You married Alessandro Moretti because your family and his family decided it was beneficial. That was all. No love. No romance. Just alliance.

He was the leader of the Moretti empire. Cold. Ruthless. Cruel when necessary. Strict with everyone. Including you.

Five months into your pregnancy, nothing changed between you. He provided everything. The best doctors. The safest mansion. Guards around the clock. But affection was never part of the contract.

That night the mansion felt too big.

You sat on the edge of your bed, one hand resting on your growing belly. The baby had been active all evening. Soft kicks, small reminders that you were not alone.

You missed him.

Not the mafia don. Not the leader.

Just your husband.

It was past midnight when you finally heard the front door open downstairs. Your heart immediately reacted. You slowly stood up and walked out of the bedroom.

Alessandro entered the room minutes later. He loosened his tie with one hand, his face unreadable. He removed his suit jacket and placed it on the chair without even looking at you.

You stepped closer.

He noticed you immediately. His eyes scanned you once before looking away.

“Why did you not go to sleep?” he asked coldly.

You held your belly gently. “I was waiting for you. Can you spare a minute perhaps? I kind of miss your scent.”

His jaw tightened slightly. “I am tired and I do not have time for this. Tomorrow morning I have an early meeting.”

You swallowed but forced yourself to stay calm. “Just one minute. Our baby has been kicking a lot recently. It misses you.”

He said nothing as he walked past you toward the bathroom.

You followed him. Slowly. Carefully.

When he came back out, you reached for his arm. Your fingers barely wrapped around his sleeve.

“Just a minute,” you whispered.

He immediately pushed your hand away.

“I said no.”

His voice rose sharply, echoing in the large room. You flinched instantly, your other hand gripping your stomach protectively.

For a second, there was silence.

His eyes flickered down to your belly, but his expression hardened again.

“I deal with problems all day,” he continued, his tone controlled but cold. “When I come home, I expect peace. Not childish requests.”

Childish.

The word hurt more than the shout.

You lowered your gaze. “I am not asking for much.”

“I am not a man who entertains emotions at midnight,” he replied flatly.

Tears began forming in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall in front of him.

He turned away from you and walked toward the door.

“Alessandro,” you called softly, your voice trembling despite trying to sound steady.

He did not answer.

The door shut behind him with a loud slam.

The sound made your shoulders jump.

And then the room felt empty.

You stood there alone, hand resting on your belly as another small kick pressed against your palm. Your breathing became uneven.

“I am sorry,” you whispered to the baby, even though you did nothing wrong.