Chapter 5 - The Secret
By six o'clock, a female doctor named Dr. Aris arrived at my room, accompanied by Elena. She was polite, professional, and efficient. She performed a ultrasound using a portable machine she had brought with her.
The room was quiet except for the rhythmic, swooshing sound echoing from the monitor.
Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump.
I froze, staring at the small black-and-white screen. There, in the center of a tiny dark sac, was a minuscule flick of light. A heartbeat.
"Everything looks perfect, Miss Emma," Dr. Aris said with a warm smile, wiping the cold gel from my stomach. "You are six weeks and two days along. The fetal heart rate is strong—one hundred and twenty beats per minute. You need rest, good nutrition, and minimal stress."
Minimal stress. I almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of the statement.
After the doctor left, I spent an hour staring at the small printed ultrasound picture she had left on the nightstand. A real, living thing was growing inside me. A baby. Alessandro’s baby. My baby. A terrifying mix of fierce protectiveness and overwhelming fear washed over me. I wanted this child to be safe, but how could any child be safe in a world built on blood and violence?
At seven o'clock, a knock sounded at the door. Elena stepped in, carrying a garment bag.
"It is time for dinner, Miss Emma. Don Alessandro is waiting."
She unzipped the bag to reveal a gorgeous emerald-green silk dress. It was elegant, conservative, and clearly cost more than I used to make in three months at the diner.
I dressed silently, letting Elena help me zip up the back. I didn't put on makeup, nor did I fix my hair beyond brushing it straight. I wanted Alessandro to see the reality of what he was doing to me, not some dressed-up doll he could parade around his mansion.
When I walked down the grand staircase, a guard escorted me to the main dining room. The room was illuminated by a massive crystal chandelier hanging over a long mahogany table that could easily seat twenty people.
Alessandro was sitting at the head of the table, dressed in a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing dark tattoos that snaked up his forearms—symbols of his family, intricate Latin phrases, and marks of rank that I couldn't fully decipher.
He stood up the moment I entered, his eyes traveling slowly down my green dress before meeting my gaze.
"You look beautiful, Emma," he said softly.
"I feel like a prisoner," I replied flatly, taking a seat three chairs away from him, refusing to sit right next to him.
Alessandro didn't push. He sat back down and signaled to the waiting staff. Servants immediately appeared, placing plates of seared salmon, roasted vegetables, and fresh salads in front of us.
"Eat," he commanded gently. "The doctor said you need nutrients."
I picked at my food, having no real appetite. "How long are you going to keep me here, Alessandro?"
"Until the baby is born," he replied, cutting a piece of his steak with precise, measured movements. "And after that, we will reevaluate."
"Reevaluate?" I scoffed. "You mean you'll take the baby and throw me out on the street?"
Alessandro set his knife and fork down with a sharp clink against the porcelain plate. His amber eyes hardened. "Do you truly think so little of me, Emma? Do you think I am a monster who steals children from their mothers?"
"I don't know what you are!" I snapped, leaning forward. "You're a crime boss! You kill people! You threaten my friends! You kidnap me from my job! What am I supposed to think?"
Alessandro stared at me in profound silence for several seconds. Then, slowly, he leaned back in his chair.
"I run a family, Emma," he said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, dark register. "A family that has protected its own for a hundred years in a city that eats the weak alive. Yes, I do terrible things to keep my people safe. Yes, my hands are clean only because I choose who bleeds. But I have never, and will never, harm a woman or a child. And I will certainly never harm the mother of my child."
"You're harming me right now by keeping me here against my will!"
"I am keeping you alive!" he barked, his patience finally snapping. He stood up, slamming his hand onto the table. The glasses rattled. "Do you have any idea who is looking for you right now?"
My heart stopped. The air left my lungs in a sharp gasp. "What?"
Alessandro leaned over the table, his face dark with fury. "Did you think I didn't run a background check on you the night we met? Did you think I didn't notice that 'Emma' didn't exist before six years ago? No tax records, no high school transcripts, no birth certificate."
My hands began to shake under the table. I squeezed my thighs to hide the trembling.
"I know you're hiding from someone, Emma," Alessandro whispered, his eyes scanning my pale face for any sign of weakness. "Or should I call you Elizabeth?"
The world seemed to crash down around my ears. My secret. The reason I had fled my home town six years ago, the reason I lived like a phantom, the reason I used a fake name.
"Who told you?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.
"Nobody had to tell me," Alessandro said, his tone softening slightly as he saw the genuine, paralyzing horror in my eyes. "My men found an old court record from the Moretti family trial in New York six years ago. A star witness who vanished right before she was supposed to take the stand against Lorenzo Moretti. A girl named Elizabeth Vance."
I closed my eyes, tears hot against my skin. Lorenzo Moretti. The man who had ordered the hit on my father over a botched land deal. The man whose sons had hunted me across three states after I saw them murder my family's lawyer in cold blood.
"Lorenzo Moretti died in prison two years ago," I stammered, opening my eyes to look at Alessandro. "It's over."
"Lorenzo is dead, but his son Marco is very much alive," Alessandro revealed, his voice laced with cold reality. "And Marco just took over the New York syndicate. Three days ago, my contacts in New York informed me that Marco hired a team of private investigators to search the Midwest for Elizabeth Vance. He wants to finish what his father started."
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I stared at him, completely paralyzed.
"So you see, Emma," Alessandro said, walking slowly around the long table until he stood right beside my chair. He bent down, placing his hands on the armrests, trapping me in his space. "I didn't bring you here to ruin your life. I brought you here because Marco Moretti is coming to Chicago. And the moment he realizes you are here, the only thing standing between you and a bullet in the back of the head is me."
