My Mafia Husband Shared Our Sex Tape For A Bet So I Found A Deadlier Don Chapter 07
The Unraveling of the Rat
Lorenzo found my hospital room empty.
The bed was stripped. The monitors were off. The nurse was folding the last sheet when he burst through the door.
“Where is she?”
The nurse startled. “Ms. Moretti discharged herself this morning, Mr. Rossi.”
His face went white. “She wasn’t cleared—she lost too much blood—who authorized—”
“She insisted. We couldn’t hold her.”
Lorenzo grabbed the doorframe. His knuckles went white.
The doctor appeared behind him, clipboard in hand, looking uncomfortable.
“Mr. Rossi, there’s something you should know. The day Ms. Moretti woke up, I came to deliver her test results. She was pregnant. Four weeks along.”
Lorenzo’s entire body went still. His lips parted but no sound came out.
The doctor continued. “I tried to tell you both, but you left before I could finish. The baby was at risk because she lost so much blood. I wanted to give her medicine to help—”
“Where is she now?” Lorenzo’s voice cracked. “Where did she go? I need to—the baby—I need to take care of her—”
The doctor looked at the floor.
“Mr. Rossi. Ms. Moretti refused the treatment. She asked me to schedule an abortion that same afternoon.”
Lorenzo stopped breathing.
“She had the surgery alone. She had already lost too much blood. After the surgery, we almost lost her. She spent three days recovering here. No visitors. Then she left.”
Lorenzo staggered backward. His shoulder hit the wall. He slid down it until he was crouching, hands over his face.
Their baby. The baby they’d tried for years to have. Finally here—and she’d killed it rather than let it carry his blood.
He did this.
He’d cut three wounds into her arm while their baby was inside her.
Lorenzo slammed his fist into the tile floor. Once. Twice. Until his knuckles split and blood smeared the white surface.
“Sir—Mr. Rossi—”
He was already running.
Down the corridor. Through the lobby. Straight into his mother.
The Senior Donna stood at the hospital entrance with two guards beside her. Her face showed nothing. She looked at her son like she didn’t recognize him.
“Mom? What are you doing here—”
She slapped him so hard his head snapped sideways.
The slap echoed through the lobby.
“Five years old.” Her voice was quiet. Lethal. “You were five when your father’s affair destroyed our family. You watched me cry myself to sleep for a year. You swore you’d never become him.”
Lorenzo pressed his hand to his cheek. “Mom, I didn’t—it’s not what you think—”
“I have eyes, Lorenzo.” She held up her phone. A file. Pages and pages of evidence. “Bianca sent me everything.”
His stomach dropped.
“Mia’s real name is not Mia. Rich men have paid for her since college. Three of them kept her before your half-brother hired her. Franco sent her into your office to steal our contracts and break your marriage.”
Lorenzo went still.
“Every fight. Every accusation. Every bruise on her face—she did it to herself, Lorenzo. The security video from your own home shows her grabbing Bianca’s hand and hitting herself. Her ‘suicide attempt’ was staged. She barely broke skin. She bought blood packs and bribed the medical staff.”
The Senior Donna stepped closer. Her eyes burned.
“And you—my son—you believed every word. You held that girl while she lied to your face. You carved three wounds into your pregnant wife’s arm for a woman who was laughing about it on the phone an hour later.”
Lorenzo couldn’t speak. His throat had closed completely.
His mother’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“Bianca is gone. She took the divorce decree. She’s not coming back.”
“No.” The word ripped out of him. “No—I’ll find her—I’ll explain—”
“You’ll explain what?” The Donna’s eyes were hard. “That you’re sorry? That you didn’t mean to? She left you a message, Lorenzo. Go home and read it.”
She turned and walked away without looking back.
Lorenzo drove home too fast, barely seeing the road through his tears.
He knew—he *knew*—even before he opened the front door.
The house was empty.
And there, on the shoe rack by the entrance—right where he’d see it the second he walked in—sat two items.
A stamped divorce decree. Final. Done.
And beneath it, a single sheet of paper.
He picked it up with shaking hands.
*Consent Form for Termination of Pregnancy.*
*Patient: Bianca Moretti.*
*Pregnancy: 4 weeks.*
*Signature: Bianca Moretti.*
Lorenzo’s knees gave out.
He hit the marble floor. The paper crumpled in his fist. His mouth opened, and a broken scream tore out of him.
“BIANCA!”
No one answered.
—