34. Chiara
34
CHIARA
M y heart pounds so hard I can barely hear over the rush of blood in my ears as I stand frozen in Papa’s office. Papa’s face is contorted with rage, his eyes blazing as he glares at the Avilovs. The two pregnancy tests lie on the floor between us, damning evidence of my secret.
After a long, tense silence, Mykola’s voice cuts through the room, cold and dangerous. “Don Marino, I assure you, my son has not touched your daughter. To accuse us of such dishonor is?—”
“ Dishonor ?” Papa roars, slamming his fist on the desk and causing the contents to jolt upward. “You dare speak to me of dishonor when your son has defiled my daughter under my own roof?”
Katerina steps forward, her voice tight with controlled anger. “Don Marino, please. There must be some misunderstanding. Pyotr would never?—”
“Are you calling my daughter a liar?” Papa interrupts, his voice rising even further.
Pyotr, who has been silent until now, finally speaks up. “Sir, I swear on my life, I have not been intimate with Chiara. I would never disrespect you or her in such a way.”
Mykola’s eyes narrow dangerously. “Don Marino, I suggest you think very carefully about your next words. Making an enemy of the Bratva over a misunderstanding would be… unwise.”
The threat in his voice is clear, and I feel a chill run down my spine. This is spiraling out of control faster than I could have ever imagined.
“Is that a threat, Avilov?” Papa snarls, his face turning an alarming shade of red.
“Simply a reminder of the delicate nature of our alliance,” Mykola replies coolly.
I want to speak up, to explain, to do something to stop this disaster unfolding before me. But fear has stolen my voice. I stand there, trembling, as the men argue over my fate, my shame exposed for all to see.
Papa turns to me, his eyes blazing. “Chiara, tell them. Tell them what you’ve done.”
I open my mouth, but no words come out. Tears stream down my face as I shake my head, unable to form the words that could save us all from this nightmare.
The tension in the room is suffocating, and I’ve never felt more alone or more terrified in my life. How did everything go so wrong so quickly?
Papa’s grip on my arm tightens as he shakes me, his voice thunderous. “Answer me, Chiara! Tell them!”
But before I can find my voice, Pyotr speaks up, his tone cold and filled with revulsion.
“Don Marino, I know for a fact that I haven’t slept with Chiara.” His eyes narrow as he looks at me. “Which means she’s not the virgin I was promised. She’s pregnant with another man’s child.”
The room falls silent, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. Pyotr’s gaze is piercing as he addresses me directly. “Were you planning on tricking me into thinking this bastard was mine, Chiara?”
I flinch, unable to speak or breathe. Papa’s grip on my arm loosens as he turns to look at me, confusion and disbelief warring on his face. He was so certain I was protecting Pyotr, and now…
Mykola steps forward, his face a mask of disgust. “The engagement is over,” he declares, his voice cold and final. “We came here in good faith, Don Marino, and this is how we’re repaid? With lies and deceit?”
Katerina looks at me like I’m something vile she’s stepped in. “To think we almost welcomed you into our family. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
Papa seems at a loss for words, his earlier rage replaced by shock. Mykola takes advantage of his silence.
“We’re leaving,” he announces. “And let me make one thing clear, Don Marino. If word of this… incident ever gets out, if our family’s reputation is tarnished in any way because of your daughter’s indiscretion, there will be consequences.”
The threat in his voice is unmistakable. Papa stiffens but doesn’t respond.
As the Avilovs file out of the office, Pyotr pauses at the door, his eyes meeting mine one last time. The disappointment and disgust I see there make me flinch.
“I hope he was worth it,” he says quietly before following his parents out.
The door closes behind them with a final-sounding click, leaving me alone with Papa. The silence that follows is deafening, and I’ve never been more terrified of what comes next.
I can barely breathe, my heart pounding so hard I’m sure Papa can hear it.
Suddenly, Papa slams his hand on the desk again, the sound making me jump. He whirls toward me, his face a mask of cold fury. Gone is my loving father. In his place stands Don Marino, the feared Mafia Boss.
“Do you see what you’ve done ?” he roars, his voice echoing off the walls.
