The Dons Forbidden Wife

Serena’s pov

  “Mrs. Romano, without a deposit, we’ll have to discontinue treatment .”

  The words land like a slap.

  I stand frozen in the narrow hospital corridor, the smell of antiseptic burning my nose. My fingers are clenched so tightly around the strap of my handbag that my knuckles ache. The doctor looks at me with that careful, practiced sympathy,the kind people reserve for someone they’ve already written off. 

  “How much time do I have?” I ask. My voice barely holds together.

  “Today,” he says gently. “Your mother needs surgery immediately. If we don’t receive the deposit by this evening, the hospital administration will have no choice but to discharge her.”

  Discharge her? My heart lurches. “But she’ll die,” I whisper.

  He doesn’t deny it. He simply shakes his head and turns his attention back to the papers on his desk.

  I stumble out of the office, my legs trembling as I fumble for my phone. Antonio will fix this. He always does. He has to, he’s my husband, my partner. The man I built my entire life around.

  I dial his number.

  Voicemail!! My fingers ached…

  I try again.

  The person you are calling is unavailable.

  My chest tightens, panic clawing up my throat. I force myself to breathe. Antonio has been busy lately, important meetings, powerful people, the Romano family finally recognizing his worth. He told me to be patient. He promised everything we sacrificed would pay off soon. 

  I step into the hospital lobby, my thoughts spinning, when a familiar voice echoes from the mounted television.

  “—breaking business news this morning. Antonio Romano has officially been appointed as the new managing director of Romano Holdings—”

  I stop dead.

  The screen flashes to Antonio’s face. My Antonio. Impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, he exuded confidence with every contour of his figure Cameras go off as he shakes hands with guys in fancy suits, reporters shouting his name like he's part of the scene

  For a moment, the world tilts.

  Then tears fill my eyes not from pain, but relief.

  “Oh my God,” I breathe, a shaky smile spreading across my face. “You did it.”

  Memories crash into me. Late nights waiting up for him. Selling my jewelry to cover rent. Quitting my job because he asked me to focus on our home, on him. Believing in him when even his own family dismissed him as weak.

  And now he’s finally at the top.

  He can pay for my mother’s surgery.

  Everything is going to be okay.

  I hurry outside, dialing him again, excitement buzzing through the fear.

  Voicemail.

  I frown, then shake my head. He's likely in the midst of a crowd, getting pats on the back I’ll see him at home. I'll catch him off guard at the office later

  As I turn back toward the elevators, I catch sight of a familiar figure striding ahead of me.

  Antonio.

  My heart leaps. “Antonio!” I call.

  He doesn’t turn.

  He steps into the elevator just as the doors slide shut. I rush forward, but it’s too late. I watch the numbers climb, my reflection staring back at me in the mirrored doors…hopeful, anxious, devoted.

  I press the call button for the next elevator, my pulse racing.

  When the doors open, I step inside and ride it up, barely registering the floor numbers lighting up until the doors slide open again.

  Maternity Unit.

  I frown.

  Unease creeps in as I step out, following the sound of familiar laughter down the corridor.

  Then I see him.

  Antonio stands near the nurses’ station, his arm wrapped protectively around a woman with a swollen belly stretched beneath a luxurious cream-colored dress. She’s beautiful in an effortless, polished way. Designer heels, diamond bracelet catching the light. Her hand rests possessively over Antonio’s chest.

  They’re smiling at each other.

  Intimately.

  My breath catches. “Antonio?”

  My voice sounds wrong in my own ears.

  He stiffens.

  He turns slowly, his face draining of color when he sees me. Shock flashes across his features, then disappears—replaced by irritation.

  “Serena,” he says sharply, glancing at the woman beside him. “What are you doing here?”

  My feet feel glued to the floor. “My… my mother is in this hospital,” I say softly. “I told you last week. She’s very sick.”

  The pregnant woman’s gaze slides over me with cool curiosity, her lips curling faintly, like she’s mildly amused by my existence.

  My eyes burn as I gesture weakly between them. “Who is she?”

  Antonio exhales, then takes my arm, guiding me a few steps away. His grip is gentle but firm.

  “Lower your voice,” he murmurs.

  Lower my voice?

  My heart pounds painfully. “Antonio, please. Just tell me the truth.”

  He looks at me then , he really looks at me and suddenly smiles. The smile he uses when he wants something from me.

  “Don’t overthink this,” he says softly. “She’s Isabella Black. The hidden heiress everyone’s been talking about.”

  I blink. “The… Black family?”

  “Yes,” he says smoothly. “I was assigned to assist her. That’s all. It’s work, Serena.”

  My gaze flicks back to her whose hand still rests on Antonio’s chest like it belongs there.

  “And the baby?” I whisper.

  His eyes soften. “Part of the arrangement. It’s complicated. You wouldn’t understand.”

  The words sting more than I expect.

  He squeezes my arm. “Come to my office later. We’ll talk properly. I promise.”

  For a moment, I want to scream. To cry. To demand answers.

  Instead, I nod.

  Because I trust him.

  Because I always have.

  I leave the maternity ward feeling like I’m moving through water, my thoughts tangled, my heart bruised but still stubbornly hopeful.

  He’ll explain, I tell myself. He always does.

  I visit my mother briefly, holding her frail hand and lying through a smile. “Antonio’s doing well,” I tell her. “He’ll come soon.”

  Then I leave for Antonio’s office.

  The Romano Holdings building towers over the city, all glass and steel, power made physical. I smooth my dress as I step inside, nerves fluttering with anticipation and dread.

  The elevator carries me up.

  When I reach his floor, I notice his office door is slightly ajar.

  Laughter drifts out.

  Female laughter.

  My steps slow.

  I push the door open.

  Antonio is kissing Isabella.

  A deep, unrestrained kiss, not a quick, careless one. His hand gently holds her pregnant belly as if it's something precious She giggles quietly in his ear, her fingers weaving through his locks.

  My bag slips from my fingers and hits the floor with a dull thud.

  Antonio breaks the kiss and turns.

  Our eyes meet, his cold now, calculating, stripped of every lie.

  Isabella follows his gaze and smiles.

  Slow. Cruel. Victorious.

  Antonio straightens, adjusting his suit like I’m nothing more than an inconvenience.

  “Perfect timing,” he says flatly.

  My heart shatters.

  “I was just about to end this.”