Chapter 1 - My Father Put a Price on Me After My Infertility Diagnosis—Then Chicago’s Most Feared Widower Stood Up and Said, “I Want Her”
The day my doctor told my parents I would never have children, they didn't comfort me.
They started calculating how much less I was worth.
Five hours later, I was sitting inside a private Chicago club while dangerous men discussed buying me like damaged property.
Then Arthur Costa, a widowed mafia boss with four children of his own, looked across the room and made everyone go silent.
"Inhospitable."
That was the word the doctor used.
I sat on the examination table while my father stared at the ultrasound monitor instead of me. At twenty-six, I had spent years living with pain, but no one had bothered investigating it until my family needed proof that I could produce an heir.
"Zero percent?" my father asked.
"Without an extraordinary medical intervention, yes."
My mother sighed from the corner.
Not sadly.
Impatiently.
The moment we entered the car, I understood why.
"The Romanos won't take the agreement now," my father said, pouring himself Scotch. "Carmine wanted a grandson."
My mother exhaled cigarette smoke toward the cracked window.
"We owe them three million dollars."
I stared at them.
"So what happens to me?"
My father finally looked over.
"You're still an asset."
The words landed harder than the diagnosis.
He explained it like a businessman discussing damaged inventory.
There were men who didn't want children.
Men who wanted a beautiful wife for appearances.
Someone to host dinners.
Someone quiet.
Someone they could sleep with without worrying about an heir.
"You're auctioning me."
"We're arranging a marriage," he corrected.
"Tonight."
Five hours later, I was wearing the black velvet dress my mother chose and sitting inside the Continental, neutral ground for some of the most dangerous men in the Midwest.
My father moved between tables selling me.
I could always tell when he revealed my diagnosis.
The men looked over afterward.
Some lost interest immediately.
Others became more interested.
One eventually approached.
He had a scar cutting through his eyebrow and smelled of cheap cologne.
"Richard says you can't have kids."
"That's what the doctors say."
His smile widened.
"Good."
My stomach tightened.
"Means I can do whatever I want without worrying about some bastard showing up later."
I kept my face still.
Inside, something collapsed.
Apparently this was what remained of my future.
Then suddenly the man disappeared from the booth.
Someone had grabbed him by the collar and dragged him backward.
A different man stood in his place.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Charcoal suit.
Silver beginning at his temples.
There was dried blood on one cuff.
Arthur Costa.
Every criminal family in Chicago knew his name.
He controlled northern supply routes, warehouses, and enough men that even my father spoke carefully around him.
Three years earlier, Arthur's wife had died in a car bombing meant for him.
He had four children.
And according to rumor, he had personally hunted down everyone responsible.
The scarred man coughed from several feet away.
"I didn't know you had a claim on her."
Arthur looked at him.
"I don't."
Then his gaze moved back to me.
"But you're ruining the view."
"Leave."
The man vanished.
Arthur sat across from me and ordered bourbon.
Unlike every other man that night, he didn't look at my body first.
He looked at my face.
Then at my father across the room.
"How much does Richard owe?"
"Three million."
"And he's selling you to cover it?"
My throat tightened.
"Yes."
Arthur took one slow sip.
Then he asked the question I least expected.
"Do you like children?"
I stared at him.
"Yes."
"How many do I have?"
"Four."
He nodded.
Then Arthur Costa turned toward my father and spoke loudly enough for every man in the Continental to hear.
"I want her."
Every conversation stopped.
My father turned so quickly that his glass nearly slipped from his hand.
For a moment, he simply stared.
Then he smiled.
It was the same smile he wore when he believed he'd won a negotiation.
"Arthur."
He hurried toward our table.
"What an unexpected pleasure."
Arthur didn't stand.
"Richard."
My father looked at me.
Then back at Arthur.
"I assume you've heard about my daughter's situation."
Arthur's expression didn't change.
"I've heard enough."
My father pulled out a chair.
"Then perhaps we can discuss terms."
Arthur looked at him.
"Sit."
My father sat immediately.
I watched in disbelief.
Richard Bennett had spent my entire life ordering people around.
He had shouted at waiters.
Threatened employees.
Humiliated my mother when dinner wasn't ready.
And treated me like an investment he expected to cash in someday.
Yet one word from Arthur Costa made him sit like a schoolboy.
My father leaned forward.
"Arthur, I'm sure we can arrange something beneficial."
Arthur placed his glass on the table.
"Your debt is three million."
My father nodded.
"Approximately."
"Three million, two hundred and forty thousand."
My father went pale.
Arthur continued.
"With interest."
I stared at him.
How did he know the exact amount?
My father cleared his throat.
"Yes."
Arthur looked at me.
Then back at Richard.
"And you intended to settle it by marrying your daughter to whoever offered the most favorable terms."
My father shifted.
"That's a harsh way to describe a traditional arrangement."
Arthur's eyes hardened.