I flinch again, tears streaming down my face. “I’m sorry, Papa,” I sob, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”
But my apology only seems to fuel his anger. “Sorry?” he snarls. “You’ve ruined everything ! You’ve put our entire family in danger! And for what? So you can spread your fucking legs to the first available man and get pregnant ?”
His words cut deep, each one a reminder of the magnitude of my mistake. I want to disappear, to wake up and find this is all just a terrible nightmare.
Papa takes a step toward me, his eyes blazing. “If it’s not Pyotr, then who? Who is the fucking father, Chiara?”
I open my mouth, but no words come out. The image of Dante flashes in my mind, and with it comes a wave of fear. Papa is so angry, so unpredictable right now. What if he does something to hurt Dante?
“I… I can’t tell you,” I manage to say, my voice trembling.
His face contorts with rage. “You can’t tell me? After everything you’ve done, you dare to keep secrets from me?”
I shake my head frantically, tears blurring my vision. “Please, Papa. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
But my pleas fall on deaf ears. Papa looms over me, his presence overwhelming. “You will tell me, Chiara. One way or another, you will tell me who has done this to you.”
The threat in his voice is clear, and I’ve never been more terrified of my own father. I wrap my arms around myself, feeling small and vulnerable.
“Papa, please,” I whisper, one last desperate attempt to reach the man who raised me, who loved me.
But as I look into his eyes, I see no trace of that man. All I see is Don Marino, cold and unforgiving, ready to do whatever it takes to protect his family’s honor.
The door flies open, startling both Papa and me. Sofia, Bianca, Mama, and Mia burst into the room, their faces a mix of concern and confusion.
“What’s going on?” Mama cries out, her eyes darting between Papa and me.
Papa’s face contorts with fury as he turns to face them. “Chiara is pregnant,” he roars, “and the father is NOT Pyotr. The engagement is over!”
The room falls into a stunned silence. I watch as shock registers on each of their faces, their reactions hitting me like physical blows.
Mama’s hand flies to her mouth, her eyes wide with disbelief. Sofia’s face hardens, her jaw clenching as she processes the news. Bianca looks torn between sympathy and disappointment, while Mia… sweet Mia looks utterly lost, as if she can’t quite comprehend what’s happening.
“Chiara!” Mama shouts, her face white with shock. “This can’t be true!”
“Of course it’s true,” Papa snarls, grabbing the pregnancy tests from the floor and shoving them into Mama’s hands. “The fucking evidence is right there . And our daughter won’t tell me who the fucking father is.”
My family’s stares bore into me, a mixture of shock, disappointment, and pity that I can’t bear. It’s too much. All of it is too much.
Without thinking, I turn and run. I push past my sisters and mother, ignoring their startled cries, and flee the room as fast as my legs will carry me. I can hear them calling after me, begging me to come back, but I don’t stop.
Tears blur my vision as I run through the house, sobbing uncontrollably. I need to find Dante. I need to tell him, to explain, to feel his arms around me and know that everything will be okay.
But as I search the house and grounds, growing more frantic with each passing moment, I can’t find him anywhere. It’s as if he’s vanished into thin air.
“Dante!” I call out, my voice breaking. “Dante, where are you?”
But there’s no answer, just the echo of my own desperate cries.
The compound .
I gasp, my head snapping in its direction, as I change direction. Dante has to be there. He has to be.
My heart races as I burst through the door of the compound, startling two guards sitting on the couch. I can’t even remember their names right now, my mind focused solely on finding Dante.
“Where’s Dante?” I ask frantically, my voice high and desperate. “I need to see him. Now .”
The guards scramble to their feet, exchanging confused glances. “Miss Marino,” one of them says, “we haven’t seen Dante. He’s not here.”
His words hit me like a physical blow. I was so sure Dante would be here. This was my last hope.
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “No, he has to be here. He has to be!”
But the guards’ bewildered expressions tell me everything I need to know. Dante isn’t here. He’s gone.
I turn and bolt out of the house before they can say anything else. I make it less than one hundred yards before my legs give out, and I collapse to the ground.
