CHAPTER 4
Ariana's POV
Alessandro.
My life is miserable without you.
You’re the only person I’ve longed to see in the last five years, but every time I let myself think of you, it kills me all over again — the reminder that I can’t, because you’re gone.
These past five years have been the most torturous of my life.
At this point, I’ve grown desperate — desperate for anything to happen that would make Nicola finally leave.
I’ve never understood him. He never tires of what he does — the cruelty, the control.
There are days when he shows a fleeting gentleness, but more often he’s merciless, so much that I wonder if I’ll live to see the next sunrise.
Even when he’s kind, I can’t relax; the fear of provoking him never leaves.
One wrong word, one glance too long, and I’m beaten until I can’t move — until I’m nothing but bruises and breath.
I’ll never understand why he does it, and all I can do is hope that someday I’ll see the light of escape.
The last time I saw Nicola was when he dragged me through hell in his brothel.
I never saw him again after that — and I never wanted to.
That night was the worst thing he’d ever done to me, something I’ll never forgive, never forget.
I cried for days afterward, broken by the things he made me endure.
Back then I was helpless, but now, whenever I think about it, rage burns through me for doing nothing to stop him.
I imagine all the ways I could’ve fought back, but my weakness always chained me down.
My jaw tightens, my fists curl whenever I think of Nicola — the most vile, disgusting, and heartless man walking this earth.
Since Alessandro died, I’ve hated my life.
I can’t imagine a future, because every version of it feels wrong without him in it.
I think of all we could’ve had — a marriage, children, a home of our own — but it’s nothing more than a dream now.
Every night I cry myself to sleep, knowing I’ll probably have to live like this for the rest of my life.
I’d rather die and be with Alessandro than marry a monster — a rapist, a heartless man.
“Ariana?”
I turned toward the voice and saw Mom standing in the doorway. The moment our eyes met, her face softened with pain.
“Mom,” I said quietly, “come in.”
She stepped inside — and before I could say another word, she broke down right in front of me.
“Mom, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” I asked, pulling her into my arms. I fought hard not to break too. I’ve done enough of that — if she saw me cry, it would only destroy her more.
“Cara, look at you,” she sobbed. “I can’t see you like this anymore. I want you out of here.”
Her words hit like a storm, stirring every buried nightmare until my chest tightened with them. Tears blurred my vision as I shook my head.
“Mom,” I croaked, “I can’t leave you here.”
“Ariana, I told you—”
“Mom, I love you so much, and I respect you, but I can’t do what you’re asking. We’ve talked about this before — it’s not going to happen.” My voice was firm, my face blank, leaving no room for argument.
“What is not going to happen?”
The familiar voice froze me where I stood. My spine went rigid, my blood cold. I looked at Mom with wide, terrified eyes as she slowly turned toward the door.
There stood D’Angelo, framed in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. His face was void of any emotion as his eyes swept over us, and a shiver ran down my spine.
“Nothing important, Vito,” Mom answered quickly.
D’Angelo chuckled darkly as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
A smirk crawled across his face as he came closer, each step echoing in my chest. I couldn’t look away; I was too scared to move, too scared to speak.
Sweat gathered at my temples, and I felt Mom’s hand slip into mine, her grip trembling but reassuring.
“Do you know what I hate the most?” he asked, raising a brow. “Liars. I fucking despise them — and that’s exactly what you are right now.” His voice dropped, venomous. “Do you know how stupid you sound, Valentina?”
Before either of us could answer, he grabbed Mom’s arm — rough, forceful. She gasped, letting go of my hand as a whimper escaped her. Neither of us dared speak; we both knew how easily words could set him off.
My jaw clenched as I watched him handle her like that. The anger that had been buried inside me for years began to stir. I didn’t think — I just spoke.
“D’Angelo!” I shouted. “Leave her alone!”
The sound of my voice stopped him cold. His grip loosened, and he turned his glare on me — slow, disbelieving. His eyes scanned my face, sharp and calculating, like he couldn’t believe I’d dared to speak.
For a moment, the air froze between us. His surprise shifted into something darker — amusement, maybe — and that was when I knew: I’d just made the biggest mistake of my life. And I might die today.
“What did you say?”
His voice came out low and dangerous, a growl that made the air itself tremble. He released Mom’s arm and started toward me.
“Vito, please—don’t,” Mom said quickly, shaking her head as she hurried to follow him, trying to stop him from getting any closer.
“I said, leave Mom alone, D’Angelo,” I muttered under my breath as he reached me. He was so close that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. His jaw flexed hard, and before I could even blink, his hands shot out and clamped down on my arms.
“You’ve grown older... smarter... bolder,” he hissed.
“And I do not fucking like that.” His grip tightened, pain blooming under his fingers.
“You need a taste of my medicine, ragazza. I’ve let you off for too long.
It’s time you learn to behave.” His breath was hot against my face, his eyes filled with pure contempt.
“I’m telling you, Ariana—drop this stupid act.
Because if you don’t, I will do things that will ruin you. ”
“Vito, no. Not now—you promised!” Mom’s voice cracked behind him.
I looked past D’Angelo’s shoulder at her, her face streaked with tears. Confusion twisted in my stomach. What was she talking about? What promise?
“Keep quiet, Valentina!” he barked. “I’ll do whatever I want—whenever I want!”
She flinched at his tone, her body trembling. She couldn’t even bring herself to meet my eyes. That was when I knew—this was bad. My palms were slick with sweat, my heart hammering painfully in my chest.
Then his next words broke me.
“The wedding will take place in three weeks,” he announced coldly. “And you have no choice but to agree.”
It felt like the world collapsed around me. My knees buckled before I could stop them, and I fell to the floor, sobbing. My vision blurred as I stared up at the man who called himself my father. I couldn’t even think of him that way anymore—not after everything he’d done.
