I collapsed to the floor, grief hollowing me out—until something colder took its place.
Focused.
Sharp.
No more pleading.
No more hope.
I looked up at the doctor.
“Prepare my discharge,” I said hoarsely. “And copy every medical record. Every detail.”
Because I was done surviving.
Now, I was planning my revenge.
Avery’s POV
I was still confined to a hospital bed owned by the famiglia, my body sluggish and unreliable, like it hadn’t yet realized how much had been taken from it. My arms ached constantly, deep and hollow pain from the blood loss, and sitting upright for more than a few minutes sent the room tilting. But none of that compared to the weight crushing my chest—a grief so heavy no sedative could dull it.
I was grieving my child.
While I lay there beneath stark white sheets, surrounded by the quiet beeping of machines that measured survival but not loss, the world seemed eager to remind me just how insignificant my suffering was.
News of Don Zachary Moretti and Nina reached me without warning or mercy.
A former social acquaintance forwarded a video first—a glittering charity gala attended by political allies and rival families alike. Zachary stood at the center of it all in a perfectly tailored tuxedo, relaxed, amused, one arm draped possessively around Nina’s waist. She leaned into him with practiced ease, radiant, victorious.
Another clip followed soon after.
A private dinner gathering. Low lighting. Crystal glasses. Zachary lifting a fork to Nina’s lips, bending close to murmur something only she could hear. She laughed freely, tipping her head back, utterly shameless.
He looked… light.
Unburdened.
Like a man who hadn’t lost a single thing.
When the doctors finally cleared me for discharge, I left alone.
No driver sent by the estate. No bodyguard. No assistant hovering with instructions. Not even a courtesy call. I walked out carrying a thin hospital bag, the realization settling in with brutal clarity—I had been erased completely.
The thought of returning to the Moretti estate twisted my stomach. Every corridor, every room, was soaked in memory. But my passports, legal documents, and personal files were still there. Everything I needed to disappear.
I had no choice.
And then—because cruelty apparently wasn’t finished with me—I saw them.
They stood just outside the maternity wing.