Betrayed For A Fake Heir: The Wife's Exit

Dante Vitiello POV: The sterile air of the hospital room reeked of antiseptic and deceit. Mia lay in the center of the bed, swallowed by the white linens, appearing fragile and translucent. The doctor had already delivered the verdict: a false alarm. Again. Just stress. I stood by the window, my back to her, staring out at the parking lot where my reflection ghosted against the glass-a hollow man haunting his own life. I had left Serena at the reunion. I had left her standing there, clutching my letter like a lifeline, her eyes full of a sorrow that weighed more than the ocean. A cold knot of panic tightened behind my ribs. I needed to go back. "Dante?" Mia whispered. I turned. She was reaching for me, her hand trembling with a practiced frailty. "Come hold me. I was so scared. I thought we lost him." I looked at her. I stripped away the history, the duty, and really looked at her. I saw the flicker of calculation in her eyes. I saw the way her gaze darted to her manicure even as she feigned a sob. I felt nothing. No protectiveness. No duty. Just a cold, heavy disgust settling in my gut like lead. "I'm leaving," I said, my voice flat. "But you just got here! You have to stay with me tonight. What if something happens?" "The nurses are here," I said. I walked to the door, my stride lengthening. "Dante! If you leave, I'll scream. I'll tell Nonna you stressed me out!" "Do it," I said. I didn't care about Nonna. I didn't care about the heir. I just wanted my wife. My real wife. I walked out of the room, letting the heavy door sever her shrill cries. I drove back to the school like a madman, tires screeching as I blew through red lights, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. The gym was empty. The music had died, leaving only a cavernous silence. The janitors were sweeping up the sad remnants of confetti. "Excuse me." I grabbed a man by the arm, perhaps too roughly. "The woman... my wife. Where is she?" "The lady in the blue dress? She left hours ago, man. Took a cab." I drove home. The mansion was dark, looming against the night sky like a tomb. I took the stairs two at a time, desperation fueling my ascent. "Serena!" I roared. Silence answered me. I threw open the bedroom door. The closet was open. Her clothes were there. The expensive gowns, the furs, the shoes I had bought her-trophies of a cage she never asked for. But her go-bag... the old duffel she used for charity runs... was gone. I went to the bathroom. On the counter, next to her toothbrush, sat her wedding ring. The diamond caught the moonlight. It looked cold. Abandoned. My phone jarred the silence. It was the private investigator I had hired to watch Mr. Gu, the rival underboss who had been encroaching on our territory. "Boss, you need to hear this," the PI said, his tone lacking its usual professional detachment. "Not now," I snapped, my eyes locked on the abandoned ring. "My wife is missing." "It's about Mia, Boss. And Gu." I paused. "What?" "I tapped the phone of Gu's mistress. She just got a call from Mia Russo." "Play it." The recording crackled to life. Mia's voice. Frantic. Angry. "He's leaving me, Gu! He walked out. He doesn't care about the baby. I need the money now. The two hundred million. Or I tell him everything." Gu's voice, smooth and oily. "Calm down, sweetheart. You have the Vitiello heir in your belly. You are the golden goose." "It's not a Vitiello heir!" Mia screamed on the recording, her voice distorted by static but the words crystal clear. "It's yours, you idiot! And if Dante finds out before I get my payout, he will skin us both alive." The phone slipped from my hand. It hit the carpet with a dull thud. The world tilted on its axis. The baby. My duty. The reason I had broken my wife. The reason I had destroyed the only good thing in my life. It was a lie. All of it. A roar built in my throat, a primal sound of rage and agony that tore through the empty house. The Dragon had been asleep. But now... now he was awake. And he was starving for blood.