The Runaway Mafia Queen

Serafina's POV

I used to be so sick of the mafia's endless bloodshed. So, when I met Cassian, I hid my real name and willingly played the role of his sweet, obedient girl.

But three years of devotion only bought me a gut-wrenching betrayal.

When I was eight months pregnant, he tossed me into the dungeon like trash, all so he could marry a mafia heiress. To ensure his new fiancé’s child inherited the empire, he ordered his men to inject me with labor-delaying drugs.

They suffocated my baby inside me.

"You're just an orphan, only fit to be a mistress," he mocked, looking down at me. That single sneer shattered my last shred of hope for a normal life.

Lying in a pool of my own blood, I stopped fighting and let out a cold laugh.

Cassian, you stepped on my baby's life to climb to the power you crave. I hope to God you don't regret this. Because the woman you just pushed back into the abyss will become your worst, unreachable nightmare.

Three years. Cassian finally promised that after I gave birth, we would get married.

The door to the bridal boutique's fitting room was slightly ajar.

"Cass... gentle. You'll ruin my dress," a woman moaned through the crack.

"The dress can wait. I’m far more eager to unravel every inch of you."

My blood froze.

Through that damn gap, I saw it clearly: Cassian gripping a woman’s waist, their bodies entwined frantically in front of a massive floor-to-length mirror.

My stomach churned. I stumbled backward, my heel catching on the thick carpet.

I hit the floor hard. A sharp, tearing pain ripped through my lower abdomen, and the world went black.

When I woke up, the smell of antiseptic made me cough.

"Rina? Thank God, you're awake."

Warm hands enveloped mine. Cassian sat by the bed, his olive-toned face etched with anxiety, his amber eyes filled with deep affection. If I hadn't witnessed his repulsive affair just hours ago, I would have drowned in his tenderness again.

"The doctor said you just slipped outside the boutique. The baby is fine." He sighed, brushing the hair from my forehead with a hint of reproach. "Rina, how many times have I told you to stop with these unrealistic fantasies? Why do you keep sneaking off to bridal shops?"

"Unrealistic?" I glared at him, my voice like sandpaper. "You said you'd marry me, Cass. It’s been three years!"

His hand froze in midair.

Slowly, he pulled back. The warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by a condescending chill.

"Since you brought it up, Rina, let's make things clear today." He stood, towering over me. "I'm getting married next month. To Valentina Marchetti."

It felt like a knife was twisted into my heart.

"You're... marrying her?"

"Listen, I love you. That hasn't changed," he said, cruel in his calmness. "But I'm not just the CEO of the Ferrante Group; I'm the sole heir to the Ferrante Mafia family. Valentina is a Marchetti. Only a woman with her pedigree is fit to be the future Donna. And you... you’re just an orphan with nothing."

I laughed out of pure fury, though tears streamed down my face.

"Then what were these three years? What about the baby in my belly? What am I to you?!"

"You can stay by my side." He sat back down and reached for me, but I flinched away like he was a plague. He frowned in annoyance. "Stop throwing a tantrum. As long as you don't provoke Valentina or make a scene, I'll give you everything you want. Aside from the title of Mrs. Ferrante, you'll lack nothing."

"A mistress." I gritted my teeth, my hands wrapping protectively around my swollen belly. "You want me to be your mistress."

Despair and defiance clashed in my chest. Taking a deep breath, I looked at him with red eyes, making one last attempt.

"Cassian, what if I told you my family is larger and more powerful than the Marchettis? Would you still marry her?"

He paused for a second before bursting into laughter. Pure mockery.

"Save it, Rina." He looked at me with pity, like I was insane. "There are no 'what ifs' in the real world. Stop making up pathetic lies to keep me. I know exactly what your background is. Don't embarrass yourself."

"I'm not lying!" I grabbed his sleeve, swallowing the immense pride of the Volkov heir, sobbing uncontrollably. "Cass, please, don't marry her... for the baby's sake..."

"Stop fighting it." He yanked his arm away, the force throwing me back into the pillows. "Not even for the baby. Valentina is pregnant too. Seven months."

I was eight months; she was seven.

That meant he’d been sleeping in her bed since the very first month of my pregnancy.

Cassian took out a silk handkerchief and gently wiped my tears.

"I promise I won't abandon you after the wedding," he said, caressing my cheek. "Just behave. Wait for me at home like you always do, and we can still be happy."

"Don't touch me!"

I slapped his hand away hysterically, shrinking back. "You make me sick! Cassian, I will never be your mistress. I'm taking my baby and leaving, and you will never see us again!"

His face darkened instantly.

"You think you have the right to throw a fit right now?" He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. "I gave you the decent option, and you refused."

"What are you doing? Let me go!" I thrashed, but my heavy, late-stage pregnant body left me helpless.

"At a crucial time like this, I will not let anyone ruin my alliance with the Marchettis."

He let go of me and called out coldly to the door.

"Guards."

Two massive men in black suits walked in.

"Lock her in the basement dungeon."