Chapter 47 Chapter 46

Chapter 47 Chapter 46
The days dragged on, and dinners with Dominic started to become almost a routine. The rare laughter broke the silence of that house. Sometimes, we even did things together, even if he judged me for every failed attempt at cooking or laughing too loudly. In the end, it was... good. Strangely good to be with him.

Even when I saw him come home late, his suit stained with blood — which I pretended not to see — he always kept that calm air, that discreet smile, as if nothing had happened. I wanted to believe in that normality, and for a while, I did.

But then, the nausea started. At first mild, then constant. My body tired, the dizziness frequent. At first, I thought it was the flu or just stress. But then... a memory hit me like a punch to the stomach. That night.

The night everything got out of control.

My heart raced.

"No. It can’t be."

I ran to the nearest pharmacy, trying to ignore the fear growing inside me. As soon as I got home, I closed the bedroom door and took the test out of the box with trembling hands. I did everything mechanically, my heart pounding in my chest as I waited.

Seconds turned into eternity.

When I finally looked at the result, the air left my lungs. Two red lines. Clear. Unmistakable.

My whole body tensed. I lifted the test, my fingers shaking, eyes fixed on the small stick. Instinctively, I brought my other hand to my stomach.

"No..." I whispered, my voice breaking.

A lump formed in my throat, mixed with a cold shiver that ran across my skin. My eyes burned, but I blinked, trying to hold back the tears.

I placed the test on the sink. I still wasn’t convinced — I needed another test, a blood exam, a plausible denial. But deep down, I already knew.

I was pregnant.

Later, I get home and notice the strange silence. I climb the stairs carefully, trying not to make any noise, and stop at Chloe’s bedroom door.
"Chloe? Are you in there? We need to talk." I hold the passport tightly, feeling my fingers press against the paper.
The silence persists. I knock again, harder.
"Chloe?" Without waiting for an answer, I push the door open and step inside. The room is empty. I walk to the bathroom, noticing the dim light still on, but no one is there.
I almost leave, frustrated, when something on the sink catches my attention. I approach, frowning, and pick up the pregnancy test.
Positive.
My world stops for an instant.
Chloe was pregnant. With my child.
An involuntary smile escapes my lips. My chest warms, my heart races, and I can barely contain the joy flooding through me. I leave the room almost running, rushing down the stairs with long strides, still clutching the test tightly in my hand.
I see Maria entering the house.
"Maria, where’s Chloe?" I ask, my voice more tense than I intended.
"Sir, I haven’t seen her for a while. She left this morning."
"This morning? Do you know where she went?"
"No, sir."
I take a deep breath and shake my head. "Okay."
I grab my phone, my fingers still trembling around the test, and dial Chloe’s number. When the call connects, a male voice comes from the other end:
"Listen, Don Moretti, if you want to see your beloved again, come meet me at the old warehouse..."
I feel the blood freeze in my veins. My fist tightens involuntarily around the phone. Without another word, the call cuts off. My jaw clenches as I rush toward the door and run to the nearest car; the keys tremble in my hand as I start the engine.
I see Salvatori and Enzo heading my way, but I ignore them and drive out of the garage. The gate opens slowly; I don’t wait — I slam the car forward, scraping the side against the frame. I don’t care. My woman and my child are in danger.
I press the accelerator to the floor, swerving past a taxi by inches. The vibration of the steering wheel in my hands makes my blood burn in my veins. In the rearview mirror, I see a line of black cars forming — at least ten. My breathing quickens. I speed up again, the engine roaring as we weave between other vehicles.
I reach the warehouse — the same one I had been to the first time. I get out of the car with my gun in hand, the door left wide open behind me. The other cars stop in a semicircle; the headlights cast long shadows across the dirt floor. Salvatori and Enzo step out right behind me, moving in silence; the men spread out, checking corners, ready.
I push open the rusty warehouse door. It creaks loudly. In the center, Chloe is sitting, tied up, her body tense; the sight knocks the air straight out of my throat. I feel the rage rising hot in my chest. Next to her, a man holds a phone to his ear — and then he does what no man has the right to do: he lays his filthy hand on her shoulder.