40
Mia
With my hands trembling, I knock against the polished wood of my father's mansion door––a place I once called home––hoping to find some comfort in the only home I have left.
The door creaks open, and I step into the dimly lit living room. It all feels distant and cold. My father's stern glare meets mine. It's clear that he's surprised to see me, and I can't help but feel a pang of apprehension as I stand before him, unsure of how he'll react to my unexpected visit.
"I need to talk to you, Dad," I manage to say, barely above a whisper.
His eyes narrow. "Make it quick," he demands in a clipped tone.
Taking a deep breath, I gather every ounce of courage to pour my heart out. I share everything, hoping for a glimmer of understanding, a shred of compassion, just anything to tell me that I’m not alone in this world.
But as my words flow out, I’m met only by silence and the steely resolve in his eyes. I realize then that the harsh man who raised me remains unchanged.
"I'm not even sure how I could get pregnant," I protest. "I've been on the pill for over five years, never missing a day."
"Don Antonio only cared about two things when he agreed for his son to marry you." My father begins dismissively. "You needed to be pure, not some whore off the streets, and he wanted grandkids."
His words confuse me even more. "What does that have to do with anything?" I stammer, struggling to comprehend what he’s telling me.
"I knew you wouldn't be ready to have kids. Hell, I wasn't even sure if the bastard would sleep with you," he continues, dripping with contempt. "But I did know that you wouldn't get pregnant on the damn pills Karen insisted you take."
His words are beginning to sink in slowly. "But how?" I can't help but ask, my mind racing with a million questions.
"Like the pharmacist is going to tell me no?" He laughs sadistically, the sound grating on my nerves. Tears welling in my eyes, but I refuse to cry in front of him.
"Fucking women, grow a pair and toughen up," he snarls.
"That's against the law," I retort, my voice trembling with anger.
My father sneers at me. "I'm pretty sure half of what your husband imports through my docks is against the law, so don't get all high and mighty on me now that you're the don’s whore—you’re still a useless nothing, just like your mother was. But you will make this right—do whatever he tells you. You got pregnant. You did your part by spreading your legs. It's on Don Sebastiano if he wants to get rid of it."
My heart sinks at his cruelty, and his betrayal cuts deep. "Why? Why would you do this?" I choke, my voice cracking with emotion.
He scoffs, waving away my words with a dismissive gesture. "Ignorance is not an excuse, Mia. You're a woman now. You should understand these things." A sob escapes my throat, but I swallow it down, knowing how much he despises me crying. "This is why you should have been a boy," he screams venomously, and before I can understand what's happening, I feel the sting of his hand across my face. I crumple to the ground, instinctively curling up to protect my stomach, my heart racing with fear and pain.
To him, it's not just about a pregnancy. It's a threat to his social stability, a debt he can't afford to bear. In his eyes, I'm nothing but a pawn in a game of power and control.
"I did my part to make sure you’d get knocked up. If he doesn't want it, you’ll get rid of it," he spits out, his leg lifting to kick me.
I brace myself for the blow, but Karen's voice pierces through the tension. "Don't," she shouts, rushing down the stairs. "She's pregnant!"
Now, I’m even more confused. Is she really defending me? Maybe the blow to my head was harder than I thought. I'm either hallucinating or unconscious and making up this Karen scenario in my mind.
My father's words hit me like a second slap in the face, each one more hateful than the last. "He doesn't want the bastard, so I'll take care of it."
Karen throws herself over me, like a mother protecting her child. This sudden intervention catches me off guard.
Her outburst startles even him, but he quickly recovers by turning his fury toward her. "Stay the hell out of this."
I can see the fear in her eyes as she hesitates before standing up, her voice trembling as she steps toward my father, her defiance surprising the hell out of both of us. "No, I will not allow you to harm an innocent child," she says firmly. I realize she doesn't want the baby to be hurt. And neither do I. It's the most selfless thing I've ever seen her do.
Dad waves his hand at Karen, dismissing her with a gesture as if he couldn't be bothered to argue back with her, or maybe she wears the pants in the relationship. I'm not sure.
He turns to Julio, who is standing close by. "Lock her up. She is not to leave her room unless it is to get rid of that thing," he spits out in disgust.
"Keeping me incarcerated won't change my mind about keeping my baby," I plead, my voice trembling as tears well in my eyes. "Please, just let me go."
Deep down, I knew coming here was a mistake. What was I even thinking? I should have just jumped on a plane and left the state, maybe going back to New York.
He shakes his head, his expression hardening. "You'll stay here until you come to your senses, Mia. I won't have you ruining everything we've worked for." Julio's grip on my arm is tight as he lifts me from the ground, practically dragging me up the stairs. When we reach my bedroom door, he shoves me inside before the door slams shut behind me. I hear the distinct click of the lock from the outside. My door never locked from the inside––Dad made sure of that.