By the time I looked up again, D’Angelo was gone. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving only Mom and me in the silence that followed. She rushed toward me, tears streaming down her face.
“Caro, mia stella,” she whispered, kneeling beside me and pulling me into her arms. “I am so sorry. I should have told you. I should have told you before he did.”
I shook my head weakly against her shoulder. “No, Mom, it isn’t your fault. You’re helpless... and I knew this day would come.”
She stayed with me that night. Nicola wasn’t home, and for once, the house felt less suffocating.
We sat together for hours, sometimes talking, sometimes silent.
For the first time in a long while, I felt a fragment of peace in her embrace.
She promised me that everything would be fine—that the wedding wouldn’t happen—but I didn’t know how that could possibly be true.
“Ariana,” she said softly after a long pause, “there are three weeks left until the wedding. We can think of something.”
“Mom, stop,” I said, pulling away to look at her. “It’s too risky. I don’t want to risk either of our lives. You know what D’Angelo is capable of.” I shook my head firmly. “We can’t.”
“But what about Alessandro?” she asked suddenly.
My breath caught. “What about him? He’s dead.”
“Ariana, sweetie...” Her voice softened to a whisper. “You don’t know that.”
I lifted my head from her lap and stared at her, startled. There was a strange light in her eyes—hope. Hope I hadn’t seen in years.
“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“I mean, you don’t know if Alessandro is actually dead.”
I sighed, shaking my head. “Mom, I was there. I saw it happen. I watched him get shot, and I waited for him to get up—but he didn’t.” My throat tightened as the memory burned behind my eyelids. “There’s no way he’s alive.”
“Did you check his pulse?” Mom asked suddenly.
The question hit me like a knife. “No...” I whispered. My stomach dropped as realization crept in. “Mom, I didn’t check his pulse. I—I don’t think—”
“Ariana,” she said quickly, gripping my hand. “The reason your father is rushing the wedding, the reason it’s happening so soon, is because he suspects Alessandro isn’t dead.”
I froze, staring at her in disbelief. “What?” My eyes widened. “W-why? How do you know that?”
“I overheard him talking to Nicola about it,” she confessed, her voice trembling.
It suddenly made sense. All of it.
I knew Mom still believed Alessandro was alive—but now, I wasn’t sure what to think. Maybe it was foolish not to check his pulse that night, but part of me couldn’t let myself believe otherwise. If Alessandro was truly alive... he would’ve come for me.
He would’ve found me.
He would’ve taken me out of this hell years ago..
“Mom...” I whisper, my voice trembling. “I don’t know...”
“I’m going to get you out of here,” she says suddenly, her voice sharp with resolve.
“No, Mom... we’re not doing that. I—I can’t.” The words come out weak, fractured. There’s no chance of leaving now.
“Why not, cara? You still have time,” she argues, desperate to persuade me again.
“Mother...” I take a shaky breath, my lips quivering. “I can’t because... I think I’m pregnant.”
The words hang heavy in the air.
My chin rests against my knees as I pull them tightly to my chest. My heart hammers violently against my ribs as I rock back and forth, staring blankly at the floor, lost in thought.
The next few minutes could change my life forever — and I am not ready.
If I really am pregnant, it will be the hardest thing I’ll ever have to face.
I don’t think I’m ready — not physically, not mentally, not emotionally.
I don’t even know for sure, but the signs are there — the nausea, the sudden waves of dizziness, the endless exhaustion. Mom insists that I take a pregnancy test, just to be sure. So now, I wait. Every second feels like an eternity.
Then her gasp slices through the silence.
“Ariana!” she chokes out, voice trembling.
My eyes snap to hers.
“It’s positive,” she says, barely above a whisper. “You’re pregnant.”
The words echo inside my head, hollow and unrelenting. My mind goes blank — stripped of sound, thought, air. Mom stands there frozen, her face pale with shock and horror. My heart plummets to the floor as the truth sinks in.
And then I break.
Tears stream down my cheeks as I crumble beneath the weight of it all. The future — this baby’s future — flashes before my eyes, and all I see is darkness. There is no world where this child will be safe, not with Nicola in it. He ruins everything he touches.
If the baby is to live... it cannot live near him.
My chest tightens as another thought tears through me — Alessandro.
Oh, Alessandro.
It should have been him.
It should be his child, our child.
If he were here, he’d be holding me, smiling through tears, promising me everything would be okay. He’d love this baby. He’d love me.
But he’s not here.
And I’m carrying the child of a monster.
I sob until my throat burns and my body feels empty.
“Ariana, baby... don’t cry,” Mom murmurs, wrapping her arms around me. “We can fix this, okay? We can solve it.” Her hand strokes the back of my head gently. “You don’t have to keep the baby. You’ll get an abortion.”
My eyes widen. “No! Never!” I pull away, shaking my head in disbelief. “Mother, I can’t abort this child. This baby hasn’t done anything wrong. It deserves to live. If anyone should be punished, it’s Nicola!” My voice cracks, trembling with rage and grief.
I tremble on the floor, clutching my stomach as silent sobs escape me. I think of all the lives Nicola has destroyed, all the blood he’s spilled — innocent people, gone because of him. And now, to take away this baby’s life because of him too?
No. I won’t let that happen.
“Darling,” Mom pleads, “you’re not thinking clearly! What about Alessandro?”
Alessandro. His name still feels like a prayer, a wound, a ghost. But he’s gone. I have to accept that. Alessandro is the past — and the past can’t save me.
“I don’t know, Mother,” I whisper, my voice breaking apart. “I seriously don’t know.”
And then I collapse into her arms again, crying until there’s nothing left in me — until my tears run dry and the night swallows us whole.