Chapter 3

Dr. Bianchi tore into the adjacent nurses' station like a man possessed, ripping open cabinets in search of emergency supplies. Every shelf was bare—not even a basic hemostat or roll of gauze.

"The medications! Hemostatics! Oxytocin!" He roared at the two nurses.

One of them answered in a near-whisper: "They've all been sent to the third floor."

"Mr. Dante ordered that all medical resources be prioritized for Ms. Eleanora."

Dr. Bianchi slammed his fist against the cabinet.

He looked at me with bloodshot eyes, his lips quivering: "I'm sorry, Valentina. I'm so sorry…"

"There's nothing I can do…"

Bianca strolled over and patted his shoulder. "Relax, Doctor."

"Valentina hasn't actually delivered yet, has she? Once Eleanora's done, we'll bring the equipment and meds right back down."

She glanced at the blood still streaming between my legs and added: "Even if it does come out, it's just a girl. Lose it and move on."

"The Corsetti family is not short of heirs."

I fixed my eyes on her.

On this woman I'd loved like a little sister for three years.

Then, with every ounce of strength I had left, I forced out two words: "You're. Vile."

Bianca's expression hardened.

She bent down, brought her lips close to my ear, and dropped her voice low: "Go ahead and curse. Knock yourself out."

"Once you've delivered and your body's wrecked, I have plenty of ways to shut you up."

"When that happens, the title of Donna will belong to Eleanora."

"As for you—" She straightened up, flashing a smile so radiant it was blinding.

"For my brother's sake, we'll let you keep your life. You can serve the household as a maid."

Dr. Bianchi couldn't take it anymore.

"Bianca! This is murder!"

"Murder?" Bianca scoffed, her eyes like ice. "Watch your mouth, Doctor."

"Women die in childbirth all the time. It's perfectly ordinary."

"Besides, which member of this family hasn't seen a dead body?"

She turned to the guards at the door and waved her hand. "Escort Dr. Bianchi to the break room."

"I'll look after Valentina myself."

Two guards stepped forward immediately, seizing the struggling doctor and dragging him away.

Dr. Bianchi fought against them, shouting: "Valentina! Press the pressure point below the carotid artery! And the median nerve on the inside of your wrist! Press them repeatedly! It can stimulate contractions!!"

"Don't give up! You have to hold on!"

His voice faded into the distance.

Bianca shut the nurses' station door.

She turned, pulled out her phone, and placed a video call.

"Hey, big brother. Valentina's about to give birth. She's bleeding a lot—want to take a look?"

Dante's face appeared on screen.

He was standing outside the third-floor delivery suite, medical staff bustling behind him.

"Valentina, stop making a fuss." His voice was thick with irritation.

"Eleanora's in trouble—the fetal heart rate is dropping. I can't leave."

Bianca angled the camera at the blood pooling beneath me and deliberately zoomed in.

"Look at Valentina like this—think she might die?"

Dante glanced briefly, then quickly looked away. "Tell her to wait."

"Once Eleanora's delivered, the doctors will go down."

"Bianca, just keep an eye on things for now. I really can't step away."

The call ended.

Bianca shrugged and tucked her phone away.

"You heard him."

"In my brother's heart, there's only Eleanora and the heir in her belly."

"You? You're just a breeding tool."

"And once the tool's served its purpose, it gets tossed."

I closed my eyes. I refused to look at her anymore.

My hand crept silently behind me, finding a button-sized metal device sewn into the lining of my skirt.

A gift from my father.

He'd told me: "Valentina, the waters in the Corsetti house run deep. If anything ever goes wrong, press this."

I'd laughed at him then, called him paranoid. Told him Dante treated me beautifully and the whole Corsetti family had been nothing but kind.

Looking back, I'd been an inexcusable fool.

I pried open the device's protective cover with my fingernail

and pressed down.

No sound. No light. But I knew the distress signal had been sent.

My father had promised: once I pressed it, someone would come within thirty minutes.

But thirty minutes…

Could my baby last that long?