Chapter 16
Colina
“Lina!”
I barely make it to the bathroom in time—again—before Matteo realizes what’s going on.
He’s pounding on the door now, calling out my name, growing more impatient the longer I take. He’ll put the pieces together if he sees me like this. And if Matteo figures out I’ve been throwing up this often, there’s no way he’ll stay quiet.
It’s been three weeks since Santino disappeared—no calls, no notes, nothing but silence. His final words, full of vengeance, still echo in my dreams. I wish I could hate him less. But every day, I resent him a little more… and the family that let this all happen.
Most days, I can barely leave my room. I feel like I’m suffocating, stuck in this house with no one truly on my side. Mother has found yet another way to control me—planning some marriage with one of Father’s business allies. A transaction, not a union. And the only person I ever trusted is gone. I’ve turned into someone I hardly recognize.
Matteo is worried. I can see it. But this? This is something else entirely.
I haven’t had my period in over two weeks. The thought alone makes me shiver. I can’t be pregnant. I can’t be carrying his child. Mother and Father can never know. They’d lose their minds. A broken vow, a tainted tradition? They’d disown me.
“Open the door, Lina!”
The sound of his fist against the wood startles me. I rush to rinse out my mouth, my hands trembling. I’m shaking as I reach for the doorknob.
“Lina!”
I drag myself forward, dizzy. Matteo’s eyes lock onto mine the moment I crack the door open. He doesn’t wait—he pushes it wider, catching me just as my knees give out beneath me.
“You’re not well,” he mutters, wrapping his arm around me.
I’m too weak to protest as he helps me back to bed. “I’m fine,” I whisper, though it’s a lie neither of us believes.
“I’m calling the doctor.”
“No!” My voice is hoarse, desperate.
He touches my forehead. His palm is cool. Too cool. I grab his fingers, clutching tightly. My eyes plead with him not to say anything.
“Please… don’t.”
“I can’t leave you like this, Colina.”
“I said I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” he says quietly, then pulls his hand away and leaves the room. No more arguing. My heart sinks.
Damn it.
I stumble back into the bathroom and throw up again. There’s barely anything left inside me, just bile and dread. I lose track of time, sitting on the tile floor with my cheek resting against the toilet bowl.
At some point, Matteo rushes back in. I can barely keep my eyes open. His arms lift me with ease, laying me gently on the bed.
My words are slurred as I try to speak. My vision blurs. Someone else is in the room now—another figure beside him. A second voice, quieter, speaks near my ear as someone clasps my hand.
Maybe it’s just a fever.
I close my eyes, whispering a prayer as I slip into sleep.
Please don’t let this be what I think it is… Please don’t let me be pregnant with Santino Romano’s child.
⸻
“What…?”
I bolt upright, yanked from sleep by shouting. Someone’s voice, shrill and furious, cuts through the air.
It’s Mother.
I blink hard, trying to recognize my surroundings. The light hurts. Matteo stands beside the bed, his jaw clenched, lips tight. Something’s very, very wrong.
“Agh!” I cry out as Mother grabs my arm and squeezes so hard I swear I can feel the bruises forming.
“Puttana!”
I jerk my arm back. “Let me go!”
“You dare bring shame like this into this family? You’re pregnant?!”
My stomach drops.
No. No, no…
I look at Matteo, begging him to tell me she’s wrong. That this is some awful misunderstanding.
“What is she talking about?” I manage to say, but my voice is barely a whisper.
“Whose is it?” Mother demands. “Don’t play dumb. You know.”
My mind races. Santino and I never used protection. Not even once. I was careless. Stupid. And now I’m paying for it.
“Say something!”
“Let go,” I mutter, fighting her grip.
Matteo paces. His eyes burn into mine.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” he snaps.
“Who?” Mother turns to him, demanding the name.
I shake my head even as the tears start to fall.
Matteo doesn’t wait. He slams his fist into the wall. “Tell her, Matteo!” Mother screams.
He turns toward her slowly, breathing hard.
“Please,” I mouth to him, shaking my head, silently begging.
“Santino Romano.”
The name hits like a bullet to my chest. My body trembles as sobs burst out of me. It’s real now. It’s undeniable.
Mother lets go, shrieking in Italian before storming out. I already know where she’s going.
Father.
I collapse deeper into the mattress. My hands cover my face as I break down.
He’s gone. He left me. And I’m pregnant. I’ve ruined everything.
“Look at me!” Matteo shouts.
I can’t. I won’t.
“Look at me, Colina!”
His voice cracks like a whip across the room. I flinch. I cry harder.
“I can’t…” I whisper. “I can’t, Matteo.”
“You let him touch you, and you didn’t even protect yourself?” His voice is full of pain and rage. “I trusted you to know better!”
“I didn’t mean for this,” I cry. “I’m sorry, I swear. I didn’t know this would happen.”
He storms toward the door and turns back once more. “If he comes back, I’ll kill him.”
His eyes flick to my stomach before he slams the door.
I choke on my sobs, pulling the blanket over my face as if that could make it all disappear.
Any minute now, Father will walk through that door.
And he does.
The door crashes open. His voice thunders.
“Colina!”
I sit up, dazed. He looks like a man betrayed. His fury is unmistakable.
“You’ve brought shame—disgrace—into this house!” he growls. “You’ve mocked everything I built.”
I sit motionless, numb from exhaustion.
“You went against my word. You spit on our bloodline, our tradition, la sacra bibbia. And for what? For him?”
He approaches, his black cross swinging from his neck, his voice cutting deep.
“A Rosetti girl gives herself to a Romano boy. Before marriage. Without honor. You’re nothing but a disgrace. A filthy little whore.”
Tears blur my vision. Again.
“I won’t have some bastard child ruin this family. Fix this. Or I will.”
He storms out, leaving silence and despair behind.
My hand instinctively rests on my belly.
Fix this? How?
This is real. A life is growing inside me. Mine and Santino’s.
And I have no idea what to do.
“Where are you, Santino?” I whisper.
God, if I could take it all back…
⸻
One week has passed since the truth came out.
The worst week of my life.
I’ve barely left my room. The maids come and go with food I rarely touch. No one speaks to me—except Matteo. And even that feels strained.
Today, I step into the hallway for the first time. I wander into the living room, unsure why.
Mother is there, sitting with her glasses perched on her nose and a stack of papers in hand. She doesn’t look up.
I try to back away quietly, hoping she won’t notice me.
“Stay where you are, Colina.”
Her voice is calm.
Too calm.