The Don's 99 Betrayals

"Divorce?"

Lorenzo looked stunned, completely caught off guard.

In a traditional Mafia family, divorce isn’t just a taboo; it’s a humiliation. Unless one party ends up in a casket, the marriage contract is ironclad.

Lorenzo’s face went pale, his eyes instantly turning ferocious. He growled low in his throat, "Impossible! Elena, unless I die, you are a Moretti forever!"

Suddenly, he rushed over. Ignoring my struggles, he dragged me by the arm, shoved me into a room, and slammed the door shut.

The moment the door closed, I heard the heavy sound of the lock clicking from the outside.

That shove sent a sharp spike of agony through my already aching lower abdomen.

I thought about the fall I just took, and then I thought about the baby in my belly. Terror drowned me in an instant.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my voice as I begged him, "Lorenzo, my stomach hurts. I won’t fight with you anymore. Just take me to the hospital first, okay? Please."

Through the heavy solid wood door, his voice sounded pained and paranoid. "Elena, stop lying to me. If I let you out, you’ll leave me. You promised the priest you’d stay with me for life."

"I won’t sign the papers. Just let that dream die."

"I’ll handle the Sofia situation. I want the child, and don't you even think about running!"

"Lorenzo, I’m really in pain! It’s our baby..."

But the footsteps outside drifted further away until they vanished.

No matter how hard I pounded on the door, no matter how much I screamed, no one answered.

I don’t know how much time passed. My throat was so hoarse I couldn’t make a sound.

The pain in my stomach grew more intense, and a warm liquid rushed down my thighs.

My dress was stained with a large patch of blood—a bright, crimson red, looking exactly like that red diamond in his hand.

Waves of cold washed over my body. Somewhere deep down, I felt the life inside me slipping away, bit by bit.

Just then, a rustling sound came from under the door gap.

I thought Lorenzo had come back, and a spark of hope ignited in my chest.

"Lorenzo! Lorenzo! I’m bleeding! Call an ambulance!"

However, the response wasn't the sound of the door opening. It was several balls of lit newspaper and strips of cloth soaked in alcohol being shoved through the gap.

The storage room, already sealed tight, was instantly filled with fire and rolling thick smoke. It choked me, stinging my eyes shut.

From outside came that child’s vicious, immature voice:

"Bad woman! Papa left you to me and Mamma. He went back to New York. No one will save you no matter how much you scream. You can just die in there!"

A child.

My child was gone.

And his child wanted my life.

I couldn't wait any longer.

I staggered to my feet. This was a second-floor storage room with only a small, high-positioned ventilation skylight.

I looked around and found only an old, dusty sheet in the corner.

Biting my lip until it bled, the sharp pain brought a moment of clarity to my consciousness. I wrapped the sheet tightly around my hand, binding it the way a boxer wraps their knuckles.

Facing that reinforced glass window, I used every ounce of strength I had left and smashed my fist against it.

Once. Twice.

The pain felt like my hand bones were shattering. My vision went black, and I nearly fainted.

It wasn't until the seventeenth hit—as long and painful as the seventeen white diamond bracelets he gave me—that the glass finally shattered.

I climbed out through that tiny skylight.

Shards of glass sliced my arms and thighs. Covered in blood, I looked like a vengeful spirit crawling out of hell.

I jumped from the second floor onto a pile of garbage in the back alley. Dragging my broken body, I flagged down a passing black sedan on the roadside.

"Take me to the nearest hospital... Tell them I am a Moretti."

As soon as the words left my mouth, I plunged completely into darkness.