Chapter 8
“Helena, I know you’re just saying this to hurt me, but you’re the one who matters. I know I messed up. I forgot our anniversary, I even stole the flowers from you. I was a fool. But I swear, I’ll make things right. I’ll make you happy, I promise.”
Talking to Ryan was exhausting. His words had no weight. They were just the same empty apologies over and over. He refused to understand, and it was maddening.
I started to walk away, but then I saw the panic flash across his face. He grabbed my arm, his voice desperate.
“Helena, we can have another child. This time I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of our baby. You’ve worked so hard to rebuild
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this empire–we both know it’s because of you that it’s even standing. Think about it, Helena. You’re the queen of the American Mafia. How can you leave all this behind? Our children–they will inherit everything.”
I froze, my heart pounding as his words crashed over me, but my response was cold as ice. “The child who was supposed to inherit it is already dead, Ryan. Just like our relationship.”
The moment he mentioned the baby, a flood of memories hit me–memories I had buried. I had been so excited to have a child with him, to build a family. But Ryan had never shared that dream. Three years ago, when I told him I wanted a baby, he had been indifferent. But when I couldn’t conceive, I discovered the truth: he had been secretly preventing it.
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The weight of his betrayal pressed down on me like a ton of bricks. It had all been a lie -the words, the promises. His mother had called me sterile, said I was no better than a prostitute because I couldn’t give him a child. But the truth was even worse. He had never wanted one with me.
Ryan’s face went pale when he realized I knew his secret. His eyes widened in shock, and for the first time, he looked truly afraid. The mask was gone. There was nothing left to hide.
“Now, you don’t need to drug me into a state where I could never have children. You’re free from any obligation to me.”
I met his gaze with cold clarity.
“To be honest, Ryan, I never saw things as clearly as you. In five years of marriage,
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I never once schemed against you. But looking at you now, it’s clear–you must have wanted children with Catherine, not me.”
The memories flooded back, making my blood boil with fury.
“That’s not true!” Ryan’s voice cracked with disbelief, hurt written all over his face. “How could you even think that, Helena?”
His expression was one of shock–betrayal, even–as if I’d slapped him in the face. His shoulders dropped, as if all the air had been knocked out of him.
“Helena, the Mafia was in chaos. Bringing a child into that kind of danger… it wasn’t safe
I interrupted him, my laugh sharp and bitter. His words froze in his throat, and I could see
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his hands trembling.
“Was it dangerous when you left me to die while I was fighting the Italian mafia?” I stared him down, each word cutting deeper. “That day, I was shot three times, blood pouring from my body as I waited for my worthless husband to rescue me. While I bled out, you were out there, enjoying yourself, betraying me.”
Ryan’s face drained of color, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
“Bullets?” He whispered, his voice barely audible. “No… that can’t be… Catherine told me you called-”
