37. Bianca
37
BIANCA
M y heart pounds and my mind reels as I try to process the events of the last few hours. It’s like a nightmare, a terrible, twisted dream that I can’t seem to wake up from.
My father, storming Rork’s estate with an army of his men and Sicura men. The sound of gunfire and screams, the sight of bodies falling to the ground like broken dolls, my father threatening to kill Rork.
And then, being torn from the arms of the man I love with all my heart and soul.
It’s too much, too painful to bear, and as I sit in the car, watching the familiar landscape blur past the window, I can feel tears welling up in my eyes, the sobs building in my throat like a scream.
“Papa, please,” I manage to choke out, my voice hoarse and brittle. “You don’t understand. Rork… he’s not what you think. He’s changed, he’s?—”
But my father cuts me off with a sharp, dismissive wave of his hand, “Don’t be naive, Bianca. That man is a master manipulator. He’s just using you, can’t you see that?”
I feel a surge of anger rising up inside me, hot and fierce and uncontrollable. How dare he? How dare he presume to know my own mind, my own heart?
“I’m twenty years old, Papa!” I shout, my fists clenching at my sides. “I’m not a child anymore. I know what I want, and what I want is Rork.”
But my father just shakes his head, his expression hard and unyielding. “Don’t you dare raise your voice at me, mia figlia . You don’t know anything. You’re still my little girl, and it’s my job to protect you. Even if it’s from yourself.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing, can’t believe the arrogance, the sheer fucking audacity of this man who claims to love me.
“Protect me?” I spit, my voice dripping with venom. “Is that what you call it? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks a whole lot like kidnapping.”
My father’s jaw clenches as he turns to glare at me. “I did what I had to do. What any father would do in my position. Do you understand the disgusting photos he was sending of you to me? Do you know what that was doing to my heart? To your mother?”
That normally would have been enough to get me to back down, but I’m not backing down. Not this time, not ever again.
“If you really wanted to protect me, why did you marry me off in the first place?” I demand, my eyes blazing with fury and betrayal, my nails digging into my palms. “Why did you trade me like a piece of fucking property?”
Papa flinches, as if I’ve struck him. But I don’t care. I’m too angry, too hurt to feel anything but the white-hot rage that's consuming me from the inside out.
“You will not curse at me,” Papa says in a low voice, anger lacing through it. “I am your father and I deserve respect.”
I laugh, a harsh, bitter sound that scrapes against my throat like broken glass. “I would respect you more if you turn this car around and take me back to Rork. Take me back to him, or I swear to God, Papa, I’ll never forgive you.”
Papa shrugs, seemingly unbothered by my threat. “I can live with that, as long as I know you’re safe and away from that piece of shit.”
I open my mouth to argue back, but the car pulls up to the estate. A swell of bitter, resentful anger rises up inside me. The sight of my mother and sisters waiting anxiously on the front steps, their faces etched with relief and concern, only serves to fuel the rage that’s burning within me.
How dare they? How dare they stand there, acting like they care about me, when they’re the ones who sent me away in the first place? My parents fucking sold me to the highest bidder and are now trying to get me back? No. It doesn’t work that way.
I get out of the car, ignoring my father’s outstretched hand and the wounded look on his face. I don’t want his help, don’t want anything from him or anyone else in this godforsaken family.
My mother rushes toward me, her arms open wide and her eyes shining with tears. “Bianca, oh, thank God you’re alright! We were so worried, we?—”
But I cut her off with a glare. “Don’t touch me,” I snarl, my voice low and dangerous. She pushed Rork away from her all those years ago, and now they tore me apart from him. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
“Bianca, that’s enough!” My father shouts, outraged, his face red with anger. “You will not disrespect your mother that way, do you hear me?”
But I’m beyond caring, beyond any sense of filial duty or obedience. These people, this family… they’re nothing to me now. Nothing but a bunch of traitors and liars.
They’re all fucking guilty.
“Go to hell,” I spit, my eyes blazing with fury as I sweep my gaze over the shocked, stricken faces of my mother and sisters. “All of you, just… go to hell.”
