The Mafia’s Forgotten Wife: Pregnant and Abandoned - Chapter 2

Isabella’s POV

“I don’t want to eat seafood.”

Then, as if a sudden thought occurred to him, Vincent shifted his tone, “Oh, right. You probably shouldn’t have the sashimi. I just remembered you’re allergic or something?”

“Sorry, Isabella,” Rosa shot me a glance. “I’ve been craving sashimi ever since I got pregnant,” she added with a slight shrug. “But if you’re not in the mood for seafood, we can always switch to another restaurant. I guess.”

Vincent hesitated as he looked at me, clearly unsure of how to proceed. “Well, how about we go and let Rosa pick whatever she wants, then I’ll take you to the restaurant you like?”

I glanced between them. Vincent’s insistence felt off, and Rosa’s feigned casual concern only made me feel more exposed.

I stayed silent, my quiet refusal hanging in the air. Was he going to leave with me now that he remembered I hated seafood?

But as the moments stretched, Vincent said nothing. His gaze flickered between Rosa and me, hesitation written all over his face.

My patience wore thin. Without another word, I turned and hailed a cab. “Forget it. I’m going back to the house to eat.”

Vincent’s voice followed, sharp with irritation rather than concern. “Isabella, don’t make a scene. We’re in public.”

I didn’t bother responding. Instead, I pulled open the car door and, before slipping inside, threw one last parting shot over my shoulder.

“Enjoy your dinner.”

Then I got in and slammed the door shut before Vincent could say another word. The cab driver barely had time to ask where I was headed before I barked out the address of the mansion. My hands clenched into fists on my lap, and my heart pounded in my chest—not just from anger, but from something deeper. Something uglier.

Vincent hadn’t followed me. He hadn’t even tried.

That should’ve told me everything I needed to know.

I was Vincent’s wife—his pregnant wife—but ever since he’d made up mind to protect Rosa’s baby, my baby and me became invisible to his eyes.

This baby had once been my hope, my dream, after years of waiting.

But now? Now, I don’t think so. I had made a mistake.

I never should’ve had this child if I’d known it would be born into a family like this—a family where the father gives more attention to the other child than his own baby.

Vincent had returned to our mansion just when I thought I could finally get some rest, his eyebrows furrowed, clearly troubled by something.

He dropped to his knees in front of me as soon as he saw me and, looking as if he was explaining a grand, noble cause, said, “Babe, don’t be mad at me, okay?”

From what Vincent had told me, he’d been ambushed by Rosa, too. He’d been in his car, on the phone negotiating an arms deal with Africa, when Rosa had shown up, her eyes red and swollen from crying.

He had no choice but to comfort her. After all, they’d grown up together—she was his childhood sweetheart and her parents were friends to Vincent’s parents too.

She’d told him that if her parents found out about the pregnancy, they would pressure her into aborting it. She wanted to keep her baby.

Vincent couldn’t let that happen to her, so he agreed to let her say he was the father, at least for now. Apparently, when Rosa’s parents heard about it, they weren’t upset at all.

After all, who wouldn’t want a baby when its father was Vincent Falcone?

“Isabella, I really needed you to trust me on this,” he said, pausing for a long moment before continuing. “It will be like we are saving a life together. If I do not help her, Rosa’s baby will be aborted the moment her parents take her home.”

“So…?” I didn’t let him finish. “So you’ve made up your mind to make our baby fatherless, is that it? So my child will be a bastard, possibly born without a name, with no family to back them up?”

Vincent took my hands and pressed them to his lips. “I’m sorry, Isabella. Just a little longer. Once Rosa gives birth, I can take our baby home and claim them as my own.”

“I couldn’t just stand there and watch Rosa suffer.”

I inhaled deeply. “Then I guess there’s no need for our baby to be born.”

“No!” Vincent stood up, his face contorted with anger. “Why can’t you just understand? I told you, I’ll claim our baby once Rosa’s is born. Why do you have to be so stubborn? You’re not giving up on our baby, and I’ll help with Rosa’s too. End of discussion.”

Then, just like that, he left—like nothing had happened.

The next day, Vincent sent a dozen bodyguards to surround the mansion and a dozen maids to help me. I knew what he was doing—keeping a close watch on me, making sure I didn’t do anything to harm our baby.

He was afraid.

He even took my phone, cutting off any chance of escape.

Why insist on having our baby when he’d already chosen Rosa’s first?

Did Vincent really think I was such a pushover that I’d just let him do whatever he wanted?

Well, screw him. I’m not a puppet, and I sure as hell won’t sit back and accept whatever crap he throws my way.

…

Time passed. I was stuck here, and according to Vincent, I was “enjoying” my pregnancy.

One morning, after finishing breakfast, I heard the front door open. Rosa was standing next to a woman I didn’t recognize.

The minute the woman saw me, she started shooting sarcasm. “Someone’s looking full of herself. Why would you still cling to the title of Mrs. Falcone when you’re clearly messing around with another man? And getting pregnant—how shameful.”

“My poor baby girl,” she cooed. “You must’ve suffered so much, Rosa.”

That woman was Rosa’s mother? What was she going on about—me messing around with another man and getting pregnant?

I was pregnant with Vincent’s child, not her. It was Rosa who was the one messing around and ended up pregnant.

I watched as more people followed them inside, carrying bags and boxes. Rosa acted like she owned the place, bossing the maids and workers around as they helped her move her things into one of the empty rooms. Once she was done, she turned to me with a cruel smile.

“Isabella,” she sneered, “you thought you won by marrying Vincent, didn’t you? Look at me now. I’m standing here, about to sleep in the bed he bought for this mansion.”

“You’re nothing, Isabella.”

I watched as she laughed, her voice dripping with malice. I couldn’t hold back the anger anymore. I marched toward her, step by step, and slapped her across the face with all the force I could muster.

She screamed as she fell onto the sofa behind her.

Just then, Vincent walked in, witnessing the scene. I wasn’t done with Rosa. I’d tolerated her sarcasm for far too long, but that didn’t mean she had the right to keep pushing me.