saw I was awake, he closed the file. "I'm not going to the office today." "Why not?" "I'm taking you out." I meant to say no, but then I remembered Luca's advice from the night before. He needed time to map out the Moretti security routes, and he needed me to figure out which exits I could normally reach. I couldn't start acting strangely now. So I nodded. Dario drove himself. A single car carrying his bodyguards followed at a distance. The road grew more and more familiar until it hit me: he was taking me back to my parents' vineyard. The iron gate had been repainted, and the old stone wall had been repaired. Rows of grapevines stretched across the hillside, almost exactly as I remembered them. I stood at the gate for a long time. "Didn't you tell me this place was sold years ago?" "I lied." Dario pressed a ring of keys into my hand. "I bought it back two years ago." "Why didn't you tell me?" "You'd just finished your seventh round of treatment," he said, gazing at the vines in the distance. "Every failure hurt you. I didn't want this place to become another consolation prize." Down in the wine cellar, the old barrel my father had left behind was still there. So was the crooked line I'd carved into its rim with a pocketknife when I was little. Nobody had touched it. I reached out and ran my fingers over it. "You even kept this?" "Your father wouldn't let you have dessert for a week because of that mark." I turned around. "How do you know that?" "You told me once when you were drunk." I never would have guessed he'd remember. We walked slowly along the rows toward the back of the property. The fig tree was still there, and the old barn had new windows. Dario pointed at the barn. "Your mother used to say the barn had good light. She wanted to turn it into an art studio for you. Someday, if you want, we can fix it up." Someday. Over the past five years, he'd given me so many somedays. Once the treatment worked. Once my body was stable. Once things in the Moretti family settled down. Once the baby was born. But five years ago, all the somedays meant for me alone had disappeared, and I hadn't even noticed. The wind picked up toward evening, and Dario put his jacket around my shoulders. "Elena." "Hmm?" "Once the baby's born, I'll send Viola away." I looked up at him. He leaned down and rested his forehead against mine. "Too much has come between us lately. Once this is over, everything will go back to how it was." I almost asked him. If I told you right now that I know all 11 rounds were fake, would you feel even a little guilty? Every single time, I walked in full of hope and walked out disappointed. And right then, of all moments, his phone rang. Dario frowned and stepped out to take the call. On the drive back, the car rounded a curve, and a folder slid off the back seat. Papers spilled across the floor. I bent to gather them, but the top page stopped me cold. A medical authorization from five years ago. "For all assisted reproduction procedures involving Elena Vitale, the final embryo transfer requires the written permission of Dario Moretti himself." Below that was one more clause. "If permission is not given, all external records must list the procedure as a failed implantation or a failed cycle." At the very bottom was Dario's signature. I put the papers back exactly the way they'd been. Back at the estate, Dario went to the study for a meeting. I locked myself in the bathroom and sent Luca a second text. "I can't go the divorce route." He called me right away. "Why not?" "Dario controls the hospitals owned by the Moretti family, access to the airport, security at the port, and most of the private clinics. If I ask for a divorce now, he'll just think something set me off." The woman in the mirror was pale, but her eyes were strangely clear. "I need to fake my death. I need him to believe I'm gone for good. That's the only way he'll stop keeping me trapped." This time, Luca stayed quiet even longer. Finally, he said, "Give me seven days." I closed my eyes. "Okay." Chapter 4 On the fourth morning, I laid the medical authorization beside Dario's breakfast plate. His coffee cup stopped halfway to his mouth. Mara took one look at the paper, asked no questions, and led the staff out of the dining room. Dario looked at the document for a long time. "When did you see this?" "Yesterday." He didn't claim it was fake, and he didn't blame the doctors. He just slowly set down his cup. "Elena—" "Eleven times," I cut in. "I went through 11 rounds of injections. I prepared myself 11 times. And every single time, I thought my body was the reason I couldn't carry a baby." Dario fell silent and slowly curled his hand into a fist. "Five years ago, I stood outside the operating room and watched them carry in bag after bag of blood for you. The doctor came out and asked me which one to save if the bleeding didn't stop: your uterus or your life." His voice was steady. "You were unconscious for two days. The first thing you asked when you woke up was whether you'd lost the baby." My eyes stung, but I still asked, "So?" "So I decided there would never be a second time." "It's my body." "I know." "No, you don't." I couldn't keep my voice down anymore. "If you knew that, you never would have let me keep lying to myself for five whole years!" Dario's jaw tightened. "When you woke up, you said that despite the risk, you were willing to try again." "Yes." "I don't agree." "Elena, you can hate me," he said after a pause, his voice lower. "But I won't gamble with your life again." I pushed Viola's prenatal records across the table to him. Dario glanced at them. "Viola will only ever have this one baby. Once it's born, I'll send her away. Don't be angry with me over this, okay?" "So you had my enemy's daughter carry your baby?" "Cavallo blood will shut the Moretti elders up." His tone was as calm as ever. "Once the baby is born, they'll stop watching to see whether you can have children. They'll stop using your