He Chose The Mistress, I Chose Freedom

"The child is mine."

My husband, the Capo of the Chicago Outfit, announced to the world, his hand resting protectively on his mistress's stomach.

He was lying to save her life, but in doing so, he signed the death warrant for the baby growing inside me.

Just hours before, I had finally gotten the positive test we had prayed for over five years.

But Dante chose to claim a traitor's bastard as his heir.

When I tried to confront him, he dismissed me cold-heartedly.

"It's a strategic lie, Elena. You aren't pregnant, so it doesn't matter."

He didn't know.

Later, when an accident left his mistress critical, he dragged me to the hospital.

He forced me to donate my blood to save her, ignoring my ghostly pallor.

He didn't know I was already bleeding out.

He didn't know I had just come from the clinic, where I had removed the "complication" he made me feel ashamed of.

He thought he was being noble.

He didn't realize he was killing his own son to save another man's lie.

On the night of the gala celebrating his "heir," I left a white box on his desk and vanished.

Inside was a medical report: *Termination of Pregnancy. 8 Weeks. Father: Dante Moretti.*

By the time he read it, I was already gone.