Chapter 41 Alina
ALINA
"Marco," I say, my voice soft. "You're back early."
He steps inside, letting the door shut behind him. I can see his jaw tighten. "We need to talk."
"What's wrong?" I ask, confused.
He takes a few steps forward. "You tell me, Alina. What's wrong?"
I search his face, unsure. "Marco, I don't understand—"
"Don't," he snaps, cutting me off. "Don't play innocent with me."
Shit. Did he find out? I made sure to cover my tracks when I bought the pregnancy tests. I even threw them out in separate trash cans because I was so nervous he'd find out before I wanted to tell him.
"Marco, you're scaring me. Just tell me what's going on."
He pulls out his phone and tosses it onto the couch. "Take a look. Go ahead."
I hesitate for a moment and then pick it up, swiping through the images on his screen.
With each swipe, I feel the color drain from my face.
"Marco, I can explain—"
"Explain?" His voice rises. "So it's true? You've been meeting with Sandra—behind my back after I asked you to stay away. Do you have any idea what this looks like? What it means?"
"It's not what you think," I say quickly, my voice trembling. "I swear to you, it's not."
He takes a step closer, towering over me. "Then what is it? Do you have any idea what seeing these photos did to me?" His voice drops dangerously low. "Seeing my woman—mine—sneaking around with someone who wants to destroy everything I've built?"
Oddly, relief floods through me that he doesn't know about the baby. Between the pregnancy, almost dying, and our recent push before elections, I'd almost forgotten about meeting Sandra. Maybe the part of me that felt guilty wanted to bury it.
"She offered me a job," I say. "I didn't take it, Marco. I didn't betray you or anything."
He scoffs. "You didn't betray me? Alina, you lied to me. You hid this from me. Do you know how that feels? To find out like this?"
"I was trying to protect you," I say, my voice starting to break. "I thought—"
"That sneaking around with Sandra, the woman who tried to destroy me, and kill you, might I add, was a good idea?" He shakes his head. "Jesus, Alina."
Something in me snaps. Maybe it's the hormones, maybe it's the unfairness of it all, but I stand my ground.
"I wasn't sneaking around!" I say, my voice rising for the first time. "I met with her to figure out what she was planning. I wanted to help you, Marco!"
"By meeting with her over and over again without telling me?"
"I didn't know how to tell you!" I cry, tears now streaming down my face. "I didn't want you to think I was betraying you, and now—now that's exactly what you think."
Marco takes a step back. "You should've told me, Alina."
"Please," I beg, reaching for him. He dodges my touch. "Just trust me enough now to know I'm telling you the truth." My voice breaks. "I love you, Marco. I've always been on your side."
Marco pauses for a moment, his eyes scanning the room, thinking, contemplating what to say next.
"You say you love me," he says quietly. "But love doesn't feel like this, Alina. Love isn't lies and secrets."
"Please, Marco." I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold. "Don't let this ruin us. Don't let Sandra win."
His eyes meet mine, cold and distant. "I need time to think. I can't do this right now."
"Marco, please—" My voice breaks.
"The election is in a few days. I need to focus on that," he says and stops for a moment. "I think it's best if you don't come."
My heart shatters. "What?" I ask, my hand instinctively moving to my still-flat stomach.
Our baby shifts beneath my palm—too early to feel, but I know they're there.
The secret I've been desperate to tell him, waiting for the perfect moment.
Now I might never get the chance. The irony isn't lost on me—I kept meetings with Sandra secret to protect him, and now that secret might cost our child their father.
"I'll announce you're sick and couldn't be there. It's better this way." He turns toward the door. "I can't help but wonder what else you've been hiding from me. I just need time."
"Marco!" I step forward, but he moves away. "Please, you have to believe me!"
He pauses at the door, his hand on the handle. In this moment, he looks every inch the mobster I know he is—beautiful, dangerous, and completely unreachable.
"I thought I knew you, Alina. I thought what we had was real." His voice is low. "I guess we were both living a lie."
The door closes behind him, and I collapse onto the couch, tears streaming down my face as I realize I might have lost everything trying to protect him, allowing my ambition to get him ahead to cloud my judgment.
In a few days, he'll give his victory speech, and for the first time since this all began, I won't be by his side.
Little do I know, it's about to get so much worse.