background and your fertility against you." "Have you ever touched her?" "No." He answered instantly. "The doctors handled everything, from collecting the samples to creating the embryo. I don't love her, and I never wanted her anywhere near our marriage." I looked at him. "So you don't consider this a betrayal?" That night, I locked the bedroom door. Dario sat outside it all night. When I woke sometime after midnight, the hallway light was still spilling through the gap underneath. That was when my phone buzzed. Luca had sent me a map of the route. The seven-day plan had officially begun. I stared at the map for a long time, then set my phone face down on the nightstand. The man sitting outside my door truly loved me. But something had opened up between us, a gap that seemed impossible to cross. Chapter 5 On the fifth day, Dario didn't bring up the argument we'd had over breakfast. Instead, he said he wanted to take me to the shooting range behind the estate. "I don't want to go." "Then we'll stay home." I looked up at him. Dario seemed to read the surprise on my face. He paused for a few seconds before speaking. "You said you don't want to. I heard you." If Luca's plan hadn't required me to confirm when the guards at the main house changed shifts, I probably would have stayed home. In the end, I changed my mind. "Let's go." The shooting range sat at the foot of the hill behind the estate. Viola had gotten there before us. Eight months pregnant, she stood behind the safety line with a practice pistol in her hand. I frowned. "She's eight months pregnant, and she's still doing target practice?" Dario's expression darkened too. "Who allowed this?" Before the instructor could answer, Viola raised the gun. "I have to learn how to protect a Moretti baby, don't I?" The muzzle swept right across me. The next second, Dario wrenched the gun from her hands. "Empty the magazine." He tossed the gun to the instructor. "From now on, she doesn't touch a gun without my permission." Viola's expression soured. "Afraid I'll hurt her?" Dario pulled me behind him. "Carrying this baby doesn't give you the right to challenge my wife." For a moment, I saw the old Dario again. In public, he had never let anyone challenge me. Viola sneered. "If you protect her this much, why does she still want to leave?" My heart lurched. Dario's eyes went cold in an instant. "What did you say?" "I said—" Viola broke off with a sudden grunt of pain. She doubled over, clutching her lower belly, and a small bloodstain quickly spread across her skirt. "Get a doctor!" Everything around us erupted into chaos. But Dario turned to me first, his gaze sweeping over my shoulders and down my arms. "Are you hurt?" "No." "Your hand." I looked down and only then noticed that a flying scrap of metal had cut the webbing between my thumb and forefinger. The cut was shallow and barely bleeding. Only after making sure I was all right did Dario turn back and start giving orders. "Get her to the clinic. Now." The obstetrician hurried over and said the shock might have brought on signs of preterm labor. Immediately afterward, Dario locked down the east villa and sent every doctor there. He ordered every gun at the range rechecked and every guard who'd been there questioned. Once he'd finished giving orders, he came back to me. "Give me your phone." I looked up. "What?" "Until the investigation is over, everyone's phones and other communication devices are being collected." "Including me?" He paused. "Including you." I stared at him. "You suspect me?" "No." "Then why are you taking my phone?" "Because I don't know how that gun ended up pointed your way, and I don't know whether anyone outside the estate knows what happened. You're staying in the main house tonight. Don't go out. I don't suspect you. I'm doing this to protect you." "Dario." He gripped my shoulder. "It's just one night." "And if I say no?" For a moment, he clearly hesitated. Even so, he took the phone from my hand. "You'll get it back tomorrow." I didn't say another word, but a deep fear began to spread through me. It felt as though we were drifting farther and farther apart, toward a day when there would be no way back. Chapter 6 The sixth day was our wedding anniversary. In the morning, Dario gave me back my phone. He didn't mention the rules he'd laid down the night before. He only said he was taking me out that evening. The car stopped in front of the small hillside chapel. Five years ago, this was where he'd proposed to me. Back then, the power struggle inside the Moretti family had just ended. His gunshot wound hadn't healed, and standing too long made him turn pale. Still, he'd gotten down on one knee in front of me, holding a ring that hadn't cost much, and said that no matter how high he rose, I would always be the most honored woman in his house. There was no one else in the chapel. Dario led me to the front pew and handed me a dark velvet box. When I opened it, my breath caught. It was my mother's necklace. I hadn't seen it since the fire. "Where did you find it?" "In a safe at the old Cavallo house." "When?" "Last year." "Then why did you wait until now to give it to me?" Dario looked at me for a moment. "I was going to wait until your next round of treatment was over." I went still. He realized how that sounded too. After a moment of silence, he stepped behind me and fastened the necklace around my neck. "Elena, I know you don't want to hear any explanations right now." "Then don't explain." "Okay." He didn't say anything more. The pendant felt cold against my chest, and I suddenly remembered something my mother had said years ago. She had pointed at the old barn and told me it had the best light. Even after I married, she said, I should keep some work of my own. Back then, I'd laughed and told Dario that even if I married him, I wasn't going to be a pretty Moretti ornament. He'd answered right away, "I'm marrying Elena, the love of my life, not some ornament for