I Endured Her Moans Until I Couldn’t

In the Santoro family, there was one rule: the heir marries a daughter from another powerful Family.

But Alessio Santoro was crazy. He wanted to marry me, a nobody from a flower shop.

He knelt in the family chapel for ten days straight. He even took a bullet fired by his own father, the Don.

All just to walk away from his title and run away with me.

I held him, crying, begging him to stop.

He just smiled and kissed my eyes, wiping my tears. "Don't cry, Thea. As long as I can marry you, it's all worth it."

In the end, the Santoros relented.

But they had one condition: Alessio would still produce the next heir. Just not with me. He had to have a son with Aurelia Rossi.

So I endured. I endured listening to them through the wall, night after agonizing night.

I endured the smell of her perfume on his skin, the sight of her marks on his neck every time he kissed me.

A year later, Aurelia got pregnant. It was a girl.

Alessio begged me, his eyes red. "Just a little longer, Thea."

So I waited another year. Finally, news came. Aurelia was pregnant with a boy.

I thought we could finally leave, finally be free. But then disaster struck.

Aurelia’s daughter had a sudden, violent allergic reaction. Everyone blamed me. They threw me in the cellar and left me to die.

And Alessio? He believed them.

This time, I was the one who gave up. I walked away from everything.

My husband had a daughter with another woman. When the baby had a severe allergic reaction, everyone pointed the finger at me.

"You vicious bitch!"

Aurelia loomed over me, shaking a silver rattle in my face. Her eyes were pure fire. "My daughter almost died! Do you have any idea the pain she was in?"

Two guards held me down in a chair. I couldn't move. "I didn't—"

SLAP!

The crack of the slap echoed through the room, leaving a fire burning on my cheek.

"Still lying!" she shrieked. "If you hate me, come after me! Why would you poison an innocent child?"

"I never touched that rattle!"

A voice cut through the noise. "Enough."

Vito Santoro, the Don, stepped from the shadows. A black pistol was already in his hand.

He pressed the cold muzzle to my forehead.

"You touch my granddaughter, whore?"

His voice was a low growl. I could feel his finger tense on the trigger.

"Father, don't," Alessio finally said.

I whipped my head toward him, my heart leaping with hope. He would believe me. He had to—

But his eyes were cold. Unfamiliar.

"Drag her to the cellar," Carmela Santoro said, walking into the room. Her voice dripped with disgust. "Let her think about what she's done."

"No!" I struggled against the guards. "Alessio, believe me! You know I would never hurt a child!"

He looked at me like I was a stranger.

"We had a deal,