Elena's POV
I'm going to that address.
The decision solidifies as I stare at the mysterious text message for the hundredth time. Tomorrow at 3 PM, I'll slip away from Dante's security team and meet whoever sent this. It's risky and probably stupid, but staying here is killing me slowly.
I'm still thinking about escape plans when Dante's assistant calls with new orders: I'm required to attend a charity gala tonight. As Dante's wife, my presence is mandatory.
"But I'm pregnant," I protest weakly. "The morning sickness—"
"Mr. Moretti was very clear. You'll attend. A car will pick you up at seven."
She hangs up before I can argue.
Of course. Dante needs to parade his pregnant wife in front of his business associates. Show everyone that he's successfully producing an heir. I'm not a person—I'm a trophy to display.
Margaret helps me into a dress that Dante's stylist selected. It's beautiful and expensive, but it feels like a costume. Like I'm playing the role of Mrs. Moretti for an audience that doesn't care if I'm dying inside.
"You look lovely," Margaret says gently.
I look like a ghost wearing diamonds.
The gala is a nightmare from the moment I arrive.
Dante is already there, surrounded by powerful men in expensive suits. He glances at me once—a cold, assessing look that checks if I'm presentable—then returns to his conversation without acknowledging me further.
I'm invisible. Even when I'm standing right here.
A waiter offers champagne. I take sparkling water instead, my hand unconsciously touching my stomach. The baby is eight weeks old now. Still tiny. Still vulnerable. Still the only thing keeping me sane.
"Elena Moretti. How... domestic."
I turn to find Vivienne Ashford standing behind me, wearing a dress that probably costs more than a car. She's stunning and predatory, and her smile promises pain.
"Vivienne," I say, trying to sound calm. "I didn't know you'd be here."
"Oh, darling, I'm always here. I'm part of Dante's world. You're just... visiting." She looks me up and down with disgust. "Although I suppose you'll be gone soon enough. Once you deliver the merchandise."
My face burns. "I don't know what you mean."
"Please. Everyone knows why Dante married you. You're the incubator. The walking womb." She leans closer, her perfume suffocating. "Did you actually think he loved you? That a man like Dante Moretti would choose someone like you?"
The words cut deep because they're true. I did think that. I was stupid enough to believe in fairy tales.
"Dante is my husband," I say, hating how weak my voice sounds.
Vivienne laughs—a cruel, tinkling sound. "Legally, maybe. But in every way that matters, he's mine. We've known each other since we were children. Our families expect us to marry eventually. You're just... an unfortunate delay."
"Then why did he choose me?"
"Because you're nobody." Her green eyes glitter with malice. "No powerful family to complicate the divorce. No connections to make problems. Just a desperate little girl drowning in debt who was easy to manipulate. He needed a clean womb, and you were available."
I feel sick. The room is spinning.
"Poor thing," Vivienne continues, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "You actually thought he loved you. That's almost sweet. But let me explain how this works: you pop out his heir, he pays you off, and you disappear. Then I'll take my rightful place as Mrs. Moretti. The real Mrs. Moretti."
"You're lying," I whisper, but I know she's not.
"Am I? Then why does Dante spend three nights a week at my apartment? Why does he call me when he needs someone to talk to? Why does he touch me like he can't bear to touch you?"
My stomach lurches. "You're sleeping with him?"
"Sleeping, talking, planning our future." She examines her nails casually. "He comes to me after he's done breeding you. Says he needs to wash away the taste of desperation. It's actually quite sad how much he resents having to touch you."
I can't breathe. The walls are closing in.
"Of course, I told him to be gentle with you. The baby is valuable, after all. But once you've delivered?" She smiles like a shark. "You'll be thrown away like garbage. And I'll finally have what should have been mine all along."
I run.
I don't care that people are staring. Don't care that I'm making a scene. I just need to get away from Vivienne's poison smile and her horrible truths.
I barely make it to the bathroom before I vomit into the toilet. Morning sickness mixed with heartbreak and humiliation. I heave until there's nothing left, then collapse against the cold tile, crying.
