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I was in labor for twelve hours before I finally got through to my husband. My voice trembled. “She’s here. It’s a girl. She has your blue eyes.” There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Then, he said, “I know. I’m in a meeting. We’ll talk later.” I held the phone, listening to the dial tone as my tears sank into the pillow. I wiped my eyes and looked at my daughter beside me. “Sweetheart, Daddy’s busy. He’ll come see us soon.” Chloe, in the bed next to mine, was on the phone, too. Her voice was a sweet murmur. “Honey, you went way overboard. You even bought three different brands of pacifiers.” She hung up and waved her phone at me. “My husband is so thoughtful. He started getting all this ready three months ago.” She glanced at my empty bedside table, then paused, her gaze lingering. But I knew what the look in her eyes meant. That night, I held my daughter and didn’t sleep at all. I sent him another iMessage. [Dante, our daughter looks so much like you. Come see her when you can.] No reply. At midnight, fast footsteps echoed in the hallway. Chloe sat up at once, her voice bright with excitement. “He’s here.” The door opened. A man strode in carrying a bouquet of white roses and a gift bag from a luxury boutique. Chloe smiled and held out her hand. “What took you so long? Lorenzo and I have been waiting forever.” He bent and kissed Chloe. Then he looked up and saw me, and his whole body went still. I was looking at him, too. Looking at the man who had told me he was away in Boston on business. A broken laugh escaped me, tears spilling with it. ... The card tucked into Dante Bellini’s bouquet read: [For my Chloe. Thank you for bringing Lorenzo into the world.] Lorenzo. He had even picked out the name. When I was pregnant, Dante would stroke my belly and say that if it was a girl, we’d call her Poppy. He said, “Poppy is such an ordinary flower, but it grows well anywhere. I want our daughter to be happy. I want her life to be steady.” Now he was holding Chloe’s son, his palm resting lightly against the baby’s back, his touch careful and gentle. My daughter stirred beside me. She was hungry, and she started crying, the sound thin and weak. Dante heard her. But he didn’t look down at her. The smile slowly faded from Chloe’s face. She looked at Dante, her voice much quieter now. “Dante, do you know her?” I held my daughter and waited for him to speak. But he only looked away and said in a low voice, “An old friend.” Six years of marriage. Twelve hours of labor. And in the end, that was all I was. I thought about the year his startup failed. On Christmas Eve, debt collectors were blocking our apartment door. I sold the Tiffany bracelet my mother left me and paid off one of his debts. That night, he held me and said, “Thea, once I get through this, I’ll give you a home.” Turns out there had never been a place for me in it. A nurse came in, holding two birth certificate information forms. She went to Chloe’s bed first. “Mr. Bellini, Ms. Ricci’s information is all filled out. We just need you to confirm the details and sign as the father.” Dante took the pen. He signed his name to Chloe’s son’s birth certificate. When the nurse flipped to the second form, she stopped. She looked at me, then at Dante. “Ms. Bennett also listed Dante Bellini as the father.” “You’ll need to confirm this one, too. Otherwise, we have to leave the father’s name blank for now.” The room went silent. Chloe’s face went white. She stared at Dante, her lips trembling. “That baby is yours, too?” Dante didn’t answer. I tightened my hold on the swaddle blanket. My daughter was still crying. At last, Dante glanced at her. Then he said, “Leave it blank for now.” The baby in Chloe’s arms stirred. Dante turned immediately and patted the infant’s back. “Don’t disturb Chloe’s rest.” The nurse stood there awkwardly, then handed the form to me. “Ms. Bennett, we’ll leave the father’s section empty for now.” I lowered my eyes to the paper. Mother: Thea Bennett. Father: blank. Her father was standing a few feet away, holding another woman’s son. I had kept wondering if Dante would be the first one to hold our daughter on the day she was born. Now she was here, and he wouldn’t even sign a piece of paper for her. My daughter’s crying grew harsher. The nurse touched her little cheek and frowned. “Her blood sugar is a little low. Did you bring formula from home?” I opened my mouth, but no words came out. There was nothing. Not because I hadn’t wanted to prepare. Because Dante had said he would take care of everything. The suitcase by Chloe’s bed was still open. Bottles, a bottle warmer, diapers, swaddles, baby clothes—everything was there, all brand-new. Dante was silent for a few seconds, then reached into the case and took out a small tin of formula. But Chloe suddenly grabbed his sleeve. Her eyes were red, her voice trembling. “Dante, Lorenzo