The Mob's Bride

I stayed silent, saying nothing. Leo's voice grew more frantic on the other end. "Ava, say something! Don't scare me!" "I'm fine." I finally spoke, my voice flat as still water. Leo let out a sigh of relief. "Good, good…" he muttered. "Ava, just hold on a little longer. I'm working on it. My father's negotiating with the Marcello family. We'll get you back soon." I tugged at the corner of my mouth, a bitter smile forming. He still thought he had everything under control. How pathetic. "Leo," I said softly, "is Isabella okay?" The line went quiet. After a few seconds, he answered. "Everything went smoothly. Isabella… she's safe." "Good." "Ava, you…" "I'm tired. I want to rest." I cut him off. "Okay, okay. Get some rest. Don't overthink." Leo's voice carried a hint of pleading. "Wait for my call." I hung up and tossed the phone aside. How long would this charade go on? I didn't know. I only knew that the moment I stepped into this estate, there was no going back. The next day, I woke to searing pain. My stomach twisted, as if stabbed by countless needles. It was my old problem, cramps during period. They always left me writhing in agony. Before, Leo would make me ginger tea, hold a hot water bottle to my stomach, cradle me in his arms, and lull me to sleep. He'd whisper, "It doesn't hurt, baby. I'm here." Once, the pain was so unbearable I ended up in the ER late at night. It was pouring outside. Leo carried me on his back, trudging through the rain, one heavy step at a time. Rain soaked his hair and clothes, but he didn't care. At the hospital, he rushed to register, pay, and fetch medicine, drenched and disheveled. When the doctor treated a cut on his forehead, I learned he'd fallen at the hospital entrance in his haste. Lying in the hospital bed, I saw the bandage on his head and cried from guilt. He just smiled and tapped my nose. "Silly, why are you crying? As long as you're okay, I'm fine." In that moment, I truly believed he'd love me forever. But now, everything had changed. I curled up in bed, cold sweat soaking my nightdress. A knock came at the door. It was the maid. "Madam, what's wrong?" "My… stomach hurts." I could barely speak through the pain. The maid's face shifted, and she hurried out. Soon, Alessandro appeared at the door. He wore his usual black suit, his expression stern. Seeing my pale face, he frowned. "What's going on?" "She… seems to be ill," the maid said. Alessandro approached the bed and touched my forehead. His cool fingertips made me shiver. "Call the family doctor," he ordered. Then he bent down and scooped me up in his arms. I gasped, instinctively clutching his shirt. His embrace was firm, surprisingly steady. "Be quiet," he snapped, glancing at me as he carried me to the bathroom. He turned on the shower, adjusted the water temperature, and set me in the tub. Warm water enveloped me, easing the cramps slightly. I leaned against the tub's edge, looking at him. He stood above me, his expression unchanged, though his eyes grew deeper. "Always this bad?" he asked. I nodded. He stayed silent for a moment, then left. I thought he was gone, and a strange sense of loss crept in. Moments later, he returned. In his hand was a cup of ginger tea. I froze.