No Longer Bound

Just as I wiped away the last of my tears, Ricky's name lit up on my phone.

"Summer," he snapped the moment I picked up, "you've grown some wings now, huh? Told my sister I was cheating?

"I'm warning you—you were the one who ruined what we had. You owe me. If you dare play the victim again, I'll cut off your mother's treatment."

If this had been before, I probably would've cried, apologized over and over like I always did, begging for his forgiveness.

But now?

I didn't want to anymore.

"Yeah, okay."

He paused, caught off guard by the indifference in my voice. Then he gave a short, mocking laugh.

"I heard you gave birth. No wonder you're acting so tough now. But don't forget—I'm the one in charge of the family. Without my favor, you and the baby are nothing.

"You think that empty title of 'future Donna' means anything? Let's see how long that attitude of yours lasts.

"If I don't marry you, your child's just a bastard. He'll never inherit the family fortune or the title of Don.

"So be good, listen to me. Who knows, if I'm in a good mood, maybe I'll marry you. Then at least your kid won't be born out of wedlock."

I closed my eyes, exhausted.

Titles… didn't matter anymore.

The baby was already gone. Whether he was born legitimate or not no longer meant a thing.

Since the night six months ago—when Ricky brought his lover back to our home—I'd already become the punchline of every joke in the Lenza family.

Everyone knew I'd fallen out of favor.

That night, as some twisted punishment, he locked me out on the balcony. I stood there in the freezing wind, snow piling at my feet, forced to listen to their moans and laughter inside.

Even his typically stone-faced bodyguards couldn't hide their pity when they looked at me.

From that moment on, this title of future Donna became nothing but a cold, painful reminder of that night—of the snow and the shame.

I had quietly endured Ricky's endless humiliations, telling myself it was worth it if he'd just forgive me… if we could one day go back to those happier times.

But that hope died along with my mother and my child.

And our relationship? It needed to end too.

I hung up.

Then I stood and called the funeral home, making arrangements for my mother's cremation.

When I returned to the hospital room, I saw Ricky standing at the door.

"Wow, Summer," he sneered, "you really are good at putting on a show. You sounded so weak on the phone, but look at you—walking around like nothing happened. Just gave birth and already running around? Guess you don't need rest.

"Didn't you love playing nanny to me? Perfect. Lindsay's moving in today. Once you're discharged, you can go home and take care of her."

I froze.

He grinned, eyes cruel. "You know, having someone outside the room while we're in bed makes things even more exciting."

He stared hard at me, waiting—no, hoping—to see me break. But I only lowered my gaze, quiet and numb.

When he didn't get the reaction he wanted, he clicked his tongue in annoyance, muttered something about how boring I was, and then turned to block a passing doctor.

"My son—where is he? Bring him to me."

The doctor glanced at me, shocked and uncertain.

"Your sister… already took him," I said hesitantly.

Ricky opened his mouth to speak again, but his phone rang, interrupting him.

He answered, and when he hung up, I couldn't tell if he was angry or amused. He grabbed my chin again, his grip tightening.

"Your acting's really improved, Summer. For a second, you almost had me thinking you didn't care. But in the end, you always resort to the same little tricks—complaining, tattling. Just wait. I'll deal with you when I get back."

He let out a cold laugh, shoved me away hard, and left without another word.

I stumbled, too weak to steady myself, and slammed into the bed rail.

The doctor rushed to help me up and glaring at Ricky.

"What kind of person does that?" she muttered under her breath. "She just miscarried—her body's already so weak. He could've killed her."

She looked at me, full of sympathy. It was that same expression my mother wore the day she learned of Ricky's betrayal.

I clutched my chest, where the pain throbbed beneath my ribs. My face, pale as paper, remained expressionless.

It's okay, Mom. Please don't worry about me anymore. Because I've made up my mind. I'm done loving him.