I pressed my hands against my stomach and held on to what I was losing, and the tile beneath me grew warm and then cool and then warm again, and I understood, with a clarity that cut through everything else, that I was alone. That I had been alone for a very long time. That the name Valente, which had protected everyone in this building, could not protect the one thing I needed it to protect most.
But not a single person noticed the blood pooling beneath me.
I lay on the floor, screaming in agony. The marble was cold against my back, and the sound of my own voice echoed off the corridor walls and came back to me distorted, animal, the kind of sound that makes strangers look away.
No one answered.
"Help... please, save my baby..."
My mother had told me I could keep the child and take her abroad. Leave the husband, keep the baby. Those words had been carved into my mind for weeks. Donna Valente did not make offers lightly. She had laid it out in the private study of the Monaco estate with her fingertips pressed together, her voice carrying the weight of a woman who had brokered alliances between Families and never once been wrong. Come home. Bring the child. Leave the Rossetti name at the door.
I'd already decided to keep this child.
So why was this happening?
The blood was warm and spreading beneath me and I could feel my body giving up something it was supposed to protect, and the hallway was empty because every soldier, every enforcer, every man sworn to the Rossetti name had followed Tomasso out the door with Catarina and her stolen performance, and I was alone on the floor of a hospital that the Rossetti Family funded, and not a single person in this building knew I was dying.
As consciousness slipped away, I saw a nurse passing by. She froze, then rushed in.
"What happened? Someone help! Miss, don't be scared. Why are you here alone? Where's your husband? Do you remember his number? I'll call him for you!"
"I... don't have a husband..."
Then everything went black.
My baby was gone.
Four months along. Just barely formed.
The doctor said it was a girl.
I stayed in the hospital for three days. A private room on the fourth floor. The blinds drawn. The machines beeping in a rhythm that meant nothing except that I was still alive, which felt like the cruelest possible outcome.