And with that, I turn on my heel and storm up the stairs, my heart pounding and my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. I can hear Sofia calling after me, her voice high and desperate as she chases me down the hallway.
“Bianca, wait! Please, just talk to me. Are you alright? Did he… did he hurt you?”
I whirl around, my hand clenching into a fist at my side as I fight the urge to lash out and strike at my sister.
“Am I alright ?” I repeat, my voice dripping with venom and sarcasm. “No, Sofia, I’m not fucking alright . I was just dragged away from my husband’s home— my home —by our father and your husband’s men. The Sicura men slaughtered good, innocent people tonight. People who didn’t deserve to die.”
Sofia flinches, her blue eyes widening with shock and dismay. But I don’t give her a chance to respond or give her the satisfaction of seeing the tears that are welling up in my eyes. Instead, I turn and stalk up the stairs and down the hallway, slamming the door to my childhood bedroom behind me with a force that rattles the windows and shakes the very foundations of the house.
And then, as the silence settles around me like a suffocating blanket, I finally let myself break. I collapse onto the bed, my body racked with sobs as I bury my face in the pillow and let the grief and the rage and the despair pour out of me in an endless, bitter flood.
Because Rork… he’s gone, torn away from me by the very people who claim to love me, the very family that I once would have died to protect.
I miss him so much it hurts.
* * *
Days blur together in a haze of misery and despair, each one bleeding into the next. I barely leave my room, barely eat or sleep or breathe, so consumed am I by the aching emptiness that Rork’s absence has left in my life.
Papa is worried about me, and I know that he’s convinced that my distress is the result of some twisted psychological game that Rork must have played on me. But he’s wrong, so very wrong, and I can’t seem to make him understand.
“Bianca, please,” he says one day, his voice low and pleading as he sits on the edge of my bed. “Talk to me. Tell me what that monster did to you, what lies he fed you to make you think you loved him.”
I sit up, my eyes blazing with a fury that’s been building inside me for days. “He didn’t do anything to me, Papa. Rork didn’t lie to me, didn’t manipulate me. He loves me, and I love him. It’s as simple as that.”
My father shakes his head, his expression a mix of pity and disbelief. “You’re confused, baby. You don’t know what you’re saying. That man… he’s incapable of love.”
I want to scream, rage, rant, and tear my hair out in frustration. But I know it’s useless. My father will never see Rork the way I do. He’ll never understand the depth of the love we shared. So I just turn away, my shoulders shaking with silent sobs as I bury my face in my pillow and wish for the millionth time that I could just disappear, fade away into nothingness and escape the pain that’s tearing me apart from the inside out.
But if my father’s attempts to reach me are frustrating, my mother’s are downright infuriating . She comes to my room one afternoon, her face a mask of concern and sympathy that I can see right through.
“Bianca, honey, I know you’re hurting. But you have to understand, Rork… he’s a bad man. He’s done terrible things, hurt so many people, your father and me included. We just want to protect you from him.”
My eyes narrow to slits as I glare at my mother. The woman who was once Rork’s friend, who threw him away when he was just trying to protect her. “Protect me? Like you protected me when you married me off to a man I barely knew?”
My mother flinches, her eyes widening with shock and hurt. But I don’t care. I don’t feel anything but a savage, vindictive pleasure at the pain I see on her face.
“By your logic, Papa is a bad man too because he’s done terrible things and hurt so many people. Rork included.” I shake my head. “He was just trying to protect you, but you allowed Papa to slice his face and permanently scar him. What a good friend you are.”
Mama gapes at me, unable to say a word.
“Get out,” I say in a low, dangerous voice. “Get out of my room, and don’t come back. I don’t want to speak to you.”
She opens her mouth as if to argue, but something in my expression must convince her of the futility of it. She stands up, her shoulders slumping in defeat as she makes her way to the door. But before she leaves, she turns back to me, her eyes shining with tears.
“I’m sorry, Bianca. I’m so, so sorry. I hope someday you’ll understand that everything we did, we did out of love for you.”
