He Chose His Bastard Over Our Baby - Chapter 8: Chapter 8
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The dim glow of my penthouse barely illuminated the cityscape beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. The De Luca empire was already showing cracks—rumors of financial instability spreading through the underworld like wildfire. I'd been patient, watching and waiting. Now it was time to strike.
My fingers traced the edges of the weathered wooden box before lifting the lid. Inside lay the ghosts Lorenzo tried to bury—a tiny pink dress, a one-eyed stuffed bear, and a silver bracelet engraved with "Amara De Luca."
His real heir.
My thumb brushed against the bracelet's engraving as memories flooded back—her infectious laughter, those tiny fingers clinging to mine like I was her whole world. Lorenzo had sworn to protect her. Then he chose another child over her cold, lifeless body.
I took a slow breath, smothering the fire in my chest. This wasn't grief.
This was payback.
After sealing the box, I attached a simple note: "Did you forget her already?" Then summoned a courier.
Lorenzo's office felt like a pressure cooker.
Riccardo paced by the window, his usual cocky swagger gone. "Another shipment intercepted. More investors jumping ship. This isn't bad luck, boss—it's coordinated."
Lorenzo swirled his whiskey, the amber liquid catching the light. "We're being targeted."
"No shit," Riccardo muttered. "Someone's inside our systems. Someone good."
The headlines said it all: "De Luca Empire Crumbling?" A decade of dominance unraveling overnight. The whiskey burned his throat but did nothing to dull the edge. Nothing could.
The boardroom chatter—stocks, damage control, contingency plans—faded into white noise. He couldn't concentrate.
Then his assistant appeared with a plain package. "No return address, sir."
Lorenzo's instincts screamed danger. He never got unchecked deliveries. Peeling back the lid, his world tilted. A child's dress. A stuffed bear. Amara's bracelet.
Riccardo froze mid-step. "Boss?"
Lorenzo couldn't speak. His fingers trembled over the engraved name—a knife twist to the heart. Then he saw the note: "Did you forget her already?"
Ice flooded his veins.
Memories detonated—Amara's laughter echoing through the halls, her small body cradled in Valeria's arms.
Valeria.
His jaw locked, knuckles whitening. This wasn't random. Someone wanted him to remember. To hurt.
The whiskey glass shattered against his desk. "Trace this. Now."
As Riccardo scrambled out, Lorenzo pressed his palms to his temples. Rage warred with something more dangerous—an emotion he refused to name.
Because for the first time in years, he stood on the precipice of something terrifying.
Something beyond his control.
And he fucking despised it.
From my shadowed vantage point, I watched Lorenzo storm out, pale and shaken. The mighty De Luca was coming undone—drinking heavily, losing his grip.
Isabella trailed after him, desperation sharpening her tone. "Lorenzo! Where are you going? You've been distant ever since—" She caught herself too late.
He wheeled on her. "Since what, Isabella?"
Her mouth opened soundlessly.
"Who exactly do you think has been distracting me?" he growled.
She clung to his sleeve. "I just know something's wrong!"
He shook her off violently. "Stay out of my head."
Her flinch was delicious. She senses it. Knows I'm coming. I melted back into darkness, pulse steady, mind clear.
This was just the opening act. Soon, Lorenzo De Luca would lose it all.
Ronan's laughter cut through the engine's roar as we peeled away. "Jesus, Victoria. You don't pull punches, do you?"
I crossed my legs, smirking. "Why would I?"
"So what's phase two?" he asked, shifting gears.
I examined my manicure. "I'll become his secretary. Make him fall for me all over again."
"Your ex-husband?" Ronan's eyebrows shot up.
"Exactly. I'll have him craving me, needing me—until he can't remember why he ever let me go."
Ronan whistled. "And Isabella?"
I leaned back, smiling. "She'll lose her mind watching him choose me. After all her scheming to steal him? Poetic."
"You're gonna burn their world down," he said admiringly.
I met his gaze. "They lit the match first." My voice turned glacial. "What about the doctor?"
"Romano," Ronan supplied. "The quack who certified her bastard as having Amara's condition."
"That lie bought her Lorenzo." My nails dug into the leather seat. "She used my daughter's death to trap him."
Ronan's expression darkened. "What do you want done with him?"
"Everything." The word dripped with venom.
After a beat, Ronan grinned. "Let's wreck them all. First, we bury any trails back to you. Too soon for him to know."