needs that, too. The doctor said his stomach is really sensitive. We can’t just switch things around.” Dante’s hand froze. A few seconds later, he put the formula back. “Thea, the hospital has a supply. Use theirs for now.” I looked at him. “That’s your daughter.” He frowned. “I know.” I held my daughter as she cried so hard she trembled, and a chill went through me. She had only just been born, and already she was being asked to step aside for someone else. Chloe’s eyes were red. “Dante, I didn’t know about this baby…” “Don’t overthink it.” Dante cut her off, his tone gentle. “You just gave birth. Don’t cry.” When he looked at me again, his voice had gone cold. “Thea, don’t make a scene.” I had been in pain for twelve hours. From signing the anesthesia consent form, to being wheeled into delivery, to calling him after the baby was born—I had done it all alone. And now he was accusing me of making a scene. I looked at him and suddenly felt so tired. I pushed the birth form back toward the nurse. “Leave the father’s section blank.” “And don’t fill it in later, either.”The next morning, Chloe was moved upstairs to a private suite. Private nurses and a nutritionist came and went. Dante’s mother brought over a silver rattle set with sapphires and placed it beside Lorenzo’s bassinet. Photos were quickly shared in the family group chat. When I woke in the standard ward downstairs, there was only a glass of cold water on my bedside table. My daughter was crying nonstop from hunger. She was so small. She didn’t have the strength to nurse for long before going limp, and even her cries were weak. A nurse helped adjust my position and glanced around the room. “Where’s your family?” I lowered my head. “They’re busy.” At noon, Dante’s mother arrived. The first thing she did was look at the bassinet. “A girl?” I held my daughter and didn’t answer. A woman came in behind her carrying a hospital-grade breast pump. I tensed instantly. Dante’s mother tipped up her chin. “The nurse isn’t here. Good. Close the door.” The woman turned and locked it. Dante’s mother looked at my chest. “Chloe doesn’t have milk. Lorenzo is allergic to formula. The nurse said your milk has come in. Pump some for Lorenzo.” I froze. “What did you just say?” She frowned. “Both children are Dante’s. Lorenzo needs it more right now. Missing one feeding won’t hurt your daughter.” I tightened my arms around my baby. “My milk is for my daughter.” Her face darkened. “Thea, don’t be so selfish. Girls aren’t that fragile.” The woman started walking toward me. “Miss Bennett, just bear with it. It’ll be over quickly.” The second her hand touched my hospital gown, I grabbed the water glass from the bedside table and threw it at her. Dante’s mother snapped, “Have you lost your mind?” A knock sounded at the door. Dante walked in. He saw the broken glass on the floor, then the fury on his mother’s face. “What happened?” His mother said coldly, “I asked her to pump a little milk for Lorenzo, and she went crazy.” Dante looked at me. “Thea, it’s just one feeding.” Whatever hope I had left inside me shattered. My daughter’s lips had gone white from hunger, and she was still crying. Dante acted as if he couldn’t hear a thing. I threw back the blanket and tried to get out of bed. The moment I moved, pain tore through me as if my stitches had split, and a cold sweat broke out over my skin. Dante reached out to steady me. I slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me.” “If the Bellini family wants to feed that baby, go find his mother.” “Don’t you dare steal from my daughter.” Dante’s mother raised her hand and slapped me across the face. Dante frowned but didn’t stop her. He only lowered his voice. “Mom, she just gave birth.” His mother sneered. “She just gave birth, and she’s already learned how to make everything about her. If she raises this child, she’ll only become more trouble later.” Half my face went numb. My daughter cried until her lips turned purple, her voice growing weaker and weaker. Panic seized me. I held her, calling her name again and again. The nurse finally rushed in. The second she saw the red mark on my face and the breast pump, her expression changed. “What are you doing? She just gave birth. Who authorized you to use this equipment on her in private?” Dante’s mother’s face remained cold. “This is a family matter.” The nurse was shaking with anger. “This is a hospital, not your house.” Dante told the woman to put the machine away as the nurse turned to get the doctor. His mother shot me a vicious look. “You’d better not bring this into court. Otherwise, that child will never carry the Bellini name.” The door closed again. Dante stood by the bed. “Thea, this ends here.” I held my daughter and didn’t look at him again.On the third day, the Bellini family’s relatives and friends came to the hospital to visit Chloe. Afraid I would cause trouble, Dante’s mother had me moved into