The Heiress's Cruel Return

The operating table was ice-cold. A bone-deep chill crept up my spine, inch by inch.

This was the third time I'd lain here.

My husband, Dante Vane, stood on the other side of the sterile room's glass window. His eyes were flat and indifferent — like he was looking at a pile of garbage.

"Clean her up. I don't want Seraphina getting any bad luck from this."

He dropped those words and turned away, pulling Seraphina Rose gently against his side. She was pregnant with his child.