The Don Who Called Me Dirty, Begged Me Back Later Chapter 03
His gaze drifted to Bianca’s stomach. His expression turned complicated. “She might be pregnant.”
The private hospital in the city center. The smell of disinfectant filled the OB-GYN corridor.
I knew that smell too well.
Three years ago, Salvatore made me come here for eight gynecological exams. I still remember the humiliation of lying on that cold examination table, the instruments probing my body.
I sat on the waiting area bench, staring at the electronic call board.
“Bianca Moretti, please proceed to Examination Room Three.”
The nurse’s voice echoed down the hall.
Bianca stood up and handed me her designer handbag. “Donna, hold this for me.”
She looked down at me, a mocking smile tugging at her lips. “Sal said you know this place better than anyone. That is why I asked him to have you bring me here.”
I did not take her bag. She was not bothered. She tossed it onto the chair and leaned in close to my ear. “Honestly, I cannot blame Sal. Given your situation, any man would hold it against you.”
“High school gym class injury? Even I would not buy that excuse, much less him.”
She laughed softly, turned, and walked into the examination room. I sat alone on the bench, hands folded on my knees, fingertips ice-cold.
Half an hour later, Bianca walked out with the report. Triumph was written all over her face.
The nurse followed behind and glanced at me. “Family member? Go to the first floor and pay for the exam. The father did not come today?”
Before I could speak, Bianca already had her phone out.
She dialed Salvatore right in front of me. Deliberately put it on speaker.
“Sal, the results are out.” Her voice was syrupy sweet, tinged with grievance.
On the other end, Salvatore’s voice was low but tense. “What does it say?”
“The doctor says… six weeks.”
Salvatore’s breath caught.
After a long moment, he said softly, “If you are pregnant, keep it. Do not be afraid. I will take responsibility.”
I sat beside her, my heart aching with a pain that cut through bone.
Three years ago, I tried to explain. All I got was his cold scrutiny and endless humiliation. After our wedding night, Salvatore never touched me again. I never got to be a mother. But another woman got it so easily.
Bianca hung up and looked at me. “Donna, did you hear that? Your Don says he will take responsibility for me.”
I stood up and picked up my handbag. “Congratulations.”
Today was supposed to be our third wedding anniversary.
In my bag was the gift I had not had time to give him last night. A pair of limited-edition obsidian cufflinks he had been searching for.
My phone buzzed. A message from Salvatore.
“Book a restaurant with light food for tonight. Bianca cannot eat anything too heavy. I will head there straight after my meeting.”
I stared at the screen for a long time.
Then I replied with one word. “Fine.”
At seven that evening, I pushed open the door to the Cloudtop Restaurant private room, holding the freshly printed divorce papers.
The atmosphere inside was warm and cheerful.
Salvatore, Bianca, and Salvatore’s mother, Mrs. DeLuca, were already seated.
Salvatore looked up at me and frowned, as if annoyed that I was late. “My mother is here. Do not ruin the evening.” His voice was low, a warning. As if I were the outsider spoiling the mood.