Chapter 89

\## Lily's POV

I didn't flinch when Joseph began tying my wrists together with rope. His eyes betrayed his concern as he looked at me.

"Is this okay?" he asked quietly, making sure the bonds weren't too tight.

"I'm fine," I assured him, even though the rough fibers bit into my skin. "I can handle it." I knew this was necessary—Antonio needed to believe Joseph was in control, that he had successfully captured me.

Joseph's eyes softened. "I promise you'll be okay—I'll make sure of it with my last breath if needed. You and the baby will be fine."

When he reached for the duct tape, I tried to steady my breathing.

"Tell me how brave you are, Lily," he whispered.

My heart hammered in my chest as he placed the tape over my mouth. Fear coursed through my veins, and my stomach clenched with anxiety. The thought of facing Antonio terrified me more than anything.

"Breathe," Joseph reminded me. "I won't let anyone hurt you, and neither will Nathan."

The car slowed as we approached a heavily guarded gate. Several men with guns stood alert, their expressions hardening when they spotted me in the passenger seat.

"Open it," Joseph commanded, his voice suddenly cold and authoritative.

One of the guards leaned down, peering through the window with a smirk. "Looks like you finally did something right."

Joseph remained silent as the gates swung open. As we drove through, he whispered, "I'm sorry," so quietly I almost missed it.

My eyes widened as Antonio's mansion came into view. It was imposing, with its stone facade and multiple security cameras. And there, standing in front of the entrance, was Antonio Moretti himself.

Even from a distance, I could feel the chill of his gaze. He stood perfectly still, his presence radiating a terrifying power that made me shrink back in my seat.

"Breathe," Joseph reminded me again as he parked the car.

When the door opened, Joseph pulled me out roughly—all for show, I reminded myself. His grip on my arm was firm but not painful as he dragged me toward his father.

Antonio's cold eyes assessed me clinically. "Let me see her," he demanded, grabbing my chin with surprising strength.

I could only make muffled sounds behind the tape as his fingers dug into my skin.

"Yes, you should be afraid," he said, his Italian accent thick with malice. His hand moved to my stomach, and I fought the urge to recoil as his cold palm pressed against my baby bump.

I forced myself to relax, to not show the revulsion crawling over my skin at his touch.

"My wife was pregnant too when she burned alive," Antonio said casually. "Interesting, isn't it?"

I shuddered, unable to hide my horror.

Antonio turned toward the house. "Bring her inside."

Joseph pulled me along, following his father into the mansion and down a staircase to what appeared to be a basement. The room was sparsely furnished—just a few chairs, a table, and some ominous items I didn't want to think about.

"Everyone out," Antonio ordered his men, who immediately filed out of the room. His overconfidence was exactly what Nathan had anticipated.

"Tie her to the chair," Antonio instructed Joseph.

"She's not going anywhere," Joseph argued. "There's no need—"

"A Donovan is still a Donovan," Antonio cut him off. "Tie her up."

Joseph reluctantly united my hands only to secure me to the chair by my ankles. The relief of having my hands free was minimal compared to the fear of what was coming next.

Antonio pulled up a chair directly in front of me, sitting so close our knees almost touched. "Do you know why you're here, Lily?"

I managed a terrified nod.

"You're here because your parents lied to me," he said with chilling calm. "You're here because I will not allow you to give birth to this disgusting mixed-blood baby. You're here because the Sullivan and Donovan families took what mattered most to me!"

He leaned back slightly, his eyes never leaving mine. "Twenty-one years ago, there was a fire. A fire that happened under my orders, but your father's men and Sullivan's men were careless. My pregnant wife and son were trapped inside the house."

I tried to remain still, even as my heart raced with fear.

"I made everyone responsible pay with their lives," Antonio continued, "but it wasn't fair. Nothing could bring back my family." His fingers tapped rhythmically on the armrest. "So I demanded something in return. I demanded the Sullivan and Donovan families give me a child—to feel what true loss is like. And they gave me your brother, Tyler."

My eyes widened at this revelation.

