Aria’s POV
Dominic answered before the second ring finished.
“Aria,” he said, his voice smooth and edged with ice. “This is unexpected.”
Even through the phone, the weight of him pressed against my chest. Dominic Russo didn’t speak often, and when he did, men twice his size chose their responses carefully.
I swallowed. “I need Enzo destroyed. And I can’t do it alone.”
Silence stretched between us, heavy and deliberate. Then he gave a low, amused laugh that sent a shiver down my spine.
“I was wondering how long it would take you,” he murmured. “Go on. Tell me everything.”
So I did. I told him about the photos at the cemetery, about Camilla installing herself in the master suite, about Enzo’s threats and his promise to burn down my father’s orphanage if I tried to leave. I spoke without crying this time. My voice was steady, almost detached, as if I were recounting someone else’s humiliation.
Dominic did not interrupt once.
When I finished, he asked only one thing. “How quickly do you want him buried?”
“Yesterday,” I replied.
That drew a genuine chuckle from him. “Good. I prefer urgency. Enzo won’t see it coming.”
For the first time since my father’s funeral, something like hope stirred in my chest.
“I’ll start moving pieces tonight,” he continued. “You’ll hear from me when it’s time.”
He paused, and the shift in his tone made my stomach tighten.
“There’s one requirement.”
I closed my eyes briefly. Nothing in Dominic’s world came without a price. “What do you want?”
“Marry me.”
The words landed with quiet force.
I couldn’t speak.
~
Sleep never came that night. I lay awake in the guest room, staring at the ceiling while Dominic’s proposal replayed in my mind. He hadn’t demanded an immediate answer; he’d told me to think carefully and call him when I was ready. The moment I agreed, he promised, he would come for me personally.
Protection. Power. Revenge.
But marriage to Dominic Russo was not a simple alliance. It meant stepping fully into the darker side of the empire, into a world even Enzo handled cautiously.
What would I be trading?
By morning, I had no clarity—only exhaustion.
And then everything shifted.
I was alone in the bathroom when I stared at the thin white stick in my trembling hands. Two clear lines.
Positive.
For a long moment I felt nothing. Then a broken laugh escaped me as tears blurred my vision.
Pregnant.
After years of doctors, whispered diagnoses, and Enzo’s thinly veiled resentment, after enduring the word barren thrown at me like a curse, I was finally carrying a child.
And it was too late.
Enzo had already shown me exactly who he was.
I pressed the medical report against my chest, my heart pounding painfully. If he found out, he would claim this child as his legacy, as leverage. He would never let me go.
My phone buzzed.
A message from Dominic.
Everything is arranged. Three days. Decide.
Three days.
I stared at the words while my thoughts spiraled. I could not drag an innocent child into a house filled with lies and calculated cruelty. Growing up under Enzo’s shadow would mean manipulation, power games, and blood-soaked expectations.
What kind of mother would I be if I chose that?
My vision swam as I dialed the hospital.
“Preston Medical Center, how may we help you?” a receptionist answered pleasantly.
My throat tightened. “I need to schedule a termination,” I said quietly.
There was no judgment in the reply. “We have an opening tomorrow morning. Will that work?”
The sooner, the better.
“Yes,” I managed.
When the call ended, an emptiness settled inside me. I was about to erase the one miracle I had prayed for years to receive.
My mind drifted back to the accident six years earlier.
Enzo had been furious about a failed shipment deal. He’d been drinking heavily, pacing the penthouse, cursing rival families. I had begged him to let the driver take us home. He insisted on handling the wheel himself.
I still remembered the headlights appearing out of nowhere. The screech of tires. The violent impact. The metallic taste of blood in my mouth before everything went black.
I woke in a hospital bed two days later to a doctor explaining, with rehearsed sympathy, that the internal damage was severe. Conceiving naturally would be nearly impossible.
I had sobbed until my body ached. Enzo had stayed by my side then, stroking my hair, whispering apologies, promising he would never leave me, that we would find another way.
He had looked at me as if I were irreplaceable.
I had believed him.
Love had made me blind.
“Well, this is a depressing sight.”
Camilla’s voice snapped me back to the present.
I stiffened. “I don’t have the patience for you.”
She entered the living room like a queen inspecting her territory, her hand resting theatrically on her stomach.
“You look exhausted,” she observed with a smirk. “Is married life stressful?”
I gripped the edge of the table to keep from reacting. “What do you want?”
She shrugged lightly. “Can’t a sister check in?”
“After sleeping with her sister’s husband? No.”
She laughed, soft and taunting. “Enzo was bored. You were always so… restrained. He needed excitement.”
I refused to give her the satisfaction of anger, though it burned in my veins.
“You should have seen him,” she added sweetly. “He couldn’t get enough.”
Her smile faltered slightly when I remained silent.
The sound of a car engine cut through the tension. Enzo was home.
I stood immediately.
Camilla tilted her head. “Not staying to greet him?”
I walked past her without answering and retreated to the guest room, locking the door behind me. My body felt heavy, my chest tight. Just three more days, I reminded myself. Three more days and everything would change.
I had just closed my eyes when the door slammed open with a violent crash.
Enzo strode in, fury radiating from him.
“What is wrong with you?” I demanded, startled.
He didn’t respond.
His hand struck my face so hard that my vision flashed white.
The room fell silent except for the sharp ringing in my ears.
