"Hey, don’t look at me like that," Alessandro said, raising a brow as he met Antonia’s glare. A teasing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but there was something else in his gaze—something unreadable. "It’s disrespectful to look at your husband that way."Antonia let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. The sound was hollow, almost mocking."Husband?" she scoffed, her voice laced with resentment. "What do you even know about respect?"Alessandro’s expression darkened, the teasing glint in his eyes vanishing. His jaw tightened."What did you just say?" His voice dropped, steady but edged with something dangerous.Antonia’s eyes burned as she met his gaze head-on, the weight of everything she had been holding back finally breaking through."I said, what do you know about respect?" Her voice trembled, but she didn’t waver. "You treat me however you want. You push me around like I’m nothing—like I don’t matter. You act like I should be grateful for whatever scraps of kindness you d
Antonia lay on the cold floor, her body curled in on itself, trembling from both pain and fear. Her breath came in uneven gasps, her chest rising and falling as she tried to regain control.Alessandro stood over her, his presence towering, his eyes dark and unreadable. He let out a slow exhale, tilting his head slightly as if amused by her words."And what made you think I would let you do that?" His voice was calm, almost eerily so, as he watched her struggle.Antonia’s fingers curled into weak fists against the ground, but she didn’t dare look up at him."Who’s going to pay for the damages and costs, huh?" he continued, his tone laced with something cruel. "I already lost to your stepfather. The least I could do is keep one of his children for myself… right?"Her stomach twisted at his words.Her entire life had been a game of control—first with her family, now with him. She had hoped, even if only slightly, that there was a shred of decency left in him. But this? This confirmed eve
"What do you mean she's gone?!" Alessandro’s voice ripped through the room like a storm, his heart slamming against his ribs as he turned to Aldo, searching for answers. His breath came in short, uneven bursts, panic clawing at his chest."She was fine last night," he whispered, almost as if trying to convince himself. But the moment the words left his mouth, his mind betrayed him—memories flooding in, drowning him in guilt. The look in Antonia’s eyes, the way she recoiled from him, the sharp edge in her voice when she said she couldn't do this anymore."What did you do this time, Alessandro?" Aldo’s question was quiet, but the weight behind it hit like a blow.Alessandro dragged a hand down his face, his fingers trembling slightly. "I tried," he muttered. "I tried to do what you said—I asked her how her day was, I tried to be... different. But then—" He stopped himself, shame burning through his veins. "My anger got the best of me."Aldo exhaled sharply, his expression unreadable. "A
The man took a step forward.Antonia’s hands shook as she pressed the lock button, her breaths coming out in short, panicked gasps. Click. The doors locked.But then—click.The locks disengaged on their own.Her heart pounded in her chest. No, no, no… She scrambled to press the button again. Click. Locked.But just as quickly—click. Unlocked.A cold wave of dread crashed over her as she turned her head, only to see the man now standing mere inches away from the driver’s side door. His masked face was void of expression, his dark eyes drilling into her like he could see straight into her fear.Her hands trembled as she frantically tried locking the car again, but before she could react, the door swung open on its own.And in that split second—he was inside.A sharp blade pressed against the soft skin of her throat, forcing a strangled gasp from her lips."Drive."The single command slithered from the man’s mouth, his voice deep, devoid of emotion. The knife against her neck told her th
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 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
The sky outside was bruised with twilight when we returned home, the last strands of golden sun retreating behind the hills. The house smelled like warm bread and rosemary. Roosevelt had outdone herself.But Alessandro didn't let me walk in alone.He carried me up the stairs, past curious staff who respectfully looked away, and into our bedroom—his steps careful, like I might break if the floor creaked too loudly beneath us.Once inside, he gently lowered me onto the bed, adjusting pillows behind my back like he’d done it a thousand times. He hovered, unsure, his hands twitching at his sides like he wanted to do more but didn’t know how.“Do you need water?” he asked, voice unusually soft. “Tea? Something sweet?”I blinked up at him. “I’m okay… just tired.”He gave a slow nod, then moved toward the corner of the room, where an armchair sat forgotten. He didn’t sit at first. Just stood there, staring.At me.At my belly.At everything he didn’t know how to say.Finally, he spoke—so qui