That was when the needle pierced my skin.
It was thick—too thick—more like a blade than a medical instrument. The pain hit instantly, sharp and searing as it slid into my vein. I didn’t scream. I wouldn’t give him that pleasure. But sweat soaked my neck, and my fingers trembled violently against the restraints.
As the blood drained, memories went with it.
Our first appearance as Don and Donna.
The night I stepped into gunfire meant for him.
Every lonely hour spent convincing myself that waiting was love.
He watched the entire time—silent, detached—as if I were nothing more than a container being emptied.
“Don Moretti,” a doctor said cautiously, “her vitals are destabilizing. If we continue—”
“Proceed,” Zachary cut in. “She’s resilient.”
My vision dimmed.
I bit my cheek until I tasted blood just to stay conscious.
Eight hundred milliliters.
That was how much they took.
I thought it was finished.
Then someone cleared their throat behind the privacy curtain.
Zachary straightened immediately.
“Double it,” he said. “She requires more.”
My breath stuttered.
“So this is for her,” I whispered weakly. “You’re bleeding your own wife to save the woman who shattered us?”
“She needs it,” he replied flatly.
I laughed—broken, hollow.
“And me?” I murmured. “You’d drain me dry without hesitation.”
His face didn’t change.
From behind the curtain, her voice drifted out—fragile, perfectly timed.
“Zachary…”
He moved at once.
I was fading, restrained, slipping into darkness—and he was already gone.
The doctor hesitated. “Sir… continuing may endanger the pregnancy—”
“Do it,” Zachary barked. “Or find employment elsewhere.”
I tried to scream.
The darkness swallowed me first.
---
When I woke, the world felt wrong—distant, muffled.
I lay on a narrow cot beneath a thin blanket. A doctor sat beside me, eyes rimmed with guilt.
“You’re stable,” he said quietly. “Physically.”
“That doesn’t sound like good news,” I whispered. “So what aren’t you saying?”
He swallowed hard.
“There was… a complication.”
My hand flew to my stomach.
“No,” I breathed. “Please—no—”
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “When the extraction increased… the pregnancy could not be sustained.”
The scream tore out of me.
I thrashed violently, knocking equipment aside, sobbing so hard I couldn’t breathe. I forced myself upright, dizziness crashing over me as I staggered toward the door.
“ZACHARY!” I screamed. “YOU KILLED MY BABY!”
He wasn’t there.
Of course he wasn’t.