Chapter 3 - The Price of the Ring
The morning sun cast pale, golden shards through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the master bedroom, illuminating racks of designer maternity wear and tailored cashmere sweaters brought in by high-end stylists who didn't dare ask questions. A personal chef prepared meals packed with folate and iron under the watchful gaze of armed bodyguards positioned outside the French doors.
I sat on the velvet chaise, clutching the ultrasound picture that had started this entire nightmare. In the photograph, the shape was barely more than a seed, yet the doctor’s words rang in my mind: Strong. Alive.
A knock rattled the heavy oak door before it swung open. It wasn't Dominic.
An older woman with silver hair pulled into a severe chignon stepped inside, accompanied by two hulking men in tailored suits. Her diamonds could have bought an entire city block, and her eyes were as sharp and unforgiving as broken glass.
Helena Bellano. Dominic’s mother. The matriarch of the family and a woman whose reputation was drenched in ruthless political maneuvering.
"So," Helena began, her voice dripping with refined disdain as she looked around the room before settling on me. "The little mouse from the forty-third floor finally trapped the lion."
I stood up immediately, smoothing down my sweater, refusing to let my posture betray the racing beat of my heart. "Good morning, Mrs. Bellano."
"Spare me the administrative courtesy, Miss Hart," she scoffed, stepping closer and tapping her manicured nails against the gold handle of her walking cane. "You think you’re the first ambitious girl to deliberately forget her birth control around a billionaire? You think carrying a Bellano heir guarantees you a crown?"
Blood rushed to my cheeks, hot and furious. "I didn't plan this. And I certainly didn't trap your son. If Dominic had let me leave yesterday, I would be halfway across the country right now."
Helena let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "And let the Raines syndicate gut you like a fish? You are a liability. A pathetic, middle-class liability who knows nothing about surviving in our world. Dominic is blinded by sentimentality and guilt. But I am not."
She signaled one of the guards, who stepped forward and placed a leather folder on the low table between us.
"Ten million dollars," Helena said, her eyes narrowing into cold slits. "A house in Switzerland. Complete anonymity, fully funded for the rest of your life. You give birth in a private Swiss clinic under my supervision, surrender the child to the Bellano estate, and vanish forever."
The sheer audacity of the offer struck me like a physical blow. The room spun, but the fear that had paralyzed me for weeks suddenly transformed into a white-hot wall of maternal rage.
I looked at the folder, then raised my chin to meet the matriarch’s glare.
"Take your money and get out of this room," I said, my voice steady, clear, and ringing with absolute authority.
Helena’s eyebrows arched in shock. "What did you say to me?"
"You heard me," I stepped forward, closing the distance between us until she was forced to look up slightly. "I carried coffee for four years, Mrs. Bellano. I organized Dominic's schedule while you and your board members tried to undermine him behind his back. I know every contract, every shell company, and every bribe that keeps your diamonds shiny. But more importantly—this child is mine. You will never, ever take my baby from me."
"How brave," a low, amused voice sounded from the doorway.
Dominic stood leaning against the frame, his sleeves rolled up, a dark glint of pure pride in his eyes. He hadn't just arrived; he had been listening.
May you like
"Mother," Dominic said, stepping into the room with a lethal, predatory grace. "I suggest you take your guards and leave my house before I remember that your monthly allowance requires my signature."
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