"My late brother gave him that name," Antonio said with a grimace. "My brother took care of him. Too well, I think—that's why I had to kill my own brother."

I felt sick at his casual admission of fratricide.

"I tried to raise Tyler as a replacement for my pain," Antonio continued. "But it didn't work. Every time I looked at him, all I saw was a Donovan, never a Moretti. I had to keep him alive, but I made sure he suffered."

My blood ran cold at the hatred in his voice.

"I almost forgot about the deal," Antonio said, standing up to pace the room. "I killed my second wife when she discovered Tyler and planned to return him to the Donovans. I was ready to move on, until I found out you were still alive."

He stopped pacing to look at me. "If I had known there were two babies, I would have taken you both. When I heard you were pregnant, carrying a child that mixed the blood of the two families I despise most..." His face contorted with disgust. "I couldn't allow it."

Antonio approached me again, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Did you know I personally asked to raise Nathan? Richard refused. He paid me a fortune to ensure his son wouldn't be harmed."

My world seemed to stop spinning. Richard's protectiveness toward me wasn't because he liked me—it was guilt. All of it had been guilt.

But it didn't matter anymore. Richard, my parents—they had sent me away to give me a better life. Their intentions had been good, even if their methods were questionable.

"I have your brother Tyler," Antonio said, breaking into my thoughts. "He'll be brought here shortly. I hope Richard and Sean will be here too, to watch the show."

He smiled, revealing teeth that seemed too perfect, too white. "I plan to tell them about Tyler before I kill you. A little surprise to make the show more interesting."

Antonio reached forward and ripped the tape from my mouth. The sudden pain made me gasp.

"You're disgusting," I blurted out before I could stop myself.

"You have a big mouth," he replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Killing me and my baby won't make anything better," I said, my voice shaking. "Your wife and son are dead. I'm truly sorry, but this won't bring them back—they're gone."

Behind Antonio, Joseph was shaking his head frantically, silently begging me to stop.

Antonio's hand shot out and grabbed my throat. "They're gone?" he repeated, his fingers tightening. "They're gone?"

Just when I thought he might strangle me, he released his grip and stepped back. A smile spread across his face as he patted Joseph's shoulder. "Looks like Nathan found his match."

He walked to a corner of the room, putting on latex gloves and bringing over a bucket of water. My heart sank.

"Dad, what are you doing?" Joseph asked, concern evident in his voice, though he didn't dare intervene.

"I'll give you a choice," Antonio said to me. "Should I cut the baby out now, or wash your mouth with soap?"

Tears sprang to my eyes. "I'm sorry," I sobbed. "Water, please. Don't hurt the baby."

Antonio grabbed the back of my head and forced it into the bucket. I tried desperately to hold my breath as water filled my nose and mouth. Panic set in as my lungs burned for air.

When his hand moved to my stomach, I thrashed wildly, terrified not for myself but for my baby.

"Dad, stop!" Joseph shouted, pulling me back from the water.

I coughed violently, water spewing from my mouth as I gasped for air. Joseph gently pushed my wet hair from my face.

Antonio seized Joseph by the throat. "Tell me why you care?" he growled. "I told you what would happen if you played games! I know you don't care about your own life, but I believe you care about your brother's."

As I caught my breath, I placed a hand on my stomach, relieved to feel a small kick. Despite everything, I was grateful that everyone else was safe—this was the sacrifice Nathan had expected me to make.

"I just want her to suffer with Tyler," Joseph told his father. "What's the point of doing it now?"

Antonio seemed satisfied with this explanation, too confident in his control over Joseph to suspect his son was no longer his puppet.

He approached me again. "So, where's that big mouth now?"

I remained silent, watching him warily.

"In exactly four hours," Antonio announced, "I will have your brother brought here. I expect everyone to be present so we can all watch the show."

His smile turned cruel. "A show that will include you, your brother, and your baby's head on a spike."

I flinched at his graphic description.

"I will recreate the fire from twenty-one years ago," Antonio said with disturbing excitement. "And everyone will watch."