From Betrayed Wife to Nobel Queen

After Helena moved in, the house turned into my personal hell.

One night, I went for water and froze—Giovanni had her pressed against the fridge, kissing her like she was his world, his hand already under her nightgown.

"Oh, Lili!" Helena shoved him off, face flushed. "He was just helping me reach the top shelf."

Giovanni didn't even flinch. He slid his hand back like nothing happened, irritation flickering in his eyes. "Her back's bad. I was just steadying her. You look pale—couldn't sleep?"

My stomach flipped. I didn't answer. I just turned and walked away.

At lunch, Helena "accidentally" dumped boiling soup across my hand.

"Oh no! Lili, I'm so sorry!" Her voice played sweet, but her eyes were stone cold.

The burn made me gasp, and Giovanni just scowled. "She didn't mean it. Stop overreacting—it's just a little burn." Then he turned soft for her. "You okay, Mother? Next time, let the servants handle it."

Something inside me snapped. I yanked the tablecloth, sent every dish crashing to the floor.

Giovanni froze—he'd never seen me like that.

Helena clung to his arm, tears glittering. "Don't blame Lili. It's me. She's pregnant—mood swings, you know..."

He blinked out of his shock. "And that excuses this tantrum?"

He started toward me, hand half-raised to grab my shoulders. But his eyes caught on my stomach, and he stopped.

Helena stayed close, waiting to stir the pot.

I was done. But Giovanni never let me leave the house.

Then something shifted.

The moment I stopped playing the obedient wife, Giovanni started acting soft.

He brought me water when I puked, rubbed my back like he cared.

When cramps jolted me awake, he'd leap up, massaging my calves until the pain eased.

He picked the sunniest room and began setting up a nursery.

I knew it wasn't for me—it was for the heir in my belly.

Still, when he looked at me with those gentle eyes, my heart tripped.

I'd waited three years for a look like that.

But I wasn't the only one who noticed.

***

At four months pregnant, I sipped the tea a maid handed me. Thirty minutes later, pain ripped through my stomach.

Helena barged in, clutching me like some savior. "Oh my God, how could you do this to yourself? Lili, even if you don't want this baby, you can't hurt yourself like this!"

I stared at her, wide-eyed, pain stealing my voice.

Giovanni stormed in. Her words hit, and his face twisted from shock to rage. He grabbed my throat.

"You took abortion pills?"

"I didn't..." I gasped, shaking with fear and fury.

"There's a bottle on your nightstand!" Giovanni roared. "The doctor confirmed it—residue in your system! Liliana Bettini, how could you be so cruel?"

He yanked my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. "I wondered why you've been so cold. Turns out you never wanted my child at all!"

"It wasn't me—it was her—" I tried to point at Helena, tears blurring my sight.

"Shut up!" he bellowed, shoving me back onto the bed. "You dare accuse my mother? She's done everything for you. I've been too soft—you've forgotten your place, forgotten the rules."

He didn't look at me again.

His voice snapped like a whip at the guards by the door.

"Lock her in the Confession Cell. No one opens it without my word."