6. Shock and Devastation
Chapter six
Shock and Devastation
Amelia
T he past month feels like a fever dream—an exhausting cycle of heated arguments and moments of wild, uncontrollable passion. Matteo is a storm, all-consuming and relentless, and I am caught in his wake, struggling not to drown. Every day is a battle. He insists on knowing where I am at all times, his jealousy flaring at even the most innocuous interactions. I push back, refusing to let him control me, but he always finds a way to pull me back into his orbit. Yet for all our fights, the nights are a different story. When Matteo looks at me with that dark, smoldering intensity, it’s as if all the anger between us ignites into something else entirely.
I hate him for it, for the way my body betrays me, for the way I can’t help but crave the fire he brings. But even in those moments, when his lips are on mine and the world fades away, there’s a part of me that remains guarded. A part of me that knows this can’t last. The dizziness I’ve been feeling isn’t going away. My body feels different, more sensitive, and I’ve been waking up with an inexplicable nausea that lingers through the morning. At first, I chalked it up to stress, the endless tension of living in Matteo’s shadow. But now, as I sit with my hand resting on my stomach, I can’t ignore the possibility any longer.
The next morning, I slip out of the house under the guise of needing some air. Matteo’s men don’t stop me, though their sharp gazes follow me until I’m out of sight. I head to a small clinic on the outskirts of the city, where the nurse doesn’t ask questions. When the results come back, my heart stops.
I’m pregnant. The world tilts, and for a moment, I feel like I can’t breathe. Tears prick my eyes as I clutch the paper in my hand, my mind racing with what this means. I should tell Matteo. He has a right to know. But the thought of his reaction—whether it’s anger, possessiveness, or something else entirely—makes my stomach churn.
I need time to think, to figure out what this means for me, for us, for the life growing inside me. The realization doesn’t settle easily with me. My body feels different now, more alive and fragile at the same time. I need to tell him before he finds out from one of his men. But secrets have a way of growing, of pressing against the walls you build around them until they threaten to burst.
I walk to his office late one evening, the door is open to reveal the soft glow of the desk lamp casting shadows across his sharp features. He’s deep in thought, his fingers steepled as he studies a report in front of him. The weight of telling him sits heavy in my chest as I stand in the doorway, gathering my courage.
“Matteo,” I say softly, stepping into the room.
He looks up, his piercing gaze locking onto mine. There’s a flicker of surprise in his eyes before his expression hardens, his defenses snapping into place. “What is it?”
“I.. Um.” I swallow hard, my hands trembling as I step closer. The words stick in my throat, but I force them out. “I’m pregnant.”
For a moment, time seems to stop. Matteo’s expression freezes, his sharp features unreadable as the words hang in the air between us. Then, slowly, he rises from his chair, his movements deliberate and controlled.
“What did you say?” His voice is low, almost a whisper, but the intensity behind it sends a shiver down my spine.
“I’m pregnant,” I repeat, my voice steadier this time.
He closes the distance between us in two strides, his eyes searching mine as if trying to confirm the truth for himself. “You’re sure?”
I nod, my breath hitching as his hand settles gently against my stomach. The touch is unexpected, almost tender, and it sends a jolt of emotion through me. For a moment, neither of us speaks. The silence is heavy, charged with a mixture of fear, uncertainty, and something else—something I can’t quite name.
“Well, this changes everything,” Matteo finally says, his voice rough.
“It doesn’t have to. This doesn’t mean I’m going to fall into line, Matteo. It doesn’t mean you get to control me even more than you already do.”
His jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing. “You think I’d use this to control you?”
“Wouldn’t you?” I challenge, meeting his gaze head-on.
For a moment, he doesn’t respond, he only takes a step back, running a hand through his hair in a rare display of frustration.
“This isn’t about control. This is about protecting you. Protecting the child.”
The words hit me harder than I expect, and I have to look away to hide the tears threatening to spill. “I don’t need your protection,” I say, though the words feel hollow even as I say them.
“Whether you think you need it or not doesn’t matter,” Matteo replies, his tone firm. “You’re mine, Amelia. And now, so is this child.”
His possessiveness sends a spark of anger through me, but there’s something else beneath it, something almost desperate. As much as I hate to admit it, I know he means what he says.
“I don’t want to be another weapon in your arsenal. I won’t let you use this against me.”
His expression softens slightly, and for a moment, I see a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. “This isn’t a weapon, Amelia. It’s... it’s us.”
The words catch me off guard, and for the first time, I see a glimpse of the man behind the walls he’s built. But before I can respond, the door bursts open, one of Matteo’s men rushing in with a panicked expression.
“Boss,” he says urgently. “We’ve got a problem. It’s Luca.”
The mention of Luca’s name makes Matteo’s demeanor shift instantly, his expression hardening into the ruthless mask I know all too well.
