The Night My Womb Warned Me
My husband, Don Cassian, just survived an assassination attempt. He limped in, bleeding, and ordered me to stitch him up.
But when I reached into his blood-soaked suit, my fingers brushed against something soft. Black lace panties. Not mine.
My hand flew to my still-flat stomach. For our child. How could he do this to us?
Ice flooded my veins. “We’re done, Cassian.”
His gaze was heavy, exhausted. He gave a single, sharp nod. “Fine. I’ll have my lawyer draft the papers.”
But then, a frantic little voice—one that wasn't mine—screamed from deep within my womb. [Mom, don’t leave him! Dad didn’t cheat! The family isn’t going to fall. It’s a setup!]
[Oriana Gallo planned all of this! She wants your place! She put those panties in his pocket herself!]
[If you leave, her men will grab you. They’ll take you to an abandoned warehouse and dump your body in Lake Michigan. Then she’ll play the grieving friend, comfort Dad, and become the new Mrs. Marino!]
[Mom, I came back to stop this! Please, don’t fall for it again!]
I snapped back to the present. Spinning around, I launched myself into Cassian's arms, my body wracked with sobs.
“I was just trying to scare you! How could you agree so easily? Are you that tired of me?” I jabbed a finger at his chest, tears streaming down my face.