25. Alexis

25

Ihurry out of the bathroom, the positive pregnancy test wrapped in toilet paper and buried deep in the depths of my purse. My heart is pounding, my mind racing as I replay the last few minutes over and over again.

How could Damian and I have been so stupid?

I've never had to worry about birth control in the past. It just never crossed my mind since I wasn't having sex with Mark, and I figured that when we got married, I wouldn't need birth control.

And truthfully, I never thought to ask Damian whether he was being responsible. He probably thought I was on birth control.

Holy fuck. The consequences of our inability to communicate are staring me right in the face.

I hurriedly grab some tampons—although I won't need these for the next nine months—and quickly make my purchase, my hands shaking. I have to at least make it believable to the guard that I came in here for period products.

Nausea roils in my stomach, but I can't tell whether it's from the shock of the positive pregnancy test or the beginnings of morning sickness. I want to throw up, purge my body of this sudden, unwanted development. But I can't, not here in the middle of this dingy convenience store.

Cold air blasts me in the face as I leave the store and slide into the backseat of the car.

"Did you get everything you needed?" the security guard asks, his face red as he eyes my bag, the blue and green tampon box clearly visible against the plastic grocery bag.

I nod, pasting a weak smile on my face. "All good. Thank you."

As we drive off, my mind is still racing. What am I going to do? Part of me wants to keep this baby. This child will be the first real family I've had in almost two decades. I finally wouldn't be alone anymore.

But the thought of bringing a child into this world, where they could potentially grow up to be as fucked up as Damian and Nat, fills me with dread.

The idea of getting an abortion, though, makes me feel sick to my stomach. This is my child, a part of me. How could I just get rid of it?

But can I really be a good mother?

My own memories of my mother are so faint, and my experiences with foster mothers have been nothing short of awful. What if I end up just like them, incapable of providing the love and nurturing that a child needs?

Panic seizes me as I think about having to tell Damian. What if he's furious with me? What if he accuses me of trying to baby trap him? The very thought makes me feel sick to my stomach.

An even more horrible thought hits me then. What if Damian tries to take this baby away from me? He has unlimited funds, connections, and power as a Don. He's probably paid off numerous judges to get his own criminal convictions thrown out.

Who's to say he wouldn't do the same to take my child from me?

I have no home, no job, and a target on my back. Damian, on the other hand, has all the resources in the world. He could bury me in legal battles, use his influence to turn the system against me. I'd never stand a chance.

I'd lose my baby, the only family I've ever had.

Tears sting my eyes as the horrific reality of my situation sets in. I can't breathe, can't think straight. All I know is I have to protect this child, no matter what. Even if it means facing Damian's wrath. Even if it means going on the run, disappearing completely.

I'll do whatever it takes to keep my baby safe.

I consider making a run for it, just disappearing before Damian ever finds out about the pregnancy. I wouldn't be stupid this time and head to the Carters' house.

But I know that would be futile. He has the resources and connections to hunt me down, no matter where I try to hide. He's a Mafia Don with seemingly unlimited funds and influence. He could mobilize an entire army to search for me.

And even if I manage to evade him for a time, what kind of life would that be, constantly looking over my shoulder, terrified that he'll find me and take my baby away?

No, I can't run. I have to face this head-on, as terrifying as the thought is.

But I can't tell Damian. Not yet.

As the panic over telling Damian subsides, at least temporarily, my body is overcome with an overwhelming urge to eat something—anything—to settle my roiling stomach.

Once we get back to the house, I decide a few plain crackers or a piece of dry toast might be just what I need, so I head toward the kitchen.

But as I round the corner, I come face to face with a man I've never seen before. He's tall and imposing, with salt-and-pepper hair that gives him an air of authority. His brow is heavy, conveying a sense of perpetual scrutiny, and his nose is slightly crooked, as if it had been broken at some time. The lines that frame his mouth and eyes speak of a lifetime of hardship and struggle.

But despite his advancing age, there's an undeniable strength and vitality that radiates from him. His jawline remains sharp and defined, and the muscles in his neck stand out subtly beneath the fabric of his expensive, tailored suit.

But something about him sets my teeth on edge, my entire body instinctively telling me to get as far away from this man as possible.

"Can I help you?" he asks, his voice smooth and measured.

"I'm… I'm sorry, I was just looking for something to eat," I stammer, suddenly feeling very small and vulnerable.

"And who might you be?" the man inquires, his gaze piercing right through me. His face exudes an aura of danger and mystery. "I don't believe we've met before."

I put on my most convincing smile. "I'm Maria, Damian and Nat's cousin." I repeat the cover story that Nat and Damian had drilled into me, hoping my nerves don't betray the lie.

