the man screamed, gripping the dashboard as panic flashed in his eyes.But Antonia didn’t hear him.She didn’t hear anything.All she could hear was Alessandro’s voice—his cold, merciless voice—repeating in her head like a cruel echo."Kill her. And send the corpse to me."And in that moment—she had nothing left to lose.His hands trembled as he stared at the glowing screen, the unknown number glaring back at him like a silent threat. His heart pounded in his chest, his breath shallow. Who could this be? A chill crawled up his spine, an unshakable feeling of unease settling in."No one should know... No one except my family and hers. So who—"Alessandro’s voice from the phone call echoed in his mind. "Don’t tell me... It can’t be Beatrice, can it?"His jaw tightened, his grip on the phone turning white-knuckled. The mere thought sent a storm raging through him. Could she have found out? Had she been watching him from the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike?He swallowed
Alessandro’s pulse hammered in his ears as he weaved through the grand hall, his heart racing with every passing second. The cryptic call still echoed in his mind, the threat clinging to him like a dark shadow."Damn it, Federico, pick up!" he muttered, pressing the phone against his ear as he tried to reach his brother. Nothing. Straight to voicemail.He clenched his jaw, quickly dialing another number."Come on, Antonia… pick up… please."Silence.A sinking feeling lodged itself in his chest as he shoved his phone into his pocket and stormed through the corridors, throwing open every door he came across.A private lounge—empty.The garden balcony—no sign of her.The storage room—nothing."Where the hell could she be?" he whispered to himself, his breath ragged.Then, his eyes landed on a door at the end of the hall. The ladies’ restroom.A flicker of hesitation gripped him, but the urgency overpowered it. He had to check. He had to know she was safe.Quickly glancing around to make
His grip on the paper trembled.A sharp exhale escaped his lips as his mind raced.Who had placed this in his pocket? When?And most importantly—where was Antonia?"Antonia!" he called out again, his voice raw with urgency.Still, no answer.A cold chill ran through him.Something was very, very wrong."Antonia—" Alessandro began, but before he could finish, the lights flickered on.He turned, expecting her beside him. But she was gone."Antonia!" he called, his voice sharp with panic, drawing the attention of those around him. His heartbeat pounded in his ears as his eyes darted through the crowd.Then, a voice—calm, almost amused—cut through the tension."I'm here."Alessandro’s head snapped toward the sound. Antonia stood beside Federico, her posture composed, as if his panic hadn’t just unraveled in front of a room full of people.Relief surged through him, quickly replaced by frustration. He closed the distance between them in seconds, his hand gripping her wrist as he searched h
she whispered, her eyes wide with shock.Her heart slammed against her ribcage as the weight of those words settled in. Her lips parted, but no words came out.Pregnant.Tears welled up in her eyes—whether from fear, joy, or pure disbelief, she couldn’t tell.Her hands instinctively rested on her stomach, her mind spiraling.Everything was about to change.As Antonia sat in the dimly lit hospital parking lot, her fingers trembled as they brushed over her stomach. A cold shiver ran down her spine as the memories of that night came rushing back—the night Alessandro had taken away the last piece of control she had left.Her breath hitched, and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the haunting images, but they came flooding in like an unrelenting tide.His weight pressing down on her.His voice, cold and merciless.Her silent screams.A single tear slipped down her cheek, followed by another, until she could no longer stop them.She let out a shaky breath and opened her eyes, s
The word felt foreign, unreal, like a cruel trick the universe was playing on him.His gaze darted back to Antonia, still asleep, oblivious to the storm she had just unleashed inside him.A baby.Their baby.His hands trembled slightly as he lowered the test back onto the file. A part of him wanted to wake her up, demand answers, demand to know if this was real. Another part of him—one he barely recognized—felt something else entirely.A strange, unfamiliar tightness in his chest.For the first time in a long time, Alessandro Amato was afraid.Alessandro’s eyes remained fixed on the paper in his trembling hands. His mind raced, struggling to piece everything together.How did this happen?There had never been mutual feelings between them—no love, no tenderness, just a cold, forced marriage bound by obligations.And then it hit him.His stomach twisted. His breath caught in his throat.That night.The memory came rushing back like a violent tide, drowning him in guilt and regret. The n
"We have to change the decor and designs of this room," Alessandro announced, his sharp gaze scanning the space next to his own bedroom. His tone was firm, decisive—this wasn’t just any room. It was going to be their child’s room.The sounds of workers moving furniture and discussing plans filled the air, echoing through the halls.Meanwhile, Antonia stirred awake, her brows furrowing at the unfamiliar commotion. She sat up slowly, her body still adjusting to the changes within her. She hadn’t expected the morning to be filled with such noise.Confused, she wrapped a shawl around herself and stepped out of her room, only to be met with an unexpected sight—Federico, standing in the middle of the sitting room, grinning like a child who had just received a long-awaited gift."Good morning, Antonia! And good morning to my little niece or nephew!" Federico beamed, closing the distance between them and pulling her into a warm embrace.Antonia blinked in shock, her mind still hazy from sleep