"Is it inaccurate?"
Silence.
My father looked down.
Arthur leaned back.
"Here's my offer."
My stomach tightened.
I felt like I was watching my life being negotiated across a table.
Arthur continued.
"I'll acquire the debt."
My father looked relieved.
"And?"
Arthur glanced at me.
"Your daughter comes with me."
My chest tightened.
There it was.
Another transaction.
Another man deciding my future.
I stared at Arthur.
For a moment, I hated him.
Not because he'd hurt me.
But because I'd begun to hope he might be different.
My father smiled broadly.
"Excellent."
He reached for Arthur's hand.
Arthur didn't move.
"There's one condition."
My father froze.
"What condition?"
Arthur looked at me.
"She decides whether she stays."
Silence.
My father blinked.
"I'm sorry?"
Arthur's voice remained calm.
"Your daughter is not part of the debt."
I stared at him.
He continued.
"I'll settle the obligation because I want your family out of her life."
My father laughed nervously.
"Arthur, surely—"
Arthur raised one hand.
My father stopped.
Then Arthur looked directly at me.
"What's your name?"
I swallowed.
"Isabella."
"Isabella what?"
"Bennett."
He nodded.
"Isabella Bennett."
For the first time that night, someone said my name as though it belonged to a person.
Not an asset.
Not a problem.
Not a medical diagnosis.
A person.
Arthur continued.
"I'm going to ask you something."
I nodded.
"Do you want to leave this place?"
My throat tightened.
I looked toward my father.
His expression hardened.
I knew what he wanted me to say.
I knew what would happen if I embarrassed him.
Then Arthur spoke again.
"Don't look at him."
I turned back.
He met my eyes.
"Look at me."
I did.
"Do you want to leave?"
My lips trembled.
"Yes."
Arthur nodded.
"Then we're leaving."
He stood.
My father jumped up.
"Arthur, wait."
Arthur turned.
"What?"
Richard looked desperate.
"We haven't finalized the arrangement."
Arthur's expression hardened.
"There is no marriage arrangement."
My father stared.
Arthur continued.
"Your daughter is leaving because she wants to."
Richard's face turned red.
"And the debt?"
Arthur looked at him.
"My attorneys will contact yours."
My father swallowed.
"But—"
Arthur stepped closer.
"Richard."
My father froze.
"If you ever try to sell your daughter again, the debt will be the least of your problems."
Silence filled the room.
Then Arthur turned toward me.
"Isabella."
I looked up.
"Yes?"
"Would you like my coat?"
I stared at him.
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Then I nodded.
He removed his coat.
Placed it around my shoulders.
And offered his hand.
I hesitated.
Then took it.
We walked through the Continental together.
Nobody stopped us.
Nobody spoke.
And for the first time in my life, I left a room without asking my father's permission.
Outside, the Chicago night was cold.
A black SUV waited beside the curb.
Arthur opened the door.
I stopped.
He looked at me.
"What's wrong?"
I swallowed.
"Where are you taking me?"
He considered the question.
Then said, "Somewhere safe."
I stared at him.
He continued.
"You can stay at one of my guest properties tonight. Tomorrow, we'll discuss what you want to do next."
I hesitated.
"Why are you helping me?"
His expression changed.
For a moment, he looked tired.
Then he said quietly, "Because I have four children."
I frowned.
He continued.
"And I would burn down my own reputation before I let someone treat one of them the way your father treated you."
My eyes filled.
I looked away.
Arthur waited.
He didn't rush me.
Didn't grab my arm.
Didn't tell me to be grateful.
Finally, I climbed into the car.
He closed the door.
Then walked around to the other side.
As we drove away, I looked back at the Continental.
My father stood outside beneath the lights.
His face was furious.
But for once, his anger couldn't reach me.
I leaned back against the seat.
Arthur looked at me.
"Are you hungry?"
I blinked.
"What?"
He smiled faintly.
"Have you eaten?"
I shook my head.
"Not since breakfast."
His expression tightened.
He leaned toward the driver.
"Stop somewhere."
The driver nodded.
I stared at Arthur.
"Where?"
He looked at me.
"Anywhere that serves food after midnight."
I almost laughed.
"You're taking me to dinner?"
He smiled.
"Unless you'd rather go straight to sleep."
I looked down.
For a moment, I thought about everything that had happened.
The diagnosis.
My parents.
The club.
The men.
The way they'd looked at me.
Then I looked at Arthur.
The man everyone feared.
The man who had just walked me out of a room full of criminals without asking for anything in return.
I took a breath.
"Dinner sounds nice."
He nodded.
"Good."
And for the first time that day, I felt something I hadn't expected.
Hope.
I didn't know it yet.
But the man who had rescued me from my father's bargain was carrying secrets of his own.
Secrets about his dead wife.
His four children.
May you like
And the reason he had been watching my family for months.
Secrets that would change everything I thought I knew about Arthur Costa.
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