Tears stream down my cheeks, staining my face with anguish. I'm lying on this rock-hard mattress, wishing Sebastiano's arms would magically appear and whisk me away from this mess. This bed feels like a slab of concrete compared to the cozy one we share. Or rather, we once shared. Despite the pain he's caused me, he's all I can think about until I cry myself to sleep.
I stir from my uneasy slumber as the door creaks open, the sound grating against my ears like nails on a chalkboard. With blurry eyes, I squint toward the doorway as Karen's voice echoes through the room.
"Mia, are you awake? Mia?"
I struggle to shake off the remnants of sleep, my mind still a bit foggy. "Karen, is that you?" I manage to mumble.
A moment of tense silence passes before Karen responds sincerely. "I brought you something to eat and drink." Her voice echoes softly in the dimly lit room.
My instincts scream at me to be cautious and not let my guard down. So I politely decline her offer. "No thanks," I reply.
Karen rushes to assure me. "It's sealed, Mia, I swear. I didn't tamper with anything." Her eyes flick nervously toward the door, relaying her unease. In her outstretched hands, she holds a small bag of potato chips, the packaging still intact, and an unopened can of soda.
"Why the sudden change of heart?" I question, eyeing the snacks in her hands with suspicion. It's unlike Karen to offer me junk food. She's always been the one enforcing strict diets and starvation eating habits. "You never let me eat junk food before, so why now?" I ask, my voice tinged with skepticism as I closely inspect the unopened bag of chips and soda.
Her expression is tinged with guilt. "I... I know I've never let you eat this before, but... things are different now," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "You need to eat something."
"Since when do you care about me?" I shoot back, unable to shake the feeling that there's more to her sudden change in behavior than meets the eye.
Hunger gnaws at my stomach, urging me to relent. So I accept the snacks from her outstretched hand, my fingers trembling as I examine them for any signs of tampering.
"It's not what you think," she says, her voice softening slightly.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I fire back, my anger bubbling up. "You've always been horrible to me, teaming up with Dad to beat me up and starve me my whole life."
"There's a lot you don't know, but I am sorry I mistreated you," she says, and for a moment, I almost buy her sincerity.
"Well, tell me then, or don't waste your time trying to be nice now."
"I know I haven't always been the best mother figure," she admits, and I can't help but snort. She's been a terrible role model. "But the plan was for you to be the top choice for possible suitors.”
"I hit the jackpot when I scored the mighty mafioso boss," I scoff, flipping the tab of the soda can and chugging down the warm liquid in one go. "So, you tortured me my whole life for my benefit? He didn't even choose a wife until a few months ago?"
Riddle me that, Karen.
"You don't understand. While we always hoped for the best man for you, Don Antonio knew Sebastiano wouldn't settle down so quickly. He made it clear years ago that he would do what he had to, in order to make his son settle down, to take over his position. So, I always made sure that you had everything going for you––the hottest clothes and makeup, the best body, anything that would make you stand out." Her hands fidget on her lap, twisting together nervously as she struggles to find the right words. "And when Don Antonio asked about you, the way your dad's eyes lit up... I'm not sure what your father would have done if he chose another bride," she confesses.
“When did he ask about me? How long has this been planned?” I press.
“Shortly after you left for Juilliard,” she reveals, sounding remorseful. “That's why your dad had his men watch you closely and why he would show up whenever your friends made plans with you. Your father wanted to make sure you didn’t mess up this arrangement. He never wanted to let you go away to school, but I begged him to let you go. He finally listened when I told him it's the best school, and we need to keep up appearances.”
Karen is the only reason I was able to leave home, granted under secure protection, but still.
Wow! I never knew that she cared.
“And I'm not sure if you know this, but I always wanted babies. I wanted a huge family,” Karen confesses. “But your father refused. He said he couldn't risk having another girl. To him, having another girl was an embarrassment he wasn’t willing to endure. He refused to grant me the one thing I wanted more than anything in this world," Karen continues, her voice strained with emotion. "And now that you're pregnant,” she pauses, taking a shallow breath of air. “I will do anything in my power to make sure your baby is safe. I'm just sorry I didn't do a good job with you,” she admits, quickly swiping away a tear. She stands abruptly. “Are you finished? I need to throw out the evidence so your dad doesn't know,” she says, reaching out her hands to take the empty soda can and snack wrapper.
"I'll try to bring you more after he goes to bed," Karen offers, opening the door. With the door ajar, I catch snippets of a heated argument downstairs. Is Bash here? Did he come to apologize and take me home?
"Stay here," Karen insists, locking the door behind her as she quickly leaves.
"No, don't lock me in here, please," I beg, rushing to the door and pounding my fists against it. The sound echoes through the room, a desperate plea for freedom.
I pound the door until my hands hurt, only stopping when I hear the unmistakable sound of the door unlocking.
I grab the knob and fling the door open, hoping to see Bash standing on the other side. Instead, I come face to face with the last person I expected.
"I'm here to bring you home, princess," he says, reaching out to grab my arm.