the Moretti family." But the longer I thought about it, the more it seemed that something had gone wrong. Somewhere between then and now, it had all turned into something else entirely. When we returned to the estate, several Moretti elders were already waiting in the living room. On the table lay the papers that would formally recognize the baby once it was born. Viola was there too. There was an old silver bangle on her wrist that hadn't been there before. I knew that bangle. Before each Moretti heir was born, the birth mother would temporarily wear the silver bangle. Once the baby was born, the bangle would be placed in the nursery. It wasn't reserved for the Don's wife, but it made the birth mother's connection to the heir clear to everyone. Viola made a point of holding up her wrist. "Pretty, isn't it?" I didn't answer. One of the elders raised his glass with a smile. "Since the heir will be here any day now, perhaps it's time some titles were—" Dario simply took the glass out of my hand. "She can't drink today." Only then did he look up at the man. "And one more thing: Viola is only the baby's birth mother. Anyone who calls her by the wrong title can get the hell out." Viola went pale. But I only grew more tense. Back in my room, Luca's text came in. "Tomorrow at the Port of Palermo, the medical supply convoy will pass through the private clinic's transfer area. There will be an 11-minute window at the back door. The license plates and personnel are ready." The next text was just five words. "This is our only chance." Chapter 7 On the morning of the seventh day, the sky over Palermo hung dark and heavy. Dario had only planned to go to the port to collect a shipment of medical supplies the private clinic urgently needed. On the way, he would drop me off at the seaside villa for a few days. When I got into the car, he buckled my seat belt himself. "Don't get out of the car at the port." "I know." "If anything happens, do what the bodyguards tell you." I looked at him. "And if I don't?" Dario paused. "Then trust yourself." Something in me stirred. Before I could think any more about what he'd said, a car suddenly pulled up behind us. Viola got out. She wasn't due yet. She already looked awful, but she'd insisted on coming along anyway. Dario's expression turned to ice. "Who said you could come?" "I don't want to be left alone at the estate." "Go back." "Dario, my stomach has been hurting for days." Viola lifted her chin. "You can treat me like I'm only here to have a baby, but at least don't leave me alone to die before I give birth." Dario said nothing. In the end, he had a doctor ride with her in the car behind us. As the convoy pulled into the warehouse district, I glanced at my phone. Luca had sent nothing but a single period. Everything was in place. The next second, the first bullet shattered the windshield of the car in front. "Get down!" Dario shoved me down. A heartbeat later, an explosion erupted behind the shipping containers, and the blast knocked the car sideways. My ears rang. The bodyguards already had their guns out and were firing back. Dario threw the door open, shielded me with his body, and ran for the temporary medical station. A second burst of gunfire came from the right. He barely hesitated. He threw himself in front of me. I heard him grunt. "Were you hit?" "It's a graze." "Dario—" "Get inside." He pushed me through the door. When one of the doctors pulled my coat open, I finally saw that a piece of shrapnel from the blast had sliced my side open too. Blood had already soaked through my clothes. Someone outside shouted, "Viola's bleeding!" Dario spun around. They carried Viola in. Her skirt was soaked with blood, but both hands were still shielding her belly. "The baby..." The doctors examined both of us at once, and their faces quickly turned grim. "Your wife needs a transfusion right now." "Viola's hemorrhaging too. The baby isn't getting enough oxygen. We may have to operate right away." Dario asked, "What about the blood supply?" "The transport truck just went up in flames. We only have one batch of the rare blood type left, and it matches both of them." The treatment room went silent. I lay on the stretcher, looking at Dario. When the shooting started, his first instinct had been to protect me. He'd taken a bullet for me. When he carried me inside, his hands wouldn't stop shaking. In those few seconds, I actually let myself hope a little. Maybe this time. "Give it to Viola." Dario was the one who said it. It felt like something had slammed down on my chest. The doctor froze. "Don, your wife needs it too—" "Viola is eight months along, and the baby isn't getting enough oxygen. It can't wait." He took my hand and leaned over me. "Elena, look at me." I looked at him. "Luca will stay here with you." He pressed a kiss to my forehead. His voice had gone hoarse. "You always pull through." Suddenly, I didn't hurt anymore. Outside, the gunfire was getting closer. A bodyguard burst in. "Don, they've broken through on the west side!" Dario's expression changed. He gripped my hand tighter. "Wait for me." I didn't say I would. He turned and ran out. The moment the door shut, Luca came to my side. He didn't try to talk me into anything, and he didn't make the decision for me. All he did was ask, "Do you want to go now?" I closed my eyes, just for a second. "Let's go." Once they pushed the drug through my IV, the numbers on the monitor began to drop fast. A nurse took off my wristband and replaced it with the ID tag that had been ready and waiting. As they wheeled me through the back door to the medical van, the firefight continued in the distance. Before everything went hazy, I took off my wedding ring and left it beside the bed. "Leave it for him." Luca didn't stop me. A few minutes later, when Dario rushed back into the clinic, the only things left on the bed were a death certificate and my wedding ring. By then, I was already in a car, leaving the port behind.