As I walked toward the balcony, my body seeking solace in the crisp air of the morning, a voice—a familiar voice—echoed through the room.I stopped mid-step. My breath caught in my throat as a cold shiver ran down my spine. Slowly, I turned around, my eyes landing on the very people I never expected—never wanted—to see standing in my home.My mother.My stepfather.And her.My stepsister.The room suddenly felt smaller, the walls closing in as my heart pounded against my ribcage. A rush of emotions swirled inside me—anger, fear, confusion. What are they doing here? My mind screamed, but my voice failed me.I could barely move, barely breathe. My fingers curled into fists at my sides, a futile attempt to steady the tremble in them.Then, before I could process the moment, my mother took a step forward, her eyes unreadable, her lips pressed together as if searching for the right words.And then she did something unexpected.She embraced me.The warmth of her arms wrapped around me, but
“I need some air.”Without another word, Alessandro stormed out of the house, his emotions tangled in a mess of frustration and unresolved pain.Federico exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Has this house always been this toxic, Aldo?” he muttered, collapsing onto the couch.Aldo sighed, watching Alessandro disappear through the front door. “Not always. But some wounds never heal… they just find new ways to bleed.”Meanwhile, outside, Alessandro changed into his racing gear—his fitted suit, gloves, and specialized shoes. The anger bubbling inside him needed an outlet, and there was only one place he knew could match his storm—the track.Sliding into his sleek blue racing car, he gripped the wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white. His jaw clenched as his thoughts spiraled.Why can’t she just fight back?Why can’t she bark at them, bite back, show them she’s not weak?Antonia let her stepsister’s cruel words pierce her over and over, never standing her ground. How does she expect to
The sharp click of polished leather shoes echoed through the parking lot, a lonely rhythm in the hush of twilight. Federico stood beneath a flickering lamp, its dim orange glow casting long shadows across his tailored suit. He gripped his phone tighter, knuckles pale, as his voice sliced through the silence.“Hey,” he spat, low and seething. “I told you to take care of all three of them.”His jaw clenched as he paused, listening to the man on the other end. The veins in his neck pulsed like coiled wire, a volcano of restraint.“Why is it only one that's dead?” he demanded, his voice trembling on the edge of fury. “You always leave your job half-done. I warned you last time—you were almost caught. Almost exposed everything.”His eyes scanned the darkness, paranoia creeping like ivy through his mind. “Just one job,” he hissed, “one job I ask of you. And you turn it into a goddamn nightmare.”He stopped pacing, breath fogging the cool evening air. “You make everything ten times harder. S
The soft, rhythmic hum of machines had become a lullaby in Antonia’s ears. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep—not even for a second—but exhaustion had finally dragged her under. Curled beside Luca’s incubator, her hand resting just inches from the transparent barrier, her breathing matched his monitor. Shallow. Fragile. Hopeful.The dim light above flickered slightly as the door creaked open.A tall male nurse stepped in—his steps swift but practiced, his eyes scanning the machines. He wore the hospital’s standard navy scrubs, an ID badge clipped to his chest. His face was unfamiliar, but in her half-sleep, Antonia didn’t stir.He moved with precision. Gloved fingers adjusting an IV, checking the monitor readings. Then came the needle—an injection he drew from his pocket without hesitation.He bent over the incubator and pressed the needle into the side port.Luca didn’t stir.The nurse pressed the plunger slowly, watching the clear liquid disappear. A moment passed, then he straightened
The world outside might have kept moving, but in this small corner of the NICU, time had frozen.Three sons. Born too soon.Three tiny souls who carried the weight of her world on their fragile shoulders.Matteo, the first to cry, had come into the world loud and strong—his scream had made her sob in relief. Antonio, his twin by seconds, had gripped the nurse’s glove with impossibly small fingers, as if refusing to be separated from his brother. They now slept peacefully in the recovery room, their matching features softened by newborn sleep, pink lips parted in dreams Antonia would never get to see.But Luca… Luca had arrived in silence.He hadn’t cried. He hadn’t opened his eyes. And he hadn’t breathed on his own.Her heart had splintered in that moment.Now, as she sat inches from the incubator, watching the rise and fall of his narrow chest beneath layers of tubes and wires, Antonia whispered his name like a prayer.“Luca,” she murmured, barely above a breath. “You’re the quiet on
