He Chose His Bastard Over Our Baby - Chapter 14: Chapter 14

Isabella was done for.
Her name dragged through the mud, her reputation in ruins. Every tabloid, every news headline, every hushed conversation in the underworld mocked her betrayal, her spectacular fall from grace.
Lorenzo had made damn sure of that.
He'd tossed her out like yesterday's trash without even letting her say goodbye to the life she'd known. Her screams, her tears, her desperate pleas—none of it moved him.
But as the guards dumped her onto the pavement—broken, humiliated—she lifted her tear-streaked face and hurled the only weapon she had left: the truth.
"That bitch is playing you," Isabella spat, her voice cracking. "Victoria Moretti? She doesn't exist. She's Valeria. Valeria De Luca. Your dead ex-wife!"
Lorenzo froze.
From my hidden perch in the estate's upper halls, I watched his entire body lock up.
The silence that followed was deafening. His fingers twitched at his sides.
Then, without a word, he turned on his heel and walked away.
Straight to his office.
Straight to the whiskey.
He hired investigators to dig into me that same night.
I let him.
I didn't cover my tracks. I wanted him to know.
And when the truth finally hit him—when Valeria De Luca stared back from every file, every report, every document he'd never bothered to verify—he snapped.
The glass shattered before I even saw him move.
My penthouse door burst open, and suddenly Lorenzo was there, tearing through my home like a hurricane.
A Ming vase exploded against the wall. An antique chair splintered under his boot. My prized wine collection crashed to the floor in a river of crimson and broken glass.
He Let Our Daughter Die for His Ex's Child!
Then—
His hands were on me.
He slammed me against the wall, his grip brutal, his breath reeking of whiskey and fury.
"You played me." His voice was rough, his dark eyes burning with rage. "You used me. Manipulated me. Lied to my face."
I smirked. "Guilty as charged."
His fingers tightened around my throat—just enough to make me gasp. Just enough to show he was hanging by a thread.
"Why?" The word came out low, dangerous, desperate.
I leaned in until my lips barely brushed his. "Because I wanted to watch you burn."
His entire body went rigid.
Then—
His grip faltered.
His breathing turned ragged, his forehead dropping against mine, his hands shaking where they touched me.
The rage transformed into something else. Something twisted. Something obsessive.
He didn't want me dead.
He wanted to possess me.
"You're driving me insane," he growled, voice raw. "You make me want to tear the whole goddamn world apart."
I laughed softly. "And yet here you are. Still craving me."
His hands slid down to my waist, pulling me flush against him, his need undeniable.
I shoved him back—hard.
He staggered, chest heaving, eyes wild.
I cocked my head, watching him with icy amusement. "Pathetic."
Something in him fractured. His jaw clenched, fists tightening. But he didn't come at me. Didn't strike back.
Instead, he dropped to his knees.
I went still.
His hands gripped my hips, his forehead pressing against my stomach as he whispered, "I love you."
My fingers tightened around my glass.
His voice broke. "When I got the news you'd died in that fire... my world ended." A sharp inhale. His hold on me turned vise-like, like I might vanish. "Every day since has been empty. Meaningless."
I said nothing.
He looked up, those tortured dark eyes locking onto mine. "I missed you, Valeria. Every goddamn second."
A bitter smile curled my lips. "Funny. You didn't seem to miss me when you replaced me with Isabella."
He flinched. "I didn't know it was you. If I had—"
"If you had," I cut in coldly, "you'd have done the same. Because you're weak, Lorenzo. You don't love me. You love the ghost of me."
"No." His voice shattered. His hands clung to me like I was his last salvation. "I love you. Always have." Trembling fingers traced my waist. "I'm sorry. For not seeing you. For not knowing."
For choosing Isabella. For letting Amara die.
He didn't say it. We both knew.
"I can't undo it," he whispered. "But tell me how to fix this. Tell me how to make you mine again."
I exhaled slowly, setting my glass down. Then—deliberate, calculated—I leaned down, tilting his chin up.
His lips parted, breath uneven as I studied him.
This man—this untouchable mafia king—was on his knees. Begging.
Bleeding.
And still... it wasn't enough.
I leaned closer, my lips grazing his ear as I whispered, "You can't."
He sucked in a sharp breath.
Then, with a soft laugh, I ran my fingers through his hair—one tender stroke—before shoving him away.
He landed hard on the marble, palms scraping the floor.
I straightened, looking down at him with cool detachment. "Pathetic."
His jaw clenched, hands curling into fists. But he didn't move. Just sat there, eyes burning with something between worship and violence.
He'd never let me go.
He'd burn the whole damn underworld down before he did.
"Get away from her, Lorenzo."
Darius.
He stood in the doorway, calm but lethal, his gaze locked on Lorenzo with quiet warning.
Lorenzo didn't budge. Didn't release me.
Darius sighed. "I warned you before. Valeria's under my protection."
Lorenzo's jaw tightened, possessiveness flashing in his eyes. "She doesn't belong to anyone."
Darius stepped forward. "Then back the hell off."
Lorenzo laughed—dark, humorless.
Then he stood, his entire demeanor shifting. The desperation vanished. The guilt disappeared.
Only obsession remained.
"Make me," he challenged, voice dripping with venom.
Darius exhaled slowly, fingers twitching toward his gun. "You really want to do this?"
Lorenzo smirked, unhinged. "Already have."
And just like that—
The underworld erupted in flames.