The Cost of Playing Favorites

In the third year of my relationship with Dante Santoro, heir to the Santoro family fortune, I got pregnant.

The night before the Don's birthday banquet, he finally brought me home as his girlfriend.

Giulia Costa, the housekeeper's daughter, smiled sweetly and asked about my food allergies. I mentioned I was allergic to truffles.

In the end, every dish at dinner was loaded with truffles. I swallowed my irritation and grabbed a slice of cake that looked safe.

Two bites in, I heard her laugh.

"I got creative and mixed truffle powder into the frosting. How is it?"

Before I could answer, my throat closed up and I could not breathe.

Giulia gasped and covered her mouth. "Ms. Leone, your skin is turning purple! Do you have some kind of contagious disease?"

Everyone watched as I was carried out like trash.

The moment my allergic reaction cleared up, Giulia insisted on helping me pack.

I told her multiple times not to touch my ring. In the few minutes I spent in the bathroom, she "accidentally" knocked it down the drain. That was the wedding ring Dante gave me.

I lost my temper and confronted her, but Dante just laughed it off. "She's jealous of your pretty ring. Don't be so petty."

That night, Giulia brought sleep-aid drinks to my room as an apology.

Dante convinced me to accept her peace offering. I drank a few cups and felt drowsy almost immediately.

When Giulia walked me back to my room, I told her to lock the door behind her.

Ten minutes later, a group of men shoved their way inside and beat my stomach until I miscarried.

The baby was gone.

Giulia's eyes filled with tears as she claimed she never saw anyone enter. She said I never wanted the Santoro family to have an heir and had orchestrated my own abortion.

Dante went white with rage and ordered his men to dump me in the ocean. When I opened my eyes again, it was the night before the banquet.

"Ms. Leone, do you have any food allergies? I'll personally inform the kitchen."

The moment I stepped out of the car, a woman with perfect makeup hooked her arm through mine like we were old friends.

It was the same words, and the same tone.

I looked up at the soaring dome and the crystal chandelier emitting golden light.

I knew this house. This was the Santoro estate.

I had died here once before.

Dante Santoro stood beside me in a perfectly tailored black suit, composed, charming, and untouchable. His hand rested lightly on the small of my back with a hint of possession.

"Giulia is waiting for your answer," he murmured near my ear. "What are you thinking about?"

What was I thinking about?

Seawater flooding my lungs. Steel-toed boots slamming into my abdomen until the life inside me became a pool of blood…

My fingers dug into my palms, nails biting deep into flesh. I forced the memory down