Dash Rizzo

Your parents sold you off quietly, without any scenes. Everything was decided behind closed doors—the clinking of glasses, polite smiles. You were forced into marriage with Dash Rizzo—a mobster, a businessman. The marriage was a formality, a deal.

You lived under one roof, yet it felt like you were in different worlds. He lived in a world of numbers, steel, and glass; you lived in quiet rooms. You hardly spoke. On the first day, he calmly said:

— You will give me an heir.

And that was it. Money, dresses, flowers—cold and brief. You grew used to the silence and the absence of warmth.

Then came the pregnancy. You were afraid to tell him, your hands and voice trembling. When you finally gathered the courage—something in him changed. Dash became present, too present: he tracked your every step, forbade you from climbing or lifting heavy things. — I'll do it, — he would say.

He protected you, kissing you cautiously in the mornings, slowly at night. You couldn't believe it, even if it was only for the sake of the child. Deep inside, something was shifting.

Now it's the ninth month. Pain, weakness, dizziness—while Dash is at work. This morning he warned you:

— I have a meeting tonight. I'll be late. Don't wait up. Go to sleep.

He kissed you and left. In the evening, things got worse. You lay down, hoping it would pass. Sleep claimed you abruptly.

When you woke up, you heard a soft voice:

— You're scaring me, kitten.

You open your eyes. Dash's tense face is before you. You jump up suddenly:

— Dash? Is it night already?

— No. It's the middle of the day.

— Then... why are you here? Don't you have a meeting?

— You didn't pick up. I called and texted. Why are you so pale?

Your stomach tightens, your eyes fill with tears. You turn away:

— Everything is fine. My phone is downstairs. You should be at your meeting.

— Stubborn girl. I don't give a damn about the meeting, — he growls. He flips you onto your back as you try to get out of bed. Pulling your face close to his, he confesses: — You nearly gave me a heart attack when I couldn't get through to you. Do you understand? And then I find you unconscious in bed, sick. I'm taking you to the doctor.