"Maria," the man says, his expression unreadable. "I'm Vincente Iacopelli, Damian and Natalia's uncle. I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you before. What brings you here?"

"Oh, you know, just visiting family," I reply, hoping my voice sounds casual enough. "And what about you? What brings you here?"

Vincente's gaze narrows slightly. "I'm here looking for Damian. Haven't you heard the news? Mario Rafa is dead, and his daughter Scarlett is now the Donna of The Brotherhood."

My blood runs cold at his words and my stomach heaves. Mario Rafa is… dead? And Scarlett has taken over? I'm not sure whether it's just pregnancy-related nausea or that the sheer gravity of the situation is overwhelming me. Either way, I can feel the color draining from my face.

This is the last thing I needed to hear.

If Vincente is looking for Damian, it can't be for any good reason.

"No, I'm afraid I hadn't heard that," I say, trying to sound more surprised than concerned. "That's quite a development."

Vincente's eyes narrow as he scrutinizes me from head to toe, his gaze almost predatory. The look makes me feel incredibly uncomfortable, as if he can see right through my "Maria" fa?ade.

It's almost as if he knows who I really am.

"Are you alright, my dear?" Vincente asks, his voice infuriatingly patronizing. "You look a bit… pale."

I swallow hard, desperately trying to maintain my composure. "I'm fine, just a bit under the weather, that's all," I lie, cursing the quaver in my voice.

Vincente hums noncommittally, his eyes still piercing into me. "I see. Well, I do hope you recover soon. I'd hate for you to miss any… important Family matters."

I want to throw up. The implications in his words are clear, and it sends a chill down my spine. Does Vincente know I'm not who I'm pretending to be?

He's toying with me, sizing me up, and I have no idea how to handle this increasingly precarious situation.

I need to get away from him, to find Damian and warn him about what's happening. But I also can't risk Vincente seeing through my ruse completely. One wrong move will put me and this baby in grave danger.

Just as I'm about to make my escape, a guard suddenly appears, hurrying toward me.

"Miss, you're needed upstairs immediately," he says urgently, his eyes darting nervously between me and Vincente.

I glance back at Vincente, who is watching me with a predatory gleam in his eyes, a chilling smile playing at his lips. The sight sends a shiver down my spine.

"Ah, rushing off already?" Vincente purrs, his gaze never leaving mine. "How unfortunate. I was so looking forward to getting to know you better, Maria."

The way he emphasizes my supposed name makes it clear that he sees right through my ruse. Panic rises within me, but I force myself to remain outwardly calm.

"Please excuse me," I say hastily, turning to follow the guard. "I'm needed elsewhere."

As I hurry away, I can't help but look back one last time.

Vincente is still watching me, that unsettling smile still on his face. It takes every ounce of my willpower not to break into a dead sprint.

The guard ushers me up the stairs and down a hallway, away from Vincente's prying eyes. Once we're a safe distance away, he leans in and murmurs, "Quel uomo è pericoloso."

I furrow my brow, not understanding the foreign words. "What does that mean?" I ask, a thread of anxiety in my voice.

The guard glances around cautiously before translating, "That man is dangerous."

My blood runs cold at his words. Dangerous? Why on earth would Damian want me to stay away from his own uncle?

"Why?" I press, my mind racing. "What has Vincente done?"

The guard shakes his head grimly. "I should not have said anything. Just trust that the Boss knows what he's doing."

But I can't simply accept that. Not when my safety—and the safety of the child I'm carrying—could be at stake.

"Please," I plead. "If Vincente is as dangerous as you say, I need to know why. I have a right to understand the risks I'm facing."

The guard hesitates, clearly torn. Finally, he sighs and says, "Mr. Vincente… he is a ruthless man. He has done many unspeakable things. He was the underboss before Mr. Damian's father died. He is close to The Brotherhood."

My heart hammers in my chest as the gravity of the situation sinks in. Vincente isn't just some benign relative—he's a dangerous criminal, someone Damian evidently wants me to avoid at all costs.

And yet, Damian never thought to tell me about this. He's kept me in the dark, leaving me vulnerable to Vincente's machinations. The realization fills me with a mix of fear and frustration.

There Damian goes again, with all his secrets. How can I trust him to keep me and this baby safe when he's clearly withholding crucial information? My stomach twists with worry and uncertainty.

The guard looks at me anxiously. "You will say nothing about what I've told you, sì?"

I nod shakily, my mind racing. If Damian has specifically warned his men about Vincente not seeing me, then he must know how dangerous the man is. And the way Vincente was looking at me? It fills me with a sense of dread I can't quite shake.

I can only hope that by putting some distance between Vincente and me, I'll be able to keep myself and my baby safe.

But something tells me this is only the beginning of the nightmare I've found myself in.