He Chose His Bastard Over Our Baby - Chapter 10: Chapter 10

Lorenzo De Luca—my once-ruthless husband, the man who'd shoved divorce papers in my face, humiliated me, and discarded me like yesterday's trash—was crawling back.
And the best part? He didn't even realize it yet.
"Victoria." His voice was rougher than usual, thick with something unspoken.
I glanced up from my desk, feigning surprise. "Yes, Mr. De Luca?"
His fingers drummed against the polished wood, frustration tightening his jaw. He'd been dodging me for days—probably trying to convince himself he wasn't obsessed. That I wasn't haunting his thoughts, his dreams, his every damn weakness.
Him.
He exhaled sharply, leaning forward. "Dinner. Tonight."
I arched a brow. "Business or pleasure?"
His gaze darkened. "Does it matter?"
A smirk curled my lips. He was slipping.
I tilted my head, pretending to consider. "I don't date my boss."
His jaw clenched. "You're not just my secretary."
I hummed. "Then what am I, Mr. De Luca?"
For a heartbeat, he hesitated. And there it was—the war inside him. The conflict.
He'd betrayed me. Ruined me. Replaced me.
And yet, here he was, chasing a ghost.
He cleared his throat, standing abruptly. "Seven o'clock. I'll send a car."
I let him walk away, my smirk deepening.
Hook. Line. Sinker.
The private dining room was bathed in candlelight, the air thick with the scent of expensive wine and indulgence. Before me, a lavish bouquet of blood-red roses and an elegantly wrapped Cartier box.
He'd pulled out all the stops.
I swirled my wine glass, lips curving sweetly. "You're spoiling me, Mr. De Luca."
His dark eyes locked onto mine. "You deserve to be spoiled."
The man who'd once tossed me aside was now desperate for my attention. And he had no idea I was playing him.
He leaned in, gaze dropping to my lips. "Do you like the necklace?"
I traced the diamond-studded chain at my collarbone. "It's beautiful."
His smirk was smug. "Only the best for you."
The finest wine. The most exclusive cuisine. The ruthless king of New York's underworld, bending over backward for me.
I'd won.
Then, in the quiet lull of dinner, a familiar voice murmured in my ear. "Careful with your game, Valeria. You might fall for your husband again."
Darius.
I pressed my earpiece, stifling a laugh.
Lorenzo's brows furrowed. "What's funny?"
I shook my head, eyes glinting. "Nothing." I tilted my head, playful. "I like you, boss."
Something primal flickered in his gaze—possessive, hungry. He leaned closer, voice a growl. "Say that again."
My smirk deepened. "I like you, boss."
His grip on his wine glass tightened, satisfaction curling his lips. He was hooked.
Then his phone buzzed.
He ignored it.
Again.
And again.
I sipped my wine, watching irritation flash across his face before he finally answered. "What?"
A broken sob crackled through the line. "L-Lorenzo—I'm bleeding."
His fingers twitched, but his gaze held no panic—just annoyance.
"Call a doctor," he said coldly.
My brows lifted. Ah. So he was done pretending.
Isabella's cries turned desperate. "Lorenzo, please! It's the baby—"
He hung up. Just like that.
I almost laughed.
Instead, I leaned in, brushing my lips against his ear, voice dripping with poison and silk. "Go to your wife, Lorenzo."
His hands gripped the table. "No. It's our date."
I pulled back, eyes teasing. "How devoted," I murmured, sipping my wine.
Then my phone rang.
I didn't need to check the ID. Right on time.
With a slow smirk, I answered. "Darling," I purred.
"Where's my husband?!" Isabella shrieked.
I exhaled dramatically. "Oh, Isabella. He's with me, of course." I glanced at Lorenzo, who watched me with dark fascination. "But don't worry—I'll let him go now."
I leaned in, fingers grazing his jaw, lips a breath from his. "Go," I whispered. "Let's schedule our next dinner, my love."
His eyes burned into mine—obsession warring with something dangerously close to surrender.
As he stood, reluctant yet bound by my words, I smiled.
Checkmate.
An hour later, I slipped into the hospital shadows, watching Lorenzo pace outside Isabella's room. His tie was loose, frustration in every movement.
The doctor emerged, sighing. "She's stable. The baby's fine, but she needs rest. No stress."
Lorenzo rubbed his temples. "Can I see her?"
The doctor nodded.
I smirked as he disappeared inside. What a joke.
Slipping into a stolen nurse's coat, I swiped Isabella's file. My eyes skimmed the report.
No pregnancy. No baby. Just another lie.
I scoffed. Again, Isabella? Predictable.
Then I spotted the signature at the bottom. Ah. She paid off the doctor again.
Pathetic.
Inside the room, Isabella lay curled under the sheets, fluttering her lashes as Lorenzo entered.
"Amore…" she whispered weakly.
He sat beside her, dragging a hand down his face. "You scared me."
She sniffled. "I thought—I thought I lost our baby."
His jaw tightened. "Take care of yourself."
She reached for his hand, voice trembling. "I just need you."
He didn't pull away.
Not yet.
In the corner, little Dante clutched her gown, tears streaming. "Mommy, are you okay?"
What a performance.
Isabella cradled his face, eyes glistening. "Yes, baby, I just got scared."
Dante turned to Lorenzo, lip quivering. "Daddy, don't leave Mommy, okay?"
I nearly rolled my eyes. Even the kid's acting now?
Isabella wiped a tear. "I heard you were on a date."
Lorenzo's face turned to ice. "You don't question me, Isabella."
Her lip trembled. "What am I to you?"
His silence was answer enough.
She let out a broken sob—
Time for my encore.
I pulled out my phone and dialed.