The Godfather's Bloodline

The interior of the car was cramped, the air so heavy it was hard to breathe.

I was forced against one side. Marco and Mia sat opposite me.

Marco had his arm wrapped around Mia, his gaze roaming over me without restraint. He seemed to enjoy the fact that I could not fight back right now.

Mia deliberately stroked her slightly rounded belly, her voice syrupy. "Marco, our child will be someone important. Above everyone else."

As she spoke, her eyes shifted toward me in open provocation. "Not like certain people, who'll always be gutter trash from the slums."

The words "slums" pierced my ears like a needle.

My thoughts were dragged back three years.

In a cold corridor in the hospital, I was kneeling on the floor, clutching a medical bill so astronomical it didn't look real.

My brother, Matteo Romano, lay in the ICU, his life hanging by a thread. Despair rose like a tidal wave and swallowed me whole.

That was when Marco appeared. He wore a perfectly tailored suit, his hair slicked flat and gleaming, his face clean-shaven. He looked down at me from above as I knelt there in disgrace.

He handed me a check. The amount written on it was enough to save Matteo's life.

"I'll give you the money. But you have to become my most obedient woman."

From that day on, I became his property.

What I wore. What I ate. Where I lived. Who I spoke to. Even the expressions I was allowed to show — all of it was controlled by him.

"Remember, Lucia, besides me, no one would ever want to bed a tramp like you. Your only value is pleasing me. Keeping me happy. Don't use that brain of yours that's full of mush. Follow my orders. That's enough."

For three years, those words echoed in my ears like a curse.

I obeyed and was compliant, not because I loved him but only because I needed that money. I needed Matteo alive.

I treated myself like merchandise that was clearly priced as part of a fair exchange.

The car jolted violently, dragging me out of the painful memory.

The car stopped in front of a private villa in the suburbs. There were high iron gates and heavy security.

It was Marco's territory.

I was a trapped animal in a sealed jar.

I kept my composure and warned him sharply, "Marco, this is an open challenge to the Godfather's authority. If you dare hurt the child in my womb or me, the Godfather will never let you go."

Marco sneered and grabbed my chin. "You think I'd believe a tramp? The only thing you could seduce is a passing truck driver. Next time, come up with a better lie."

A trace of coldness flickered in my eyes. I shook off his hand and faced his anger directly. "If you send me back now, I won't pursue this. Otherwise, think carefully about the consequences."

This was the first time I had openly defied Marco. He narrowed his long eyes slightly, tilting his head as he looked at me with indifference.

Smack!

He raised his hand again and slapped me across the face. Then he gave a short command to the men beside him.

"Lock her in the basement. Without my orders, no one goes in."

At his command, I was dragged toward the basement entrance. The heavy iron door was pulled open with a shrill metallic scrape.

I wrenched myself free and pulled something from inside my coat. It was the ring the Godfather had given me.

I screamed at the top of my lungs, "Marco! Open your eyes and look carefully! I order you to send me back immediately!"

I clutched the ring tightly between my fingers. It was not gold or silver. It was black iron.

Cold and heavy, the face of the ring had been smoothed by time, but the Family crest was still clearly visible. It did not represent wealth. It represented power.