My Mafia Husband Said He Was Broke

Blinded by rage, I burst into the sterile clinic room.

"Santino! You brought Luca here to use him as a guinea pig?"

"Have you no soul? He's your son, and he's just getting over being sick!"

Santino was standing by a window, smoking. He turned his head at my voice. When he saw me, his brows furrowed, as if my very presence was an offense.

Riley feigned shock, taking a step back.

Santino's thin lips parted. "Erin, this is a private Connor Family clinic. Don't scream like a madwoman."

"And besides, you're upsetting Riley."

"A madwoman?" I repeated, trembling, my tears splashing on the marble floor.

"Luca worships you! In that moldy basement, he drew pictures of you every day and called out for Papa in his sleep! He's just a little boy, and his body is weak! And you?"

I tried to rush him but was blocked by two bodyguards.

I struggled desperately, my eyes fixed on Luca, who was being fitted with electrodes and sensors, his small face pale with fear as he looked at the intimidating treadmill.

"You trampled on his adoration, and now you're going to run him to the point of collapse for a medical experiment?"

"Erin, don't be so dramatic. It's just a diagnostic test. He'll be fine."

Santino flicked his cigarette ash, his voice pure ice. "Finn's condition is critical. We need this data. Luca is my son. It is his duty to carry this burden."

I wanted to slap him, but I couldn't move. "You bastard! You don't deserve to be a father!"

Santino finally lost his patience.

He stood up and grabbed my chin.

"Erin, know your place. Don't force my hand."

Just then, a technician spoke up hesitantly.

"Don, the boy is showing signs of respiratory weakness from his recent illness. Pushing him through a full-protocol stress test could lead to severe respiratory distress or even cardiac strain."

A flicker of reluctance crossed Santino's face, but it vanished in an instant.

He turned to me, "You will stand behind that glass. You will smile, and you will encourage him. If he stops before the test is complete, the data is useless. If he panics because of you, I'll have you removed."

"If you don't agree, you'll be on your own for Luca's recovery after the test."

He was forcing me to watch, to smile as my son was tortured.

I stared at the man I had loved for five years. I looked at him, and then I laughed.

I laughed until tears of despair streamed into my mouth, salty and bitter.

"Fine, Santino. You win."

I was made to stand behind a glass partition. I watched as they started the treadmill.

Luca began to run, his little legs churning. He kept looking at me, his eyes wide with a plea for help. I forced a smile, but my heart was breaking.

I watched his breathing become ragged, his face flush with a feverish heat. The clinical beeping of the heart monitor grew faster, more erratic. He stumbled, whimpering, "Mommy, I'm tired."

"Keep going!" I heard Santino's voice bark through the intercom. I bit through my lip, my mouth filling with blood. My vision swam, then blackened.

Every second stretched into an eternity.

But I had to stay conscious.

I couldn't collapse here. I had to take Luca away.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, Luca's legs gave out. He collapsed onto the moving belt before a technician lunged to hit the emergency stop.

I heard Santino's cold voice,"That's enough. We have the data. Get it to the specialist for Finn. Take the boy to a recovery room."

I don't know how much time passed before Luca's voice pulled me back.

"Mommy!"

His face was ashen, an oxygen mask covering his small nose and mouth. His breathing was shallow and labored, and a rattling cough shook his small frame.

"Mommy, it hurt to breathe," he whispered, his voice muffled by the mask, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. "I was so scared I'd never see you again."

I pulled his small, feverish body into my arms, careful of the tubes, and my own tears finally broke free. "I'm so sorry, Luca. Mommy couldn't protect you."

I was a fool to believe that man had even a shred of humanity left.