Everything Vivienne said is true. I know it is. Dante treats me exactly like a disposable incubator. And why wouldn't he go to Vivienne? She's beautiful, powerful, from his world. Everything I'm not.
I'm just the breeding vessel who was foolish enough to fall in love.
I don't know how long I sit there, but eventually someone knocks on the bathroom door.
"Mrs. Moretti? Are you alright?"
I recognize the voice—Luca, Dante's cousin. The only person in Dante's circle who's ever looked at me with kindness.
"I'm fine," I lie, standing on shaking legs. "Just morning sickness."
I open the door. Luca's face is tight with concern and something that looks like guilt.
"I saw you run from Vivienne. What did she say to you?"
"Nothing I didn't already know." I try to walk past him, but he blocks my path.
"Elena, listen to me. Whatever she told you—"
"That she and Dante are together? That he goes to her after he's done with me? That I'm just the incubator?" My voice breaks. "Which part was the lie, Luca?"
His silence is answer enough.
"That's what I thought." I push past him, needing to get out of this place.
But Luca grabs my arm gently. "It's not that simple. Dante is... complicated. He's not—"
"He's exactly what he seems to be. A monster." I pull away. "I need to go home."
"Let me drive you. You shouldn't be alone right now."
"I'm always alone," I whisper. "Even when I'm surrounded by people."
Luca insists on driving me back to the penthouse. The car ride is quiet, heavy with unspoken words.
"He wasn't always like this," Luca finally says. "The Dante I grew up with had a heart. But after his parents died, my uncle—his grandfather—beat it out of him. Literally sometimes. He was taught that caring about people is weakness. That love gets you killed."
"That doesn't excuse what he's doing to me."
"No," Luca agrees quietly. "It doesn't. And I'm ashamed that I haven't stopped him. That I've watched him destroy you and done nothing."
"Why are you telling me this?"
He pulls up to the penthouse and turns to face me. "Because tomorrow at 3 PM, when you go to that address from the text message, you need to know the truth. About everything."
My blood runs cold. "How did you know about that?"
"Because I'm the one who sent it." His eyes are serious. "I can't stand by and watch this anymore. Dante is my cousin and I love him, but what he's doing to you is unforgivable. I want to help you escape. But you need to trust me."
I stare at him, trying to process this. "Why would you betray your own family?"
"Because sometimes doing the right thing means betraying the wrong people." He hands me a card with an address. "Tomorrow. 3 PM. I'll have everything you need—new identity, money, a way out. You can disappear before Dante realizes you're gone."
Hope and fear war in my chest. "If he finds out you helped me—"
"Let me worry about Dante." Luca's voice is firm. "Right now, I'm worried about you. And that baby. You both deserve better than this hell."
I clutch the card in my shaking hand. "Why should I trust you?"
"Because unlike my cousin, I actually have a conscience." He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a thick folder. "And because I have proof of everything. The contract. The scheme. Dante's plans to take your baby. All of it documented and ready to use in court if necessary."
He hands me the folder, and I stare at it like it's a bomb.
"Tomorrow," Luca says softly. "3 PM. Please come, Elena. Let me help you get free."
He drives away, leaving me standing in front of the penthouse with a folder full of evidence and a decision that will change everything.
I open the folder with trembling hands.
The first page is the breeding contract in full detail. The second page is worse—security footage from inside the penthouse. Dates and timestamps of every horrible moment between me and Dante.
But the third page makes my blood freeze.
It's a second contract. One I've never seen before.
CUSTODY TERMINATION AGREEMENT
My eyes scan the legal language, and horror crawls up my spine. This contract states that upon birth, Elena Russo Moretti will be declared mentally unfit. Medical evidence will show postpartum psychosis. The baby will be removed for safety reasons. Mother's parental rights will be terminated permanently.
It's already signed by Dante and his lawyers. Dated for one week after my due date.
He's not just planning to divorce me.
He's planning to have me declared insane so I can never fight for custody.
And according to the signatures at the bottom, Dante's grandfather's personal doctor is already prepared to provide the false diagnosis.
I'm not going to lose my baby in a divorce.
I'm going to be locked in a psychiatric facility while Dante takes everything.