Dumped the Don, Kept the Kids

I jolted awake as ice-cold water drenched me.

Vincent loomed over me, face twisted in disgust.

"Cut the act. You knew I'm announcing Lucy and the heir tomorrow, and you still tried running off to another city? What, hoping people would think Lucy bullied you?"

Lucy hovered behind him, baby in her arms, tears streaking her face. "Avila, I know you hate me. But if you want revenge, take it out on me. Why drag Madam Maria into it—why try to steal my baby?

"The assistant wouldn't shut up before they dragged her off, saying Madam Maria went back to change the paperwork, to adopt my child for you. Saying I'm not fit to be the heir's mother..."

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

Shaking, I forced the words through trembling lips. "I... didn't... take me to the hospital... my babies... they're dying..."

"Another lie." Vincent's scowl cut through me. "My mother ran out of the hospital in a frenzy, dragged in lawyers, worked all night—because you pushed her.

"You think stealing Lucy's kid will lock in your place as the heir's mother?

"Didn't you already give birth yesterday? Still faking labor to get pity? Keep dreaming."

Pain ripped through me. The blood had dried on my skin and clothes, reeking of rot.

Lucy gagged, covering her mouth. "Avila, you know I can't stand blood after giving birth. You still won't clean yourself? You're doing this on purpose to disgust me, to make me faint, aren't you?"

She shook in Vincent's arms, pale, pitiful.

"Look at you!" Vincent snapped. "Pathetic. Filthy. You've disgraced the Corleone name!"

He flicked his hand at the guards. "Keep dumping water till she shuts up."

Buckets crashed over me, ice soaking my skin, my lips turning blue, my body shaking uncontrollably. Only then did he raise his hand to stop.

Lucy sobbed against him. "Avila, please... don't take my baby. If you try, I'll throw myself out that window right now!"

She lurched toward the glass, and Vincent caught her instantly.

His rage snapped. He kicked my hand away, crouched down, voice hissing with fury. "You think hiding behind my mother will make you the heir's mother again?

"The estate's already locked down. Whatever you're plotting, it's over. And you—how many times have I warned you? Don't touch Lucy. Don't touch her kid. You never listen.

"So now, I'll handle it my way."

He spun on the guards. "She pushed Lucy to suicide. She pays. Cut Georginio's ventilator—then toss him off the balcony."

"Vincent!" I screamed. "You're insane! That's my father! He saved your life!"

"So what?" His sneer cut like a blade. "He saved me just to chain me to you, to force your kid into the Corleone Family.

"Well, I married you. I knocked you up. But you didn't deliver my first child—that's on you. My debt's paid. I owe you nothing."

"Do it!" he barked.

I lunged at the guards, but one boot caught me hard. I slammed to the ground.

Blood that had dried suddenly gushed again, pooling thick and red beneath me.

I screamed, curling in agony as my body ripped apart.

Vincent started toward me—then froze.

His eyes locked on my belly, still swollen, bared from the kick. His face drained when he saw the spreading blood.

He dropped to his knees, grabbing me with shaking hands.

Then he whipped toward Lucy, voice cracking. "What the hell is this?! You swore you oversaw Avila's delivery. You told me she gave birth yesterday—that the babies were in the nursery! Then why is her belly still huge? Why the hell is she still bleeding?!"

Lucy's face cracked for just a second—then the tears came fast. She fumbled out her phone, sobbing.

"Avila DID give birth yesterday. The baby's been in the nursery. I knew she'd try to frame me, so I had the doctor record proof."

She shoved the phone at him. The screen showed a grainy clip of a baby—clearly a month old, the lie so sloppy it was laughable.

But Vincent barely glanced before his face hardened with belief.

"You lied to me!" His growl filled the room. "You faked labor, faked the blood—just to guilt me? Pathetic. How low can you sink? You really thought I'd fall for this again? Dream on."

His boot slammed into my stomach.

A scream ripped out of me, raw, animal. My body turned cold, stiff, slipping further from me with every breath.