“Stay here,” he orders, his voice sharp as he moves toward the door.
“Matteo—”
“I mean it, Amelia,” he snaps, turning back to pin me with a fierce look. “You’re not leaving this room.”
Before I can argue, he’s gone, the door slamming shut behind him. I sink into the nearest chair, my hands trembling as I press them against my stomach. The fear I feel now isn’t just for myself, it’s for the life growing inside me.
The fragile hope that’s somehow taken root in the chaos of my life with Matteo. I don’t know what’s coming next, but one thing is certain: nothing will ever be the same. One hand resting on my stomach. I think about the child growing inside me, the fragile life caught in the storm of my existence with Matteo. Can I bring a child into this world? Into his world? The thought terrifies me. I find myself torn between the life I’m carrying and the life I’ve been forced into. The hatred I feel for Matteo is still there, simmering beneath the surface, but it’s complicated now by moments of unexpected tenderness. The way he looks at me when he thinks I’m not watching, the way his touch lingers just a moment too long.
A few weeks later, the tension between us finally snaps. Matteo corners me in the garden, his expression unreadable as he blocks my path.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says, his tone calm but laced with something sharper.
I cross my arms, meeting his gaze with a defiance I don’t entirely feel. “Maybe I just don’t want to see you.”
His lips twitch into something that’s not quite a smile. “I don’t believe that.”
“Believe whatever you want,” I say, turning to leave.
He grabs my wrist, gently but firmly, pulling me back toward him. “What’s going on with you, Amelia?” he demands, his voice softer now, almost concerned.
“Nothing,” I lie, refusing to meet his eyes.
“You’re a terrible liar,” he mutters, his fingers tightening around my wrist. “Tell me.”
“I’m fine, Matteo. Just tired.”
He studies me for a long moment, his dark eyes searching mine. Then, to my surprise, he releases me, stepping back with a sigh.
“Fine,” he says, his voice clipped. “But don’t think for a second that I’m not paying attention.”
As he walks away, I feel a pang of guilt, quickly followed by frustration. Matteo has no right to make me feel this way, no right to occupy so much space in my mind. But he does. I’m walking through the garden, seeking a moment of peace, when a explosion rocks the estate. The ground shakes beneath me, and I barely have time to scream when another explosion hits right beside me, smoke and something burning grazes my shoulder. The air is thick with smoke, the acrid smell burning my lungs as I stumble forward.
“Amelia!” Matteo’s voice cuts through the noise, and I turn to see him running toward me, his expression frantic.
Before he can reach me, a third explosion erupts, sending debris flying in every direction. Pain blooms in my side as I’m thrown backward onto the ground, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs.
“Amelia!” Matteo’s arms are around me in an instant, his face pale as he checks me for injuries. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine”
“Please don’t argue with me.”
His voice shaking with barely contained rage. As he carries me inside, a sharp pain lances through my abdomen, and I cry out, clutching my stomach.
“Amelia?” Matteo’s voice is filled with panic now, his hand covers mine. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper, tears streaming down my face. “Something’s wrong.”
The next moments are a blur of shouting and movement. I’m taken to a room, surrounded by unfamiliar faces, as the pain gets worse. And then, just as suddenly as it started, it stops. The room starts to get dark as my eyes close leaving me in darkness.
When I wake, the room is silent. Matteo is sitting beside me, his head in his hands. He looks up when he hears me stir, his eyes red and filled with something I’ve never seen before. He looks as if he’s been crying, I look at him with a questioning look.
“Amelia,” he says softly, his voice breaking.
“What happened?”
His silence is the answer I feared. I lost my child, I’m sure of it. The one thing that was keeping me together is gone. The weight of the loss hits me like a tidal wave, and I turn away from him, tears streaming down my face. I feel empty, hollow, like a part of me has been ripped away.
“I’m so sorry,” Matteo says, his voice thick with emotion. His hand reaches for mine, but I pull away, the pain too raw, too overwhelming.
His face hardens, a storm brewing behind his eyes. “Luca,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. “This was his doing.”
I shake my head, my tears falling harder. “Don’t make this about revenge,” I plead, my voice breaking. “This isn’t about him. It’s about what we lost.”
For a moment, Matteo’s mask cracks, and I see the man beneath the ruthless exterior. He sits beside me, his hand reaching out to take mine.
“I’ll protect you, Amelia,” he says, his voice raw. “I swear I’ll never let this happen again.”
I want to believe him. I want to believe that in this moment, we’re more than enemies, more than two people trapped in a web of power and hate. But the pain is too fresh, the wound too deep. So, I close my eyes, letting the darkness take me once more, knowing that nothing will ever be the same.
“Leave me alone,” I whisper, my voice shaking.
“Amelia—”
“Please, Matteo. Just go.”
For once, he listens. I hear the door close behind him, and I’m left alone with my grief, the shattered pieces of my heart scattered around me.