The Last Prayer

Isabella's POV

My hands shook as I stared at the pregnancy test. Two pink lines. Clear and undeniable. Tears of joy streamed down my face as I touched the silver Santa Muerte medallion around my neck.

"*Gracias, Santa Muerte*," I whispered. "Thank you for this miracle."

"What miracle would that be, darling?"

I froze at Adrian's reflection in the bathroom mirror. He stood in the doorway, holding two champagne flutes, his green eyes calculating even as he smiled.

"Adrian!" I spun around, clutching the test to my chest. "I thought you were at the office."

"And miss celebrating with my beautiful wife?" He stepped closer, offering me a glass. "I had a feeling today was special."

My heart raced as I accepted the champagne. Something flickered in his expression – something cold and foreign that made my skin crawl.

"I have amazing news," I said, forcing my voice steady. "We're going to have a baby."

The silence stretched between us like a razor wire.

"A baby?" His smile didn't reach his eyes. "How... unexpected."

Earlier that day flashed through my mind – Adrian's trembling hands as he'd presented those investment documents, the strange browser tab I'd glimpsed on his phone.

"You don't seem happy," I said quietly.

"Oh, Isabella." He took a slow sip of his champagne. "Drink up. We should toast to your... condition."

I raised the glass to my lips, then hesitated. "You're not even going to acknowledge that you're going to be a father?"

"A father?" He laughed – a harsh, ugly sound that made me flinch. "Oh, my darling wife. You really thought this was about love? About family?"

Ice spread through my veins. "What are you talking about?"

"Drink your champagne, Isabella." His voice hardened. "It's the least you can do after ruining all our careful plans."

"Plans?" I set the glass down with trembling fingers. "What plans?"

"The merger of the Constantine and Romano families, of course." He pulled out his phone, starting to record. "Your father was quite clear – your fortune for our protection. A simple business arrangement."

The room tilted sideways. "My father... he knew?"

"Knew? Darling, it was his idea." Adrian's smile turned cruel. "But a pregnancy? That complicates things. Especially with my engagement to Elena next month."

"Engagement?" The word came out as a whisper. "You're already married. To me."

"Not for much longer." He nodded at my untouched champagne. "Drink up, Isabella. Consider it your parting gift to the family."

Horror crashed through me as understanding dawned. I lunged for the door, but my legs gave out. My hand caught the edge of the sink, sending the pregnancy test clattering to the floor.

"You... you poisoned me?"

"Such an ugly word." Adrian lifted his phone higher, recording my collapse. "Think of it as a business dissolution."

I crawled toward the door, my vision blurring. The marble floor felt ice-cold under my palms.

"Why record this?" I gasped.

"Proof of your tragic suicide, of course." His shoes clicked on the tile as he followed my desperate progress. "The grieving widow, unable to cope with her mental illness. Very sad. Very clean."

I made it to the kitchen, blood from my cut hand leaving crimson streaks on the white tile. My phone – I had to reach my phone.

The vase of orchids shattered as I grabbed for the counter, water mixing with my blood.

"Now, now." Adrian tsked from the doorway. "You're making quite a mess."

I clutched my stomach, thinking of the tiny life inside me. "Please... the baby..."

"Would have ruined everything." He stepped over my body to lock the elevator. "Can't have a Constantine heir with Romano blood, can we? Elena's children will carry on the legacy."

Somehow I dragged myself to the bedroom, leaving a trail of red drops behind me. My fingers found the drawer of my bedside table, wrapping around the small Santa Muerte statue hidden inside.

Adrian laughed when he saw it. "Still clinging to your nanny's superstitions? Pathetic."

The room spun as I pressed the cold statue to my chest. "*Santa Muerte*," I prayed in Spanish, my voice growing weaker. "*Hear me. See me. Grant me justice.*"

An impossible chill swept through the room. The candles flickered without a breeze.

"What the hell?" Adrian took a step back as the shadows deepened.

"*Santa Muerte*," I whispered with my final breath. "*Let me return. Let me have my revenge.*"

The statue grew ice-cold in my hands, emitting a brief, brilliant glow. Adrian stumbled backward with a curse.

Then darkness took me, and I fell into the void with my prayer still echoing in the shadows.

*Let me return. Let me have my revenge.*

And in the darkness, something answered.