I just shake my head, my lips curling into a sneer. “Love? You don’t know the meaning of the word.”
And with that, she’s gone, the door closing softly behind her and leaving me alone with my grief and my rage and my shattered, broken heart.
* * *
It starts with the nausea, a constant, churning sickness that has me bolting from my bed every morning to empty the meager contents of my stomach into the toilet. At first, I think it’s just the stress of everything that’s happened.
But when the sickness shows no signs of abating, a new suspicion begins to take root in my mind. A suspicion that’s only reinforced by the realization that I can’t remember the last time I had my period.
Fuck. Shit .
With a growing sense of panic, I try to think back and count to when Rork and I made love. But I can’t even count the number of times—we’ve been going at it like goddamn rabbits since the night Rork was injured.
I need to know, but I’m trapped in this goddamn house with no way to obtain the answers I desperately crave. My father won’t let me leave, rightfully thinking I would immediately rush back to Rork’s side. I have no friends who could help me.
Except… there is one person who’s always treated me with warmth and gentleness and has kept my secrets in the past.
Lucia, the maid who’s been with our family for as long as I can remember. She’s always had a soft spot for me.
I find her in the kitchen one afternoon, humming softly to herself as she chops vegetables for the evening meal. Before I can talk myself out of it, I pull her aside.
“Lucia, I need your help,” I say in a low voice. “Can you do something for me? But I need you to keep it a secret.”
She looks at me, her brow furrowed with concern as she takes in the desperate, pleading look on my face. And then, slowly, she nods.
“Of course, Miss Bianca. Anything you need, just say the word.”
My heart pounds in my chest as I lean in close and whisper the words that will change my life forever.
“I need you to bring me a pregnancy test and I need you to do it now, before anyone else finds out.”
Lucia’s eyes widen, her hand flying to her mouth as she stares at me in shock. But to her credit, she doesn’t ask questions or demand explanations or offer judgment.
Instead, she simply nods, her expression one of quiet understanding as she reaches out to squeeze my hand.
“I’ll take care of it, Miss Bianca. Don’t you worry about a thing.”
I wait for what feels like an eternity, my nerves stretched taut as I pace the length of my room. When Lucia finally returns, a small, nondescript bag clutched in her hand, I feel a rush of relief so intense, it nearly brings me to my knees.
“Thank you, Lucia,” I breathe as I take the test from her with shaking hands, my breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. I rush into the bathroom and lock the door behind me.
And then, as I sit there on the edge of the tub, waiting for the results that will determine the course of my future, I feel a strange, unexpected calm washing over me, a certainty that settles deep in my bones and fills me with a peace I haven’t known in longer than I can remember.
Because if this test is positive, if there is a child growing inside me, it’s a part of Rork, a piece of the man I love with every beat of my heart.
I look down at the little plastic stick and see the two pink lines that confirm the truth I’ve known all along. A rush of joy courses through me, so intense it takes my breath away.
“Oh, my God,” I breathe, clapping a hand to my mouth.
We’re going to have a baby.
But I suddenly feel a sharp pang of fear, because as much as I want to shout my joy from the rooftops and share this incredible news, I know that I can’t. Not yet. Not until I’ve found a way to keep my baby safe from the man who would do anything to destroy it.
Papa.
I can only imagine his reaction if he found out about my pregnancy, if he knew that the child growing inside me was the product of my love for Rork O’Malley. He would be furious, enraged beyond reason or sanity. He might insist that I abort the pregnancy in order to ensure nothing permanently ties Rork and me together.
The thought is like a knife to the heart, a searing pain that brings hot tears to my eyes. I could never do that. I can’t sacrifice my child just to appease my father.
Tucking the pregnancy test away in the depths of my dresser drawer, I make a decision. I will suffer in silence, keeping my secret close to my heart.
It’s not easy. The morning sickness is already a bitch, and the bone-deep weariness that seems to seep into every cell of my body is miserable.
But I push through it because I know that I have to be strong and find a way to protect this tiny, precious life that’s depending on me for everything.
And I have to find a way to get back to Rork.