Mafia Don's Regret: His Heir Never Existed

Gianna POV

The heavy metal door clicked shut, sealing me in the quiet of the room.

I took a deep breath. The dry air scraped against my throat.

Slowly, I picked up a silver fork and cut a large piece of the ruined cake.

I forced myself to eat the entire birthday meal, swallowing down the dry, overly sweet food until my stomach ached. A dull, methodical punishment with every bite.

When there was nothing left, I wiped my mouth with a linen napkin. I reached across the table, my fingers closing around the heavy gold pen beside the manila envelope.

My signature was a smooth, unbroken line.

I left the document next to the ruined dessert—a final, silent testament to the death of our marriage.

I stood up, a new resolve settling like a cold weight in my gut.

I looked down at my stomach one last time. Beneath my palm, something impossibly small and impossibly fragile had begun to grow. A life that would tie me to this world of blood and betrayal forever.

I could not let that happen.

I would not bring a child into his cage.

I grabbed my heavy wool coat and slipped out through the back service elevator.

The night air bit through my clothes as I hailed a passing cab and slid into the backseat.

I gave the driver an address far outside the Family's territory—a place where no questions were asked, where a woman could make her own choice without the Don's shadow falling over her.

Christian wanted an heir.

He would never know.