The sobs come then, violent and uncontrollable. I curl into myself, my whole body shaking with the force of my cries.
“Dante,” I gasp between sobs. “Where are you? I need you.”
But there’s no answer. Just the sound of my own broken cries echoing throughout the vast estate.
I’m alone. Truly, completely alone. Pregnant with Dante’s child, my family in turmoil, and the man I love nowhere to be found.
As I lie there on the ground, my tears soaking into the earth, I’ve never felt more lost or terrified in my life. How am I going to face what comes next? How can I do this without Dante?
The weight of my situation crashes over me in waves, each realization bringing fresh tears. I’ve ruined everything . My family, my future, Dante’s future.
And now, when I need him most, he’s gone.
I don’t know how long I’ve been here, crying until I feel hollowed out, weak and empty. The sound of footsteps on grass makes me sit up, hope flaring in my chest. “Dante?” I whisper, my voice hoarse.
But it’s not Dante. It’s his father, Victorio, standing over me with an unreadable expression.
“The whole house is in an uproar looking for you,” he says, his voice gruff but not unkind.
I say nothing, unable to find words.
“You need to return to the house now,” Victorio continues, his tone brooking no argument.
Panic surges through me. “No,” I say, shaking my head frantically. “I can’t. I can’t face my father. Please.”
Victorio’s eyes—so much like Dante’s it makes my heart ache—soften slightly with sympathy. But his voice remains firm. “You don’t have a choice, Chiara. I’ve been ordered to return you.”
I feel fresh tears welling up, but I’m too exhausted to let them fall.
“I’m giving you a choice,” Victorio says. “You can walk back with me, or I can haul you there. It’s up to you.”
I look up at him, seeing the resolve in his face. I know he’ll do exactly as he says if I refuse. And I’m just… so tired. Too tired to fight anymore.
Slowly, I nod. Victorio extends his hand, and I take it, letting him help me to my feet. My legs feel shaky, barely able to support me, but I force them to move.
As we walk back toward the estate, Victorio beside me, I feel like I’m moving toward my doom. Each step is heavy, filled with dread of what awaits me.
I take a deep breath, trying to prepare myself for what’s to come as the house comes into view. But how can you prepare for the moment your whole world falls apart?
Pushing open the door, I see Sofia and Bianca on their phones, their voices low and urgent as Victorio and I enter the house.
“Dom, I need you to come here now,” Sofia is saying, her voice tense. “There’s been a… situation.”
Bianca’s voice is equally strained. “I don’t care what you’re doing, Rork! This is important. Get here as soon as you can.”
My eyes move to the center of the room, where Mama and Mia are hovering around Papa. He’s sitting in a chair, looking weak and pale. But when Victorio clears his throat and announces my return, Papa slowly rises to his feet.
I feel like I can’t breathe as he towers over me. His voice is soft, dangerous, as he asks, “Are you ready to tell me who the father is, Chiara?”
The room falls silent. You could hear a pin drop. I shake my head, my resolve firm despite my fear. If Dante is gone, I will suffer in silence. I won’t put him in danger.
“Chiara, please tell us,” Mama cries out, her voice desperate.
Papa lifts a hand, silencing her without taking his eyes off me. “I never expected any of my daughters to be disloyal to me,” he says slowly, ignoring my sisters’ gasps. “You have disappointed me more than any of your sisters ever have,” he continues, his words cutting deep. “I can’t even look at you right now.”
Suddenly, he seizes my arm. I cry out in pain and surprise, but he ignores me, dragging me toward the stairs. I can hear my family’s protests, their pleas for him to stop, but Papa pays them no heed.
We reach my room, and with a forceful shove, he pushes me inside. I stumble, nearly falling.
“You’ll stay here until you’re ready to tell me who the father is,” he growls, his hand on the doorknob. “I don’t care how long it takes.”
The door slams shut, and I hear the click of the lock. I’m alone, trapped in my own room like a prisoner.
I sink to the floor, my back against the door, as the full weight of my situation crashes over me. Dante is gone. My family is in turmoil. And I’m locked away, carrying a secret that threatens to destroy everything.