The Don's Altered Rose Tattoo

My husband is Caspian Knight, the Don of the Knight family, the iron-fisted ruler of the Chicago mafia. He is a cold and ruthless man. During a difficult labor in a private hospital, with my life on the line, I begged him to approve an emergency C-section.

But he only watched, his voice cold as he insisted, "The women of the Knight family are strong."

Because of his delay, I was forced to endure an unimaginable agony, and our son was stillborn, starved of air.

He told me calmly, as if stating a fact, "Weakness is a betrayal to this family."

In that moment, staring into his cold eyes, I realized my love for him had died, buried alongside our son. So, I left behind a signed marriage annulment agreement and vanished from his fortress-like estate.

"Caspian, the wife who brought you shame, the one who wasn't 'strong enough'—she's never coming back."

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1

I placed the marriage annulment agreement and our son's last ultrasound photo on the massive mahogany desk in Caspian Knight's study. It was the only way he would notice.

Clutching my lower abdomen as another dull pang of pain shot through me, my face was ashen. Then, I booked a flight to the West Coast and turned to leave.

The estate's housekeeper, Rosa, rushed up in a panic to block my path. She hesitated, then whispered, "Donna, the Don said that if you're willing to behave, he… he's prepared to overlook this."

I shook my head, a bitter smile my only answer. I walked past her without looking back and said, "There's no need for that."

I had just arrived at the airport when I received a rare call from Caspian.

His voice was tight with rage as he accused me, "You run off, force a premature birth that kills my son, and now you have the nerve to demand an annulment?"

The hand holding my phone trembled. Standing in the security line surrounded by strangers, I fought to hold back the emotion, but tears betrayed me, sliding down my face.

That day was supposed to be my prenatal check-up. Caspian, the child's father, had completely forgotten. That was one thing. Worse, he'd locked me in the estate for defying him, forcing me to risk climbing out of a side wing. I never imagined I'd get into an accident on the way to the hospital, sending me into early labor.

Yet, before I could explain any of this, his sharp voice cut in again, "Samantha, as a mother, you endangered our heir. You left without my permission and caused his death. That makes you weak. Your naivete proves you have no concept of family honor. You are unworthy of being this family's matriarch."

The noise around me blurred into a dull roar, and I felt like I was suffocating.

After a long silence, I couldn't help but ask, "Our child is gone. Do you bear no responsibility at all?"

I was eight months pregnant; the baby was fully formed. The doctor had said that if they had performed a C-section in time, the baby could have survived. All it would have taken was a nod from Caspian, and my child would still be alive. But he refused. Perhaps he never wanted our child to be born in the first place.

I clearly remember our wedding anniversary. That very night, his old flame, Angelica Gallo, suddenly called.

She cried, saying, "Caspian, I'm so scared… you have to come save me, or they're going to kill me…"

He immediately abandoned our family celebration—abandoned me, his wife—and tore off to her home.

"I'm the person Angelica trusts most, I'll handle it! If anything happens, I'll take responsibility!"

In the end, Angelica and her daughter were both safe and sound.

Caspian finally breathed a sigh of relief, sending over countless gifts as an apology. He even stood guard there himself, willingly playing the role of her guardian angel. Meanwhile, I became the laughingstock of Chicago's high society. And I glimpsed that the rose tattoo he'd gotten for me on his arm had been secretly altered to include Angelica's personal symbol.

I sniffled, forcing myself to remain calm.

"Caspian, you saved Angelica and her daughter, but you killed your own child with your own hands…"

There was only silence on the other end of the line.

After a long moment, he spoke again, his voice laced with impatience. "Samantha, how can you compare yourself to Angelica? Don't forget what happened back then—"

He was bringing up that old affair that had been a sore spot for years.

I let out a soft laugh, cutting him off. "That's why we should annul our marriage. Then you can move the woman you truly want to protect into your estate and make it official."

His voice was a low growl. "Samantha, you will regret this."

Just then, the boarding announcement crackled over the terminal speakers. I picked up my bag and walked toward the gate.

"I won't."

From that moment on, the city where I had lived for ten years was no longer my home.