Chapter 8

Olivia's POV

Damn it. He must have guessed.

No, I absolutely couldn'tlet him find out  I was pregnant.

I instinctively tightened my core, as if that could somehow hide the truth from his piercing gaze.

Forcing a smile, I feigned a casual air. "You must be baby-crazy. What next check-up? Did you think I'm pregnant and heading to an OB-GYN appointment?"

Ethan looked genuinely surprised. The hard line of his brow softened, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. "The IVF failed. Aren't you supposed to continue the treatments?"

"I've already canceled them."

Judging by the look on his face, he bought it. The fool.

To really sell it, I wrenched my arm from his grasp and squared my shoulders, striding past him with an icy tone. "I am not your personal incubator. Besides, I'm with Damien now. Why on earth would I still be trying to have your baby?"

"Olivia! Don't push me! You should be grateful I'm willing to forgive your betrayal. Now you will do as I say!"

Ethan's face contorted with rage. He immediately reached for his phone, ready to call that doctor.

I lowered my voice, a sharp warning lacing every word. "I should remind you, that doctor has already been advised. If you're not afraid of Damien coming after you, go ahead. Make the call."

The Costello family name. The ultimate shield. The moment he heard Damien was involved, Ethan reluctantly lowered his phone.

He was silent for a moment. Just as I was about to walk away, he grabbed my arm again. His tone shifted, becoming deliberately soft, a cloying, manipulative tenderness I knew all too well. "Even if it's not for the baby, you should get yourself checked out. I heard IVF can be hard on the body. I'm worried about you."

Did he think that fake gentleness could still control me, just like it used to?

Did he think I couldn't see right through him? He'd only switched tactics because his usual commands weren't working.

My first instinct was to refuse outright, but considering I hadn't fully escaped this family's clutches yet, I had to play along. "Fine," I conceded, "but I'll choose the hospital and the doctor myself."

That would buy me some time, at least.

Ethan, seemingly afraid I'd back out, agreed instantly. He stepped closer, pulling me into his arms and whispering against my ear, "Olivia, my love, as long as you stay by my side, I can forgive you for anything."

Was that his way of telling me he didn't mind my relationship with Damien?

"How generous of you," I said, pushing myself out of his embrace. I jutted my chin toward the woman hovering behind him. "Too bad I can't forgive a cheating husband."

Ethan thought I wasn't pregnant and was desperate for me to keep trying. Good. I could use that to stall.

"You want me to continue the IVF?" I shoved him lightly toward Sophia. "Fine. Clean up your messes first."

With that, I turned and walked away. Ethan was sharp; he'd figure out I was lying soon enough. My time was running out.

I had just hung up with my lawyer when a call came through.

The Costello family's numbers were unmistakable, part of an exclusive block.

"Mr. Costello."

A low chuckle came through the line. The sound was cool and detached, yet laced with a lethal magnetism. 

Just that brief laugh was probably enough to ensnare countless women. No wonder they lined up to be his. Beyond the Costello fortune and power, Damien himself possessed an irresistible, dangerous charm.

"Are you free? We need to meet."

I had no reason to refuse.

"I'll have someone pick you up."

The ride over was pure anxiety. I didn't know Damien's style, but I knew one thing for certain: if he wanted a child, there would be a legion of women eager to volunteer.

What if he planned to get rid of my baby?

A wave of regret for ever getting in his car washed over me. As my mind spiraled, the driver glanced back. "Ms. Spencer, we're here."

It was too late to turn back now. I had to face him.

Stepping into the villa, I saw him immediately, seated on a sprawling sofa.

A nearly spent cigarette was pinched between his fingers. The acrid smoke hit the back of my throat, making it tighten, and I almost coughed right in front of him.

I couldn't stop myself. "Mr. Costello, I'm pregnant."

Damien seemed to snap back to the present, offering a perfunctory smile. "My apologies. I almost forgot."

He beckoned me over. I walked to him obediently and sat down beside him.

My focus had been so entirely on him that I'd only just now noticed the other figures in the room, several women in white lab coats, holding various medical instruments. They looked unnervingly professional.

A cold dread seized me. I spoke before he could. "Mr. Costello, I know you're not short on potential heirs. If you're willing to acknowledge this child, that's wonderful. If not, I'll raise him myself. I'll never cause you any trouble."

My hands flew to my stomach, a protective shield. My voice was firm. "But if you try to harm him, you'll have to kill me first."

I saw something flicker in his eyes. Was it admiration? Curiosity?

Why would he look at me like that?

Before I could process it, Damien stood up, taking my hand and nodding to his people. They pushed open a heavy, closed door nearby.

When I saw the equipment inside the room, my breath hitched. "This is…"

"My private clinic," he said. "I can't just take your word for it. I need to see for myself."

"I'm not lying! If you don't believe me, then just let me go. You can pretend this never happened!"

Damien pressed his cheek against mine, his tone so gentle it was almost suffocating, yet there was a hint of cruelty in it. "The moment you decided to tell me, this baby's fate was no longer yours to decide. But first, let's see if you're telling the truth."

His hand rested on my shoulder. The pressure was light, but my entire body went rigid as stone.

I should have known he wouldn't keep this child.

But now, I had no choice but to cooperate.

"I need to sign a medical consent form," I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. "If my child is harmed in any way during this examination, you will be held fully responsible."

Damien's expression turned to ice. "You're in no position to make demands." He tossed a set of scrubs at me. "Don't make me repeat myself."

I followed the doctor into the makeshift operating room, my heart pounding with terror.

Damien was an infamous mafia godfather. Although I was willing to believe that he would not lay a hand on a woman who was completely defenseless, that did not mean he was trustworthy.

The amniocentesis was far more painful than I'd imagined.

Cold sweat soaked through my clothes, clinging to my skin. A wave of nausea rolled through my stomach, and I gagged, bile rising in my throat.

Twenty minutes later, they finally had the sample.

I was led back to Damien's side to wait for the results.

Sitting on pins and needles, I risked a glance at him.

His face was a blank mask. I couldn't see a trace of paternal joy in his eyes.

The hope I'd been clinging to plummeted. Her vision blurred with unshed tears, and my body began to tremble uncontrollably.

"Mr. Costello," I took a deep breath, struggling to sound normal, "are you really going to get rid of him?"

Damien stubbed out his cigarette, a wry, humorless smile playing on his lips. "Children were never part of my plan."

My defenses shot up. I was about to plead with him, to beg him to spare my child, when the door to the clinic room swung open. A doctor hurried over to Damien, a report in her hand. "Mr. Costello, the results are in. It's not good news."