She Was Forced to Marry a Mafia Boss Who Could Never Have Children, Then Her Morning Sickness Put a Target on Her Back

Dante followed her immediately, shoving past two capos without a second glance.

"Clear the hallway," Matteo barked behind him, stepping into the corridor to ensure no one followed the boss and his wife.

Inside the luxurious marble restroom, Clara was on her knees in front of a private stall, violently throwing up into the porcelain bowl. She felt hot, dizzy, and utterly exhausted, her body shaking with intense spasms.

Dante burst into the room, dropping to his knees beside her on the cold tile floor. He pulled her long dark hair back over her shoulder with one hand, his other hand rubbing her back in steady, soothing circles.

"Clara," he whispered, his deep voice laced with raw panic. "Talk to me. What’s wrong? Was it poisoned? Did someone put something in your drink?"

Clara finished retching, leaning her forehead against her arm, gasping for air. "No... no, I didn't drink anything except sparkling water... the smell of the food... it just hit me..."

Dante grabbed a damp linen cloth from the counter and gently wiped her sweat-drenched face, his eyes dark with worry. "We’re going home. Right now. I'm calling the personal doctor."

He lifted her effortlessly into his arms, carrying her out of the restroom like a bride.

As they emerged back into the grand hallway, several high-ranking family members were gathered near the entrance, including Aunt Sofia—Dante’s late father’s sister, a sharp-tongued matriarch who had opposed Dante’s marriage from day one.

Aunt Sofia took one look at Clara’s pale face, the damp cloth Dante was holding against her neck, and the way Clara was clutching her stomach.

Sofia’s eyes widened in sudden, horrifying realization.

"She’s sick?" Sofia asked, her voice carrying through the quiet hallway. "Morning sickness? At nine o'clock at night?"

The hallway fell dead silent.

Dante glared at his aunt with lethal fury. "Get out of my way, Sofia."

"Dante," Sofia stepped closer, her voice dropping into a sharp, venomous whisper that echoed off the marble walls. "Everyone knows you cannot have children. You were shot seven years ago. The doctors certified it!"

Dante froze, his body turning to ice.

Sofia turned her glaring eyes directly onto Clara. "If she is pregnant... she is carrying a bastard! She has betrayed the Rosetti family!"

A collective gasp went through the crowd of lieutenants standing near the archway.

Clara looked at the shocked, suspicious faces of Dante’s men. She looked at her father, who was staring at her with wide, terrified eyes.

And then she looked at Dante.

Dante’s jaw was set like iron. His eyes were dark, unreadable, and terrifyingly cold.

"Matteo," Dante said quietly, his voice dangerously calm.