the small room outside Chloe’s private suite. It had been meant for bodyguards and assistants, separated from the main room by nothing but a heavy curtain. Dante stood by my bed, his eyes avoiding mine. “A lot of family is coming today. Just stay here for now.” He lowered his voice. “Our friends have always believed Chloe is my fiancée.” “We’re also filming Lorenzo’s birth announcement today. Telling the truth now won’t do anyone any good.” I remembered six years ago, when his business failed, he had held me and said, “Thea, just hang on a little longer. Once I’m through this, I’ll never let you suffer this kind of humiliation again.” Now he had money to send flowers to someone else, to book someone else a suite. What I got was a curtain. My throat tightened. “What about after today?” Dante seemed to let out a breath. “After today, I’ll handle it.” He reached out and pulled the blanket up over me. “Thea, I know this isn’t fair to you.” Just then, laughter came from the other room. With a nurse supporting her, Chloe walked out. When she saw me, triumph flashed in her eyes. “Thea, don’t blame Dante. He’s doing this for the family business, too.” She came closer and bent down as if to straighten my pillow. Her voice dropped low enough that only I could hear. “Thea, you don’t really think a marriage certificate is enough to make him acknowledge you in front of everyone, do you?” My fingers stiffened. But she had already straightened up, her eyes red as she looked at Dante. “Dante, is Thea upset?” Dante looked at me. I wanted to explain, but his eyes were tired, impatient. I swallowed the words and lowered my head to tuck the swaddle around my daughter. “No.” Chloe gave a soft sigh. “Then let me see the baby. She’s Dante’s daughter, too.” She reached for Poppy. Poppy was already sleeping restlessly. The moment Chloe touched her, she started crying. My heart clenched, and I knocked Chloe’s hand away. The next second, Chloe staggered back two steps and hit the low cabinet stacked with gifts. She clutched her lower belly, tears instantly falling. “Thea, I only wanted to see the baby. Why did you push me?” Dante hurried over to catch her. “Thea.” I held my crying daughter and said quietly, “I didn’t push her.” Chloe leaned against him, her body shaking with sobs. “Forget it. She just gave birth. She’s emotional. I don’t blame her.” Dante’s mother’s face was a mask of fury. “Chloe just gave birth, too, and you still laid hands on her.” The relatives and friends standing beyond the curtain whispered to one another. “So she’s the woman from the hospital?” “She looked so quiet. I never would have expected this.” Dante focused only on checking if Chloe was hurt. It was a long while before he finally looked up at me. “Apologize to Chloe.” I looked at him, my eyes burning. I knew that if I kept fighting, he would only grow more annoyed. I closed my eyes and swallowed it all down. “I’m sorry.” Silence fell over the room. Resting in Dante’s arms, a flash of smugness crossed Chloe’s face. His mother gave a cold snort. “Would it have killed you to do that from the start?” She told someone to draw the curtain. Dante didn’t stop her. Once it fell, the room felt split in two. On the other side, there were flowers, congratulations, and their so-called first grandson. On this side, there was only me, my daughter, and half a glass of cold water. The photographer asked softly, “Mr. Bellini, should we continue filming the announcement?” Dante was silent for a few seconds. “Continue.” Soon the room beyond the curtain was lively again. “Lorenzo looks so much like Dante.” “So, should we be calling you Mrs. Bellini soon?” Chloe smiled weakly. “Don’t say that.” Dante didn’t deny it. I sat behind the curtain and listened to each blessing drift through. My phone lit up. It was a push notification from a financial news outlet. [Head of Bellini Group Dante Bellini Welcomes a Son; Ricci Family Daughter and Baby Are Safe.] The comments were full of “perfect couple” and “future heir.” After the shoot was over, Dante lifted the curtain and came in holding an envelope. “This is from my mother for the baby.” He set the envelope on the bedside table, his voice softer than before. “Thea, I know today was hard on you. But Chloe’s in poor health, and Lorenzo is still so little. Don’t upset them again.” I opened the envelope. It wasn’t cash. It was a check, and a note. [Take the money and leave. Don’t teach your child to behave the way you do.] When Dante saw the note, his face changed. “This isn’t what I meant.” I looked up at him, my voice quiet. “Then how much longer do you expect me to endure this?” He froze. From the other room came the sound of Chloe crying again. Dante turned and glanced back, his brow knitting. “I’ll explain later.” But he still left. The curtain fell again. I sat there holding my daughter while tears slid down my face.

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