As the city lights blurred past, my blood sang with anticipation.
The game had only just begun.
My fingers traced the edges of the weathered wooden box before lifting the lid. Inside lay the ghosts Lorenzo tried to bury—a tiny pink dress, a one-eyed stuffed bear, and a silver bracelet engraved with "Amara De Luca."
His real heir.
My thumb brushed against the bracelet's engraving as memories flooded back—her infectious laughter, those tiny fingers clinging to mine like I was her whole world. Lorenzo had sworn to protect her. Then he chose another child over her cold, lifeless body.
I took a slow breath, smothering the fire in my chest. This wasn't grief.
This was payback.
After sealing the box, I attached a simple note: "Did you forget her already?" Then summoned a courier.
Lorenzo's office felt like a pressure cooker.
Riccardo paced by the window, his usual cocky swagger gone. "Another shipment intercepted. More investors jumping ship. This isn't bad luck, boss—it's coordinated."
Lorenzo swirled his whiskey, the amber liquid catching the light. "We're being targeted."
"No shit," Riccardo muttered. "Someone's inside our systems. Someone good."
The headlines said it all: "De Luca Empire Crumbling?" A decade of dominance unraveling overnight. The whiskey burned his throat but did nothing to dull the edge. Nothing could.
The boardroom chatter—stocks, damage control, contingency plans—faded into white noise. He couldn't concentrate.
Then his assistant appeared with a plain package. "No return address, sir."
Lorenzo's instincts screamed danger. He never got unchecked deliveries. Peeling back the lid, his world tilted. A child's dress. A stuffed bear. Amara's bracelet.
Riccardo froze mid-step. "Boss?"
Lorenzo couldn't speak. His fingers trembled over the engraved name—a knife twist to the heart. Then he saw the note: "Did you forget her already?"
Ice flooded his veins.
Memories detonated—Amara's laughter echoing through the halls, her small body cradled in Valeria's arms.
Valeria.
His jaw locked, knuckles whitening. This wasn't random. Someone wanted him to remember. To hurt.
The whiskey glass shattered against his desk. "Trace this. Now."
As Riccardo scrambled out, Lorenzo pressed his palms to his temples. Rage warred with something more dangerous—an emotion he refused to name.
Because for the first time in years, he stood on the precipice of something terrifying.
Something beyond his control.
And he fucking despised it.
From my shadowed vantage point, I watched Lorenzo storm out, pale and shaken. The mighty De Luca was coming undone—drinking heavily, losing his grip.
Isabella trailed after him, desperation sharpening her tone. "Lorenzo! Where are you going? You've been distant ever since—" She caught herself too late.
He wheeled on her. "Since what, Isabella?"
Her mouth opened soundlessly.
"Who exactly do you think has been distracting me?" he growled.
She clung to his sleeve. "I just know something's wrong!"
He shook her off violently. "Stay out of my head."
Her flinch was delicious. She senses it. Knows I'm coming. I melted back into darkness, pulse steady, mind clear.
This was just the opening act. Soon, Lorenzo De Luca would lose it all.
Ronan's laughter cut through the engine's roar as we peeled away. "Jesus, Victoria. You don't pull punches, do you?"
I crossed my legs, smirking. "Why would I?"
"So what's phase two?" he asked, shifting gears.
I examined my manicure. "I'll become his secretary. Make him fall for me all over again."
"Your ex-husband?" Ronan's eyebrows shot up.
"Exactly. I'll have him craving me, needing me—until he can't remember why he ever let me go."
Ronan whistled. "And Isabella?"
I leaned back, smiling. "She'll lose her mind watching him choose me. After all her scheming to steal him? Poetic."
"You're gonna burn their world down," he said admiringly.
I met his gaze. "They lit the match first." My voice turned glacial. "What about the doctor?"
"Romano," Ronan supplied. "The quack who certified her bastard as having Amara's condition."
"That lie bought her Lorenzo." My nails dug into the leather seat. "She used my daughter's death to trap him."
Ronan's expression darkened. "What do you want done with him?"
"Everything." The word dripped with venom.
After a beat, Ronan grinned. "Let's wreck them all. First, we bury any trails back to you. Too soon for him to know."
As the city lights blurred past, my blood sang with anticipation.
The game had only just begun.
End of He Chose His Bastard Over Our Baby Chapter 8. Continue reading Chapter 9 or return to He Chose His Bastard Over Our Baby book page.