Chapter 3

He stood in the doorway of my room, the bottle held loosely between his fingers. The casual way he held it made my blood run cold.

"Sofia is heartbroken," he said, his voice flat, devoid of any emotion.

I instinctively wrapped my arms around my stomach, a futile gesture of protection. "Dante, no."

"She lost something she loved," he continued, stepping into the room. "It seems only fair that you do, too."

He walked toward me, and I scrambled backward on the cot until my back hit the cold stone wall. "Please," I begged, the word a ragged whisper. "Please, not the baby. It's just a baby."

"It's a Costello," he corrected me, his voice like ice. "A Costello heir is a disgrace that deserves to die. A weed to be pulled before it takes root."

He grabbed my arm, his grip like iron. He pried my fingers from my belly and forced my other hand open. The pills rattled as he shook them into my palm.

"Take them."

I shook my head, tears finally streaming down my face. "I won't. You can kill me, but I won't kill my child."

His eyes hardened. "You have no choice."

He pinned me to the cot, forcing my jaw open with one hand. With the other, he shoved the pills into my mouth, then clamped his hand over my lips, forcing me to swallow. I choked, gagged, but it was too late. I could feel them sliding down my throat.

The cramps started within the hour. It was a pain that ripped through me, tearing me apart from the inside. I lay on the thin mattress, drenched in sweat and blood, as my body betrayed me.

He had the stillborn child disposed of like trash.

Something inside me shattered that night. The tiny flame of hope was extinguished, leaving only cold, dead ash. My will to live was gone. There was nothing left to fight for.

The next morning, I found a way. One of the older maids kept heart medication in her locker. A lethal dose, if taken all at once. I stole the bottle.

I would give myself ten days. Ten more days in this hell, and then I would be free.

On the third day, Sofia came to see me. She glided into my room, looking radiant. She gloated, her voice a triumphant purr.

"I heard the good news," she said, examining her perfect nails. "Dante is so good to me. I just mentioned I was sad, and he took care of that little problem for you."

I stared at the wall, my face a blank mask.

Her smile tightened. "Look at me, you bitch." She stepped forward and dragged her sharp, manicured nails down my cheek, leaving four bleeding lines. "It was my idea. I told him a Costello baby would be an insult to his family's memory. And he agreed."

I didn't flinch. I felt nothing.

Just then, Dante appeared in the doorway. He saw the scratches on my face, the defiance in my eyes, and Sofia's triumphant smirk.

He said nothing to her. He just grabbed my arm and dragged me from the room, back to his for another night of punishment.

As he pushed me onto his bed, I remembered the pills hidden in my mattress.

Seven days left.