The sterile scent of disinfectant clung to the air in the neonatal intensive care unit. The lights overhead were too white, too clean—like they were trying to scrub the agony from the place, but pain had a way of seeping in anyway. Antonia sat motionless in her wheelchair, her hands curled tightly around the metal rim as if letting go would break her completely.Beyond the transparent casing of the incubator lay her youngest—a baby too small, too fragile. Tubes and monitors encased his tiny body like a second womb, and with each faint beep of the heart monitor, her own heartbeat stumbled to keep pace.Her Eldest twin son's were asleep in the next room, cradled in soft blue and green blankets, unaware of the storm unraveling around them. But Antonia couldn’t move. Not while her last little son still clung to life with every struggling breath.Her eyes, red-rimmed and sleepless, stayed locked on the rhythmic rise and fall of the baby’s chest. A heart condition, they said. Congenital. “W
Alessandro burst through the hospital’s sliding doors, breath ragged, heart galloping in his chest.“Antonia Amato,” he told the nurse at the front desk, voice tight. “Where is she? She’s in labor—tell me where she is!”The nurse pointed to the maternity wing. “Room 304. But you’ll have to—”He didn’t wait. He sprinted down the corridor, ignoring the startled calls of staff, his shoes pounding against the white-tiled floor.He found the room.Pushed the door open.And then—He froze.The sound of her scream shattered him.Antonia was drenched in sweat, legs in stirrups, hands gripping the sides of the bed. Her face was contorted in pain, and tears streamed from her bloodshot eyes.“Antonia—” he breathed, stepping in.Her eyes snapped to him.And something broke inside her.“Get out!” she screamed, her voice like a blade. “Get the hell out, Alessandro!”He stood there, stunned. “Antonia, I—”“You don’t get to be here!” she cried. “You weren’t there when I needed you—I begged for you—I
She cried out, doubling over in pain."Roosevelt?” Antonia’s voice rose with alarm. “What’s wrong?”“I don’t know, it just... hurts.”Shee steadied her, fear creeping into her expression. “We need to get you checked out. Come on.”“I can’t leave him. Not now.”“You’re no good to him if something happens to you,” Roosevelt said, trying to keep calm. “Let’s make sure you’re okay first.”Antonia nodded faintly, her lips trembling as tears ran down her cheeks.And as Roosevelt helped her to her feet, one thought consumed her:Please, Alessandro… be okay.A sudden gush of warmth soaked through Antonia's thighs, and her body went rigid.Her eyes widened in shock. “They’re coming…” she gasped, clutching her swollen belly. “I can feel it—oh God—they’re coming out!”A sharp pain sliced through her lower back, and her knees buckled.“Roosevelt!” she screamed, her voice raw and terrified as she grabbed her arm with a grip so tight her knuckles turned white.She was at her side in an instant. “An
Alessandro’s eyes snapped to the window, heart pounding. He pushed the curtain aside, breath catching in his throat.There—across the dimly lit clearing that separated their villa from the thick trees at the edge of the island—stood a man dressed entirely in black. Even in the low light, Alessandro could make out the dark cap pulled low over the stranger’s face. The man wasn’t moving. He was just… watching.And then he smiled.It wasn't a kind smile. It was eerie—slow, deliberate, curling like a secret threat. The man let out a soft, raspy chuckle, almost inaudible through the glass, and turned to disappear into the shadows of the trees.Alessandro’s body reacted before his mind could catch up. He threw open the door and bolted down the stairs, barefoot on cold marble, his pulse thudding like war drums. The front door flew open as he burst into the night air, eyes scanning the surrounding darkness.Nothing. No footprints. No sound. Just the distant hum of the waves.“Alessandro?” came
“Come on, Federico, we need to leave. Now,” Alessandro barked, storming out of his room with Aldo close behind, struggling to keep up. His footsteps thundered through the quiet hall, fury practically radiating from his shoulders. The front door slammed behind them.In the kitchen, Roosevelt glanced over his shoulder while scrubbing the last of the dishes. “I wonder what could have rattled him this much…”Antonia, drying a plate in slow circles, sighed. Her eyes flicked toward the window as if searching the wind for answers. “He’s always like this—this storm of emotions. Just when I think I’ve figured him out, he proves me wrong all over again.”Roosevelt turned off the faucet and leaned on the counter. “If you must know, Antonia... Alessandro loves you. He’s just... not great at showing it. Give him time.”Antonia’s hands froze mid-wipe. Her voice dropped, quiet and bitter. “I’m sorry, Roosevelt. But love is the wrong word for whatever Alessandro feels for me.”She set the plate down,
The sun had barely begun to rise over the island estate, casting a golden blush across the kitchen floor. The smell of roasted tomatoes and fresh basil wafted through the air as Roosevelt stirred something lovingly over the stove, humming her favorite love song under her breath.I sat at the table, wrapped in Alessandro’s oversized cardigan—my new comfort blanket—gently rubbing the curve of my belly. My hand was starting to settle there more naturally now. Protectively. Almost like instinct.“You’re glowing today,” Roosevelt said as she set down a warm cup of tea in front of me.Federico walked in with his usual energy, tossing his jacket onto the back of a chair. Aldo followed behind, a file tucked under his arm, though even he looked more relaxed than usual.“Well, someone’s looking radiant,” Federico teased, reaching over to ruffle my hair gently. “Let me guess—you finally got Alessandro to massage your swollen feet?”“Federico!” I swatted his hand away, laughing.“I mean it,” Roos