Chapter 2

I watched the wet marks slowly dry inside the empty glass. Slow footsteps echoed down the clinic hallway. Dmitri was returning. Every loud click of his expensive shoes felt like a bullet hitting my broken heart.

I shut my eyes, holding my own hands tightly together under the sheets.

Tomorrow, I would bribe the Family's private accountant to expose his hidden offshore bank accounts.

The day after, I would gather the clinic's medical logs. Once I had all the proof, Dmitri—the powerful Don who treated me like a human breeding farm—would finally learn what happens when you push a woman too far.

Over the steady beeps of the heart machine, I heard the heavy door open. Dmitri was back.

He gently touched my hair, and his deep voice was full of fake love. "Camille, my sweet, why didn't you drink your water?"

I opened my eyes, staring right at the square lump in his suit pocket where the pill case was hidden. I forced a tired smile. "I just was not thirsty yet," I whispered.

I stared at the new glass Dmitri held out to me. Another white pill was sitting at the bottom, melting and leaving a cloudy trail.

It made me think of his fake, red-rimmed eyes when he fell to his knees outside the surgery room just hours ago.

"Are you zoning out again?" Dmitri asked. He tapped his finger against the glass, his knuckles turning white. "Bruno said this medication will heal your body faster. What you need to do right now is obey the doctor and take it."

He leaned over, pressing his other hand on the wall behind my head, covering me in his large shadow. His gold watch shined coldly under the clinic lights. It was the anniversary gift I gave him last year. I had paid extra to have it engraved with "Camille & Dmitri, bound by blood." Now, those words just proved how stupid and blind I had been.

I felt tears burning the back of my eyes.

I remembered the horrible truth I overheard late last night when the nurse was pushing my wheelchair to the scan room.

The doctor had whispered, "Don Gallagher, your wife's body has reached its limit. If we force her to produce more eggs now—"

Dmitri had cut him off with a voice like ice. "Shut your mouth. The special medication for Katarina's daughter arrives in five days. Camille will be ready for the procedure by the end of next week, no matter the cost."

"I will drink it," I said, reaching a stiff hand for the glass. But the second my fingers touched the side, I pulled back fast. The water was boiling hot.

Dmitri lifted one dark eyebrow. He reached out and grabbed my hand, forcing my fingers to wrap around the burning glass. "The doctor was very clear. This specific pill must be taken with scalding hot water," he said, pretending to care about my health.

As I brought the glass close to my face, I smelled a strange, sharp scent coming from the water. It smelled like crushed cherry pits and chemicals.

I stared at his hard, handsome face. I remembered how sweet and careful he was the very first time I got sick after we married. He used to blow on my hot tea to cool it down, and he would wrap a soft napkin around the mug so I would not burn my hands.

A wave of deep sickness hit my stomach. Suddenly, I started coughing violently. I let the glass tip over, and hot water splashed all over the white bedsheets.

"You are so clumsy," Dmitri sighed loudly. He ripped the glass out of my hands and turned around to grab a towel from the bathroom. As his dark suit jacket swung open, the fabric brushed against my face. It carried a very specific, sweet smell—the heavy vanilla perfume that my adopted sister, Katarina, always sprayed on herself.

I stared at his broad back, my fingers silently reaching for the handle of the small table next to the bed.

Hidden inside the drawer was my own metal water flask. I had filled it with safe, clean water that morning while the guards were looking away.

Before Dmitri could turn back around, I quickly dumped the rest of the poisoned water into the trash can. Then, I poured the clean water from my flask into the glass.

"My chest feels like it is on fire," I cried out softly, pressing my hand against my ribs as fake sweat formed on my face. "Maybe the surgery drugs are making me sick," I lied.

Dmitri stopped wiping the bed. His large hand hovered in the air before he finally placed it heavily on top of my head. He pushed down a little too hard. "I will tell Bruno to come look at you," he said.

When he pulled his phone out of his pocket to call the doctor, the screen lit up brightly. I saw the alert on the glass perfectly—the last phone call was from "Katarina," and the time stamp said "four minutes ago."

"You do not need to call him. Just stay here with me," I begged softly. I grabbed his thick wrist, pressing my fingernails right over his beating pulse.

Dmitri froze for a second. Then, he slowly took off his suit jacket and laid down on the narrow bed next to me.

The heat from his large body pressed against my thin hospital shirt, but to me, he felt colder than a dead body in the snow.

I stared up at the dripping IV bag on the ceiling, listening to the slow, steady sound of his breathing. I remembered how, after I lost my second pregnancy, he held me just like this in the dark. He had whispered, "We do not need any more heirs. I only care about you."

Back then, I cried happy tears because I believed him. Now I knew the disgusting truth. He was only acting nice because he was waiting to see if Liana's sickness would get bad enough to need more fresh bone marrow.

"Go to sleep," Dmitri ordered quietly.

He placed his hand flat against my empty stomach, touching me like he was inspecting a field he intended to sow again. "When you are healthy again, we will make another baby."

"Where is the baby?" I suddenly asked, my voice cracking in the quiet room.

Dmitri's hand instantly squeezed into a hard fist against my skin.

I watched his throat swallow hard as I spoke. "Bruno told me the baby already had a heartbeat when I lost it. He is my child. I want his ashes."

Suddenly, the loud air conditioner kicked on, breaking the silence in the room.

Dmitri sat up fast. The metal buttons on his shirt scratched against my arm. He looked down at me and said, "The Family's private clinic always burns its waste. It is gone."

"Then I will go dig through the clinic's incinerator myself," I said. I threw the blankets off my legs. But the second my bare feet hit the freezing floor, my weak knees gave out.

Dmitri caught my arm instantly. His thick fingers crushed my wrist so hard it felt like my bones would snap. "You are too weak to be walking around," he growled, a dark warning in his eyes.

"Then you help me find him," I demanded, staring right into his cold eyes. "I need to give our baby a real funeral. I want to wrap him in that little bear blanket I bought when I first felt him kick."

Dmitri's dark eyes shrunk.

I watched closely as his free hand reached toward the hidden pill case in his pocket. But he stopped. After a very long second, he pulled out his phone instead. "I will have my capo contact the clinic staff," he said flatly.

"Thank you," I whispered. I leaned back against the hard pillows, watching his tall figure walk away to make the call. Silent, angry tears slid down the sides of my face into my hair.

That little bear blanket was still sitting on the top shelf of my closet at home. The cute edges I had washed so many times were ready, but my baby never even got to see the sun.