I couldn't even beg anymore. Just curled in on myself, shivering in a pool of blood.

Vincent stripped off his stained jacket, guilt flickering as he turned to Lucy.

"Sorry, Lucy. You shouldn't have to smell this filth. I'll finish it now. After, I'll take you to the private island for our honeymoon—as my apology for doubting you. Okay?"

Lucy's eyes shimmered. She shook her head, voice soft, fragile.

"Forget it. Avila hates me too much... If you take me away, what if she finds another way to take my baby? Maybe I should just go, leave with the child. Let HER baby be the heir instead."

So soft, so selfless—it landed exactly where she aimed.

Vincent's face darkened, his tone flat, freezing. "Don't worry. She won't get another chance to hurt you or the baby."

He raised his hand. "Lock her in the wine cellar. Once I announce Lucy's son as heir at the press conference, then let her out."

The guards dragged me like a rag doll, blood streaking the polished floor in a long red smear.

Barely conscious, I clung to my last breath.

"Please... Vincent..." My voice rasped. "What I asked your mom for... was divorce papers. I wasn't trying to steal Lucy's child. You already killed my babies once. They won't survive this time either. I gave way for the three of you. Please... don't hurt my father..."

Blood and tears dripped together, one drop at a time.

Vincent's voice came sharp with irritation. "Fine. As long as you stay put in the cellar today, I won't—"

Bang.

A sickening thud cracked through the air.

My eyes widened in horror as my father's body crashed down from the upper floor, slamming onto the cold cement right in front of me.

The eyes that once held me with warmth were now empty, bloodshot, broken.

"Dad!"

The scream ripped out of me as I crawled toward him, but a guard jerked me back before I could reach his side.

"Get her out," Vincent said quietly, turning his face away. "He was a dead man walking anyway. Now he's free."

"Vincent Corleone—you're the worst!" My voice tore out wild, hysterical. "You killed your own babies, and now your savior?! You'll rot in hell!"

He frowned, eyes lingering on me, then let out a heavy sigh.

"Keep her locked up. If she asks for anything in the next few days... give it to her. Take care of her."

***

To crown his heir and flaunt Lucy, Vincent went all out.

He had Italy's top goldsmiths forge a solid gold cross taller than a man.

He dropped millions on a private Mediterranean island—naming it after her.

For the first time ever, the reclusive Don went public with a social handle: LoveLucy.

His first post was a sickly-sweet declaration:

[Thank you to the most important woman in my life, Lucy, for giving me my firstborn son. My life is now complete.]

The press conference dragged on for three days. Every major family, politician, and business shark filled the hall. Cameras flashed as Vincent posed with Lucy on his arm, all smiles.

But behind the scenes, his eyes kept flicking to his phone.

Waiting.

Waiting for news from the estate.

Even on the last night, the screen stayed dark.

Finally, Vincent's patience snapped. He made the call.

"It's been three days. Has Avila caused trouble? Asked to see me? Threatened to crash the press conference?"

The maid's voice shook. "No, Don. Mrs. Corleone hasn't said a word these three days. She hasn't touched the food left outside her door."

Vincent let out a cold laugh. "Heh. Just sulking. I told her—whoever gave me my firstborn son, that child is the heir.

"She failed. Then she tried it all—playing victim, going after Lucy, teaming up with my mother to steal the kid. I let it slide. I've been more than fair.

"And now this? A hunger strike?"

He thought of Georginio's broken body and sighed. "She still mad about her father?

"Tell her it was an accident. I didn't think it would actually happen. If she eats again, I'll give him a proper burial.

"Hell, I'll even register Lucy's child under her name—let her keep her little fantasy as the heir's mother. But she stops targeting Lucy. From now on, Lucy lives in the estate too. Equal footing."

The maid bobbed her head and rushed to the cellar.

The heavy door groaned open—

And a scream tore through the silence.

"Don! Something's wrong!! Mrs. Corleone... she's dead! And there's a dead baby beside her!"