The Don’s Discarded Surrogate

They caught my fiancé with my sister on the night of our engagement party. Tangled in a private wine cellar.

My family name was dragged through the mud. We became the laughingstock of the Chicago Outfit.

Then came Don Lorenzo Falcone. He proposed in front of all the Families, saving my honor and forging a more powerful alliance.

For four years, he put me on a pedestal.

But an old injury left him unable to father an heir.

This year, through the family’s private doctor, I finally got pregnant.

After that, his devotion became absolute.

I thought this powerful man was my savior. My only protector.

Until I heard him talking to his right-hand man.

“Boss, Arabella worships you. How could you do it? You had the doctor switch the vials, made Arabella the surrogate for the Moretti heir. Just 'cause Isabella couldn't handle the pain? The kid’s due in two months. What’s the plan?”

He was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was ice.

“When the child is born, it goes to Isabella. It's the only thing that guarantees her future with the Morettis.”

“And Arabella?”

“I’ll tell her the baby didn’t make it.”

“She’ll still be Mrs. Falcone. She’ll have everything she could ever want.”

So that was it.

My great protector. All of it… for another woman.

This tainted bloodline? I don’t want it in me.

And this sham of a marriage? I’m done.

“You’re not worried Arabella will find out?”

“She won’t,” Lorenzo paused before he spoke. “Arabella is a smart woman, but she loves me too much. Love makes you blind. She won't ever question if my words are a lie.”

Laughter echoed from the room. The glass of scotch in my hand slipped, the thick rug muffling the sound of it shattering.

I stumbled back, my legs giving out as if the bones had been ripped from them.

Four years of marriage.

I thought I’d found a protector. A man who would die for me.

It was all a lie.

I touched my small, rounding belly, my mind racing.

Lorenzo’s kiss last month, thrilled we were finally having a child.

Isabella’s strange smile outside the clinic.

His frequent “family meetings.”

The flicker of something in his eyes yesterday as he touched my stomach.

The child I was carrying… it wasn’t even mine.

I collapsed onto the bed. I didn’t have the strength to turn on a light. A deep, uncontrollable cold shook my body. My stomach churned and my head pounded. Tears slid down my face, but I didn’t have the energy to wipe them away.

Footsteps in the hall.

Lorenzo was back.

I scrambled off the bed, plunging the room into darkness, and huddled in the shadows by the fireplace.

“Arabella?”

The door opened. His voice was full of concern. “Why are the lights off?”

Such a good actor.

“Just tired,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

He walked over quickly and knelt beside me. “Are you feeling