Chapter 141: Voicemail

ARYA’S POV

I barely slept.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Marco's hand around my throat or heard his voice promising to take me away somewhere I would never escape.

Dante, at least, was better. The fever had broken completely during the night, and he nursed peacefully in the early morning hours.

I pressed my face against his soft hair, breathing in his sweet baby scent.

"I'm going to get us out of here," I whispered. "I promise, sweet boy. I'm going to keep you safe."

Around seven, I heard movement outside my door. Then, for the first time in a week, the lock clicked open.

But no one entered. I waited, holding my breath but there was nothing.

Frowning in confusion, I continued to pet Dante.

I moved around my daily routine until curiousity got the better of me and I crept to the door and pulled it open.

The hallway was empty.

My heart pounded as I tiptoed toward the stairs with Dante in my arms. I reached the bottom of the stairs to find that living room was empty and the kitchen too.

Was this actually my chance? Had Marco slipped and made a mistake?

The front door was right there. Just twenty feet away. I took a step toward it then another and my hand reached out for the doorknob

BANG!

The gunshot was deafening. I screamed, stumbling backward, my arms instinctively curling around Dante.

A bullet hole appeared in the wall beside the door, smoke still rising from it.

"Going somewhere?"

Marco stepped out from the hallway leading to his bedroom, a shotgun cradled casually in his arms. He was smiling.

"I… I was just-" My voice shook. "Dante needed-“

He moved closer, the gun still pointed vaguely in my direction. "Don't insult my intelligence by lying. You were trying to leave."

"No, I wasn't!” I argued.

"The door was a test, Arya." He circled me slowly, like a predator. "I wanted to see if you would try and you did. Which means you haven't learned your lesson yet."

Terror made my whole body shake. "Please, Marco. The baby-"

"Is fine. I aimed well clear of you both." He set the shotgun on the coffee table and moved closer. "But now I know I can't trust you.”

I was trembling again. "I'm sorry-"

"No, you're not. Not yet." His hand shot out, grabbing my arm and pulling me against him. "But you will be."

Dante whimpered between us, and Marco's eyes dropped to him, then back to me.

"You know, you're actually quite beautiful when you're scared." His free hand came up to cup my face, thumb stroking my cheek. "I've always thought so."

Bile rose in my throat. "Let me go."

"Why? So you can run again?" His hand slid down to my neck. "I don't think so."

Then his lips were on mine. I froze for a shocked second before my survival instincts kicked in.

I shoved him as hard as I could with one arm while holding Dante with the other. Marco stumbled back, surprised.

My hand flew up and connected with his face in a resounding slap.

"Don't you dare touch me like that!" I was shaking with rage and fear. "Don't you dare!"

Marco's expression darkened. He touched his cheek where I hit him, then he laughed. "There she is. The fire I fell in love with."

"You don't love me. You're obsessed with controlling me. There's a difference." I yelled.

"Is there?" He moved closer again, and I backed away, clutching Dante. "Love, obsession… they're just words. What matters is that you're mine. And soon, everyone who might try to take you away will be irrelevant."

I gave him a blistering stare. "My father would be horrified if he knew what you were doing to me."

The moment the words left my mouth, Marco's expression shifted to something cruel.

"Your father?" He laughed again. "Your father is on his deathbed, Arya. Dying in his mansion while his family falls apart around him."

The world tilted. "What?"

"Someone shot him a week ago. He's not expected to survive." Marco's smile was vicious. "And do you know who's been at his bedside, holding his hand? Giovanni De Santis. Your dear father and your ex-husband.”

I couldn't breathe. Papa was dying? And Giovanni was with him?

I shook my head, blinking. "That's not… you're lying!”

"I'm not." Marco pulled out his phone and showed me a news article. Local business magnate Robert Vitale shot in his home.

Oh God. Oh God, this was real.

"So you see," Marco continued, pocketing his phone, "you have no one. Your father is dying. Your family is in chaos. And Giovanni…”

He shrugged and clicked his tongue. “Well, he's probably just using the situation to his advantage. He doesn't actually care about you. No one does."

He stepped closer, and I pressed myself against the wall.

"No one except me," he whispered. "I'm all you have left, Arya. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be."

I stepped back. "Get away from me."

"Go back to your room." His voice turned cold. "And think about what I said. Think about how alone you'd be without me."

I ran up the stairs and into my room, slamming the door behind me even though there was no lock on my side.

I laid Dante in his bassinet with shaking hands, then sank to the floor, my back against the door.

Papa was dying and possibly working with Giovanni. Which meant…

An idea sparked in my desperate mind.

If they were working together, if Giovanni was there with my family, then maybe… maybe he could help.

But I didn't have a phone. Marco had taken mine weeks ago.

I needed a phone and I needed it before Marco took us to South America in less than three days now.

I waited until nightfall.

Dante was asleep in his bassinet, his breathing peaceful and even.

I crept to my door and listened. Marco usually stayed up late, working on his laptop or making phone calls in Italian I couldn't understand.

But tonight, I could hear nothing. Slowly, I opened my door.

The hallway was dark. I tiptoed toward the stairs, my heart pounding so hard I thought Marco might hear it.

The living room was empty, lit only by the lights coming through the windows.

I moved silently across the hardwood floor, wincing at every small creak. I walked to the house landline in the kitchen.

Then I punched I’m Giovanni's number. I knew it by heart so I dialed with trembling fingers.

It rang and went straight to voicemail.

"No," I breathed. "No, no, no."

I hung up and tried again immediately but it went straight to voicemail again.

Tears of frustration burned my eyes. I hung up, my hands shaking so badly I almost dropped the phone.

He wasn't going to answer. Not at this hour and not from a number he didn't recognize.

Panic seized me when I heard a sound from upstairs. I dropped the phone back and ran.

I closed the door of my room just as I heard Marco's bedroom door open. Then I dove into bed and pulled the covers over me, my heart hammering.

I could hear the footsteps in the hallway then  pause outside my door and I held my breath.

Then the footsteps retreated.

I lay there in the darkness, trembling, as the reality of my situation crashed over me.

Giovanni hadn't answered. I had wasted my one chance to call for help. And in less than three days, Marco was going to take me and Dante to another country.

I pressed my hand to my mouth, stifling a sob. I was running out of time and I had no idea what to do next.