Chapter 6: Chapter Six

Elena's POV

"I suggest you put that energy into carrying that baby to term."

My breath seized. My entire body froze as I took in Dante's words.

Baby? What baby?

My heart slammed against my ribs as I waited for him to say it was a cruel joke, a twisted attempt to torment me but his voice never came. He was serious. No. No. This can't be happening.

"What baby?" I whispered, dread curling inside me.

Dante turned slightly, but he didn't say anything, instead he avoided my gaze.

"Dante!" My voice rising in frustration. This had better not be what I'm thinking about. "What the hell are you talking about?"

He finally locked his gaze with mine. "You're six weeks pregnant, Elena."

It was exactly what I was thinking about. The air disappeared from my throat.

Pregnant.

A baby.

Marcus's baby.

No.....this wasn't supposed to happen. I pressed my hand against my stomach, my body trembling. I never planned for this. I had been careful the whole time we were together. So careful.....how could this have happened?

It already enough that my life had fallen apart—my father disowned me, my ex-finance betrayed me and my supposed husband had made it clear that this was no marriage. He had married me for the sake of breaking me, punishing me for a sin he had refused to tell me about.

I swallowed hard, hot tears streaming down my face. I hated how much I had trusted Dante. I hate how much I had stupidly believed in him. I could've dealt with him alone, but now, a child was involved. How would I survive the cruelty of this world?

Dante stood watching me like he was unmoved by my little drama. I raised my head, glaring. "Get out."

He arched a brow, entirely unfazed. "Excuse me."

"I said get out," my voice breaking from the weight of my tears. "I don't want to see you! I don't want to hear your voice. Get the hell out of here."

He stood there, unmoving for a while, before he spoke. "You're my wife , Elena. You belong to me, at my mercy. And not that child can break us."

I wanted to snap, to scream at this bastard but I couldn't. My throat tightened, a dull persistent ache throbbed in my skull and eyes were blurry from the tears.

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat as he straightened, shoving his hands in his pockets like none of this mattered to him. He walked out of the room without another word. The moment the door shut behind him, silent sobs wracked my body.

I had thought I was miserable, but with this child, it was on an entirely new level of hell. For the rest of the day, I didn't move out of bed. No one came visiting either. Realisation then dawn on me that I really am alone now. No family. No friends. No husband—just a man who had an agenda to destroy me.

Several unanswered questions ran through my mind as I finally forced myself out of the bed, pacing the cold room. It sent chills through my body, but that doesn't matter.

Maybe I should have married Marcus after all. Marcus was better than Dante—at least, he didn't lie to me. And the child would have had someone to call 'father'.

I needed to do something. Marcus should know about this child and then I can decide if I want to keep it or not. Yes, that sounds like a plan. Tomorrow, when I'm discharged from this wretched hospital, I will make sure to go see Marcus and tell him about everything.

My gaze landed on the wedding dress draped over a single couch, and a mix of irritation and anger surge through me. Today was supposed to be the happiest day of my life for crying out loud, but it turns out to be my worst nightmare.

Since childhood , I had dreamed of this day more than anyone else. I had imagined love, laughter, and a future filled with happiness. But now? Now, I should have been in Santorini, wrapped in bliss, celebrating my honeymoon.

Instead, I was here. Broken. Alone. Drowning in regrets.

Would Marcus even listen to me? His cold, angry expression from earlier flashed in my mind, and dread curled in my gut.

I had no choice. I had to try.

"You should get some rest now, Mrs. Moretti," a voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I turned back and saw a nurse stepping inside the room. Moretti. Irritation curled up inside me. I hated that name with everything inside me. "It's already late," she added.

I forced a smile at her, walking back towards the bed. I sat on the edge. She scanned the file in her hand for a while, before dropping it on the side table and then checked my vitals.

"Your baby is really doing well, Mrs. Moretti." Moretti again? I exhaled shakily, trying to keep my anger in check. She was unaware of the turmoil inside me and I shouldn't pass my aggression on the innocent lady who was simply doing her job.

"Elena is fine," I corrected her calmly.

She hesitated, her gaze flicking with surprise. "O-okay." She wrote down something on the file. "Good night, Mrs.....," she drawled, and then quickly corrected herself, "Elena."

"Good night," I replied quietly.

She turned to leave but before she could take a step, my hand reached out and grabbed her wrist. Maybe I wasn't thinking or something, but my mouth acted faster than my mind. "Do you do abortions here?"

Her eyes widened in shock and disbelief. For a moment, she just stared at me like she had just seen a reincarnated ghost. But before she could respond, I let go of her wrist, shaking my head.

"Never mind. Forget I asked."

She lingered for a second as if she wanted to say something, but she didn't—she just silently exited the room. As soon as she was gone, I buried my face in my hands.

"Elena, what were you thinking?" I murmured, scolding myself.

But the truth was, I wasn't thinking at all.

Despite the turmoil inside me, exhaustion crept into my bone and I eventually drifted to sleep.

I yanked my eyes open the next morning and the first thought that crept into my mind was how I can meet with Marcus. Before I could decide the best way to go about it, the door swung open and Dante strolled in, his presence filling the room with suffocating authority.

But I didn't cower. Instead, I rolled my eyes ignoring him completely.

"Good morning, wifey," he drawled, his voice laced with mockery.

Wifey, my foot. I didn't respond—he doesn't deserve it. I didn't look at him either.

Unbothered, he stepped closer. "You've been discharged. It's time to go home."

I hesitated, my fingers curling into the blanket. My chest tightening. Home? Would he start breaking me right away? Fear crept in.

It doesn't matter if he breaks or destroy me, I have something more important to do first. For the first time since he entered the room, I locked my gaze with his, whispering, "I want to see Marcus."