The Don's Legal Eagle's Baby: An Enemies to Lovers Mafia Romance

41. Griselda

Isettled into the plush armchair, my mind preoccupied with thoughts of Emilio”s safety. My mother, who had been observing my restless demeanor, finally broached the subject, her concern etched across her features.

”What”s going on? Why were all those cars following you earlier?”

I offered her a strained smile, attempting to ease her worries while grappling with my apprehensions.

”It”s just a precaution, Mom,” I reassured her, my voice tinged with a hint of unease. ”I”ve been dealing with some complicated matters lately.”

She nodded understandingly, her gaze softening as she reached out to clasp my hand in hers.

”You know you can always confide in me, right?” she murmured, her eyes searching mine for any signs of reluctance.

I hesitated, the weight of my concealed truths pressing heavily upon me. Despite my lingering frustrations at her previous silence, I knew that my mother had her reasons for keeping certain details from me.

With a resigned sigh, I decided it was time to let her in on the events that had unfolded in my life.

I told my mom everything about Emilio and the whole mafia mess, how it was all dangerous and complicated. Her face changed from worry to surprise as I spilled the beans about the power struggles and shady dealings.

I didn”t hold back about my relationship with Emilio either, how we”d fallen for each other despite the chaos around us. And when I dropped the bomb that I was pregnant, my mom”s jaw practically hit the floor, a mix of shock and concern written all over her face.

As I spoke, I noticed her hands fidgeting nervously in her lap, her gaze never wavering from mine.

I finished recounting the series of events that had led to Emilio”s current predicament, and a somber silence hung heavily in the air. Reaching out, I gently squeezed my mother”s hand, seeking comfort and understanding in her presence.

”Griselda, you need to leave Emilio,” my mother said with urgency, her voice tinged with concern.

I was taken aback.

”What?” I exclaimed, unable to comprehend her sudden insistence.

She stood up, facing me directly, her hands grasping my forearms.

”Nothing good ever comes out of those involved in the mafia. You know that,” she implored, her eyes brimming with worry.

I felt a surge of frustration.

”But he”s not like that, Mom,” I countered, my voice rising in defense of Emilio. ”He doesn”t even want to be in the mafia.”

My mother”s grip tightened, her expression fraught with fear.

”Ma è ancora nella mafia, vero? (But he”s still in the mafia, isn”t he?)” she pressed, her tone quivering with anxiety.

I pulled away, shaking my head in disbelief.

”Yes, but...” I began, attempting to explain Emilio”s situation, but my mother cut me off, her voice resolute.

”He”s lying to you, Griselda. You can”t trust him,” she asserted, her eyes searching mine, filled with a mixture of apprehension and desperation.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my emotions.

”Mom, I understand your concern, but you have to believe me,” I implored, meeting her gaze with determination. ”Emilio is not like his father. He”s different.”

My mother”s features softened, but the worry remained etched in her expression.

”è solo che non voglio che tu ti faccia male, Tesoro (I just don”t want you to get hurt, darling),” she admitted, her voice laced with a mix of fear and tenderness. ”I”ve seen enough pain in my life. I don”t want you to go through the same.”

I reached out and held her hand, the weight of her concern settling heavily in my heart.

”I know, Mom. But I love him,” I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. ”And I believe in him.”

I held my mother”s hand firmly, a torrent of emotions churning within me.

”I understand, Mom. But it”s not as simple as you think. Leaving the mafia is not an easy feat,” I explained, my voice tinged with frustration.

My mother shook her head, her expression etched with disapproval.

”I still don”t approve of this, Griselda,” she reiterated, her worry palpable in her tone.

My patience waned, and I couldn”t help but retort,

”You shouldn”t judge Emilio when you don”t even know him, Mom. Just because Dad and his father deceived you doesn”t mean Emilio will do the same to me.”

Her sigh was heavy with the weight of her concern.

”I”m just afraid, Griselda. I can”t bear the thought of something happening to you,” she confessed, her voice tinged with vulnerability.

”I understand where your fear is coming from,” I replied, my tone softening as I squeezed her hand gently. ”But I know Emilio. And even if I were to leave him, would I be able to raise our child by myself?”

Her gaze softened, and I could see the conflict within her. She pulled me into a tight embrace, her voice barely above a whisper. ”I just want what”s best for you, my dear.”

I held onto her, the warmth of her embrace a balm to my troubled heart.

”I know, Mom. I know,” I murmured.

I thought I was getting through to my mom, but our conversation escalated into a fiery argument, my mother”s worry transforming into frustration.

”But what if he can”t leave the mafia, Griselda? What if he”s in too deep now, leading the whole operation?” she implored, her eyes blazing with an intensity that matched her concern.

I took a step forward, my frustration boiling over.

”You don”t even know him, Mom. You”re judging him without even giving him a chance!” I retorted, my voice rising with every word.

She stood her ground, her features etched with worry and determination.

”I can”t just stand by and watch you make the same mistakes I did. I won”t let that happen,” she declared, her voice resolute with a tinge of desperation.

My hands clenched into fists, my body trembling with a mix of anger and exasperation.

”I”m not you, and he”s not Dad,” I shot back, my tone defiant as I met her gaze head-on.

Her eyes flashed with a mix of concern and frustration, her words seething with an unspoken fear.

”Sei mia figlia e non ti permetterò di rovinarti la vita come ho fatto con la mia (You”re my daughter, and I won”t let you ruin your life as I did mine),” she declared, her voice thick with emotion.

I felt my resolve wavering, the weight of her worry and past experiences pressing down on me.

”I”m not going to ruin my life! I love him, and I”m not going to give up on him,” I asserted, my voice laced with determination.

Tears welled up in her eyes, her body tensing with a mix of anguish and defiance.

”You”re making a mistake, Griselda. I can”t let you do this,” she murmured, her voice tinged with a raw sense of helplessness.

I stood my ground. My resolve was unwavering despite my rising emotions.

”I”m not going to deprive my child of a father just because you”re scared,” I declared.

My mother”s expression contorted with a mix of shock and defiance.

”You didn”t need your father, and you turned out fine, didn”t you?” she insisted.

I couldn”t believe what I was hearing. With a cold glare, I retorted, ”I wasn”t fine, Mom. I was bullied for not having a dad, and I felt envious every time I saw other kids playing with theirs. I didn”t tell you,” I confessed, the memories resurfacing with a painful clarity. ”Don”t mistake my silence for happiness or strength.”

Her eyes widened in shock as my words hung heavy in the air.

”I had no idea, Griselda,” she whispered, her voice laced with a raw sense of regret and sorrow. ”I didn”t mean to overlook your pain.”

I shook my head, the burden of the past weighing heavily on my heart.

”I know you didn”t, Mom. But I can”t let my child go through the same thing,” I murmured, my voice tinged with a sense of bittersweetness.

”I love him, Mom,” I stated firmly for the nth time. ”I can”t just leave him.”

My mother”s brows furrowed with a mix of concern and apprehension.

”But what if he can”t leave the mafia behind, Griselda? What then?” She kept repeating.

I bit my lip, the weight of her words settling heavily on my shoulders.

”I don”t know what the future holds,” I confessed, my voice tinged with a sense of uncertainty. ”But I’m not going to leave him.”