I Hereby Revoke My Don

Marco’s pupils constricted. The hand holding the syringe gave an almost imperceptible tremble.

He masked it instantly, his fear morphing into the classic, offended rage of a cornered Don.

"Aurelia, what is that look?" he roared, using his authority to cover his guilt. "I am your husband! The Don of this family! Would I harm you? Would I harm my own heir?"

I could smell the sour stench of his desperation.

Husband?

A bitter laugh died in my throat.

In my last life, this so-called "husband" was the one who ordered me burned alive.

It was never my enemies who hurt me the most. It was always you, Marco.

But I didn't call his bluff.

I knew this drug wouldn't cause permanent harm to a healthy adult.

It would only induce severe muscle spasms.

The perfect prop for my performance.

"Of course not," I said softly. "I'm just nervous."

I raised my arm and pushed the cold liquid into my vein.

Marco let out a quiet sigh of relief, a flash of savage satisfaction in his eyes.

The drug worked faster than I expected.

Five minutes later, a violent cramp seized my abdomen. The pain was real. Cold sweat drenched my silk nightgown.

I collapsed onto the sofa, letting out a pained groan. "Ah… it hurts…"

Just then, Marco’s phone rang. His face went chalk-white.

He answered, listened for a few seconds.

"Damn it! Bianca's in labor too!"

He roared in a panic, completely forgetting me as I writhed in "agony" beside him, and scrambled for his car keys.

The rain was coming down in sheets.

Marco’s car tore away from the villa like a bat out of hell, racing toward Bianca.

She was sprawled on the back seat, drenched, her screams nearly shattering the bulletproof windows.

"Marco! Save me! Something is ripping me apart!" she clawed at his arm. "It hurts! Our baby… we're going to die!"

"It's alright, Bianca, stay with me!" Marco yelled, his knuckles white on the steering wheel as he glanced back at her, his expression frantic. "I'm here! I swear on my life I'll save you and our child!"

And me?

I was curled up in the passenger seat, my face a mask of pale pain. Marco didn’t spare me a single glance.

I was just a piece of luggage he’d tossed aside.

The car screeched to a halt before the family-owned private hospital.

Medical staff were already waiting.

"Quick! Save Bianca first! She's critical!" Marco roared, shoving aside a nurse who moved to help me. He swept Bianca into his arms and charged toward the emergency entrance.

As she whimpered in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder, Bianca’s eyes met mine. A victorious, venomous smirk twisted her lips.

I was left alone in the downpour, the rain mixing with the cold sweat on my face.

A few minutes later, two intern nurses rushed out with a wheelchair. "Donna, hang in there!"

I was wheeled into a delivery room.

The cold steel door slammed shut. My performance was over.

Standing before the operating table was my doctor—Dr. Isabella.

She had already dismissed everyone else, keeping only her two most trusted nurses.

Our eyes met.

Dr. Isabella glanced at my flat stomach, her expression a mix of awe and terror.

She gave a silent, solemn nod.

Everything was in place.

The minutes ticked by.

The thunder outside masked all the dirty deeds happening within.

Hours later, in the dead of night.

My hospital room was silent, save for the steady beep of the heart monitor.

I lay in bed, eyes closed, breathing evenly, feigning the deep exhaustion of a woman who had just survived a hemorrhage.

But every muscle in my body was coiled, every sense on high alert.

The lock clicked. Someone tiptoed in.

A faint, cloying scent hit my nostrils—a perfume I associated only with the Russians.

The footsteps were light, hesitant, reeking of guilt as they approached my bed.

It was Marco.

He was holding a tightly wrapped bundle.

Even through the thick blanket, I could hear a low, harsh whimper.

That was the bastard Bianca had birthed.

Marco held his breath, tiptoeing to my bedside.

His hands trembled, ready to swap this foreign-scented infant for the pure-blooded heir that didn't exist.

He leaned over, the baby’s face inches from my neck.

And in that instant…

I snapped my eyes open.

In the dim glow of the nightlight, my gaze was a sliver of ice, locking onto his terrified, twisted face.

"Don," my voice cut through the darkness, "what are you doing?"