Bella

The realization that I was truly pregnant had brought a mixture of emotions—fear, anticipation, and a renewed sense of purpose. But the looming decision to inform Marco about the child added a layer of complexity to an already tangled web of personal and professional dilemmas. His recent actions with Keta had shattered any remnants of trust, yet the implications of our shared child necessitated some form of communication.

Before I could gather the courage to call Marco, a knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. I opened it to find a grim tableau: three men, grim and determined, with my father standing ominously behind them. His presence was unexpected and unwelcome.

"Why are you back?" I demanded, my heart sinking as I caught the hostile intent in his demeanor.

Without answering directly, he gestured to one of the men who stepped forward and clamped handcuffs around my wrists. The cold metal was a harsh reminder of how far he was willing to go. "I got six out of eight bosses to vote you out. I now represent the Italian house and run the Order," he declared with a chilling smile.

The shock of his betrayal was like a physical blow. "So now what? You kill me?" I spat back, anger rising in my throat. "Marco knows that I have his baby. You will start something that no one in Italy will back you up on," I warned, trying to gauge his reaction and hoping to find some leverage.

He paused, considering the potential consequences. After a moment, he made a decision that sent chills down my spine. "Rough her up and put her on a plane to Arizona," he ordered casually, as if discussing something trivial.

The men grabbed me roughly, pulling me away from the doorway. Panic and disbelief surged through me as they began to execute my father's orders. Each step away from my home, from my life as a leader, felt like moving further into a nightmare.

As they ushered me towards a waiting vehicle, the reality of my situation set in. I was being forcibly removed from power, betrayed by my own father, and sent away like a fugitive. The implications for my unborn child, for Marco, and for the delicate balance of power within the Order were profound.

Would Marco protect me and our child? Could I forgive the lies and betrayals that had marred our relationship? The future was uncertain, filled with potential dangers and dwindling hopes.

As I slowly regained consciousness on the private jet, the dull ache from the "roughing up" I had endured was a grim reminder of the betrayal and cruelty that had become a part of my life. My hands were still bound, a constant, uncomfortable reminder of my father's cold ambition. The floor beneath me was cold and hard, matching the chill that had settled in my heart.

The thoughts that raced through my mind were dark and vengeful, scenes that could fill the screen of a gritty thriller. Each plot I imagined was a potential path of retribution against those who had betrayed me. However, the physical pain and the emotional betrayal weighed heavily, sapping my strength and blurring my focus.

When the plane finally landed, my body was a map of bruises and my eyes were swollen shut from the blows I had taken. Disoriented and in pain, I barely registered the change as I was moved from the jet. The uncertainty of my situation gnawed at me. Had my father really sent me to Marco? And how would Marco react not only to my condition but also to the news of the baby he was yet to learn about?

These thoughts tormented me, but exhaustion overpowered my fears and worries. I longed for rest, for escape from the immediate pain and the complex web of problems waiting for me. Yet, beneath the fatigue and fear, a spark of defiance flickered. This life, with its brutal realities and harsh lessons, was mine. I had navigated its dangers and celebrated its victories. Whatever awaited me when I stepped off this plane, I resolved not to face it with fear.

As the doors opened and I was helped out, the cool air hit my face, a slight relief against the soreness that plagued me. I was not sure where I was or what awaited me, but I was certain of one thing: I would face it head-on. This was the life I lived, the path I had chosen, and whatever came next, I would meet it with the resilience that had brought me this far.

Marco

14 hours Earlier

Another long day was winding down, and I was nursing a drink when whispers of a possible DEA infiltration soured the mood further. As I poured another glass, my phone rang, the caller ID flashing an Italian number. Weariness mingled with suspicion as I answered.

"Yeah," I said, my voice laced with annoyance.

"Marco Santos," came a male voice, unfamiliar and oddly formal.

"Who is this?" I demanded, my patience thinning.

"The grandfather of your unborn child," the voice replied, dropping a bombshell that made me pause.

I ended the call abruptly, my mind racing. The claim was ludicrous, yet the call's origin—Italy—piqued my concern. I dialed Bella's number, needing confirmation, denial, anything. The same voice answered, and my heart sank.

"Where's Bella?" I pressed, my tone hard.

"Right now, we are interrogating her, but don't worry, your child will be unharmed," he replied nonchalantly.

The word 'child' echoed in my head, disbelief mingling with a sudden, protective instinct. "Bella would have told me if—" I started, but the reality was dawning fast.

"What do you want?" I cut to the chase, my voice a mix of anger and dread.

"Keep Bella away from the Italian family. She is no longer welcomed. She and your bastard will be on a plane to you in one hour," he dictated coldly.

The threat was clear, and as much as I despised the term he used for my child—a child I was only now learning existed—my priority shifted. "For your sake, she better be in one piece," I growled before slamming the phone down.

As I hung up, the silence of the room amplified the turmoil inside me. The news of a child, Bella's peril, and the threat to her safety unleashed a torrent of emotions I hadn't felt before. Fear, anger, and an overwhelming need to protect what was mine drove me to action. The next steps were unclear, but one thing was certain: I would move heaven and earth to ensure Bella and our child's safety. The game had changed, and so had I.

The moment I received the coordinates for Bella's arrival, a sense of urgency took over. I gathered a group of trusted men, preparing for the worst. The possibility of a trap loomed large, but the thought of Bella in distress propelled me forward, ready to confront whatever awaited.

As we reached the designated airport, my heart raced with a mix of dread and determination. I stationed my men strategically, ready to intervene at the first sign of trouble. One of my men boarded the plane first to ensure it was safe. Moments later, he reappeared at the aircraft's door, supporting Bella. My breath caught in my throat at the sight.

I sprinted up the stairs, taking Bella gently but firmly into my arms. Her body was limp, her face bruised and swollen—a stark testament to her ordeal. "Get a doctor to my house, now," I barked over my shoulder as we hurried down the steps to the waiting car.

Once inside, I cradled her against me, brushing the hair from her face with trembling hands. "Bella, baby," I murmured, trying to offer comfort with my voice and touch.

"Marco," she whispered, her voice cracked with pain. Tears welled in her eyes, which remained painfully shut.

"It's me, baby," I reassured her, my voice thick with emotion. The sight of her so vulnerable, so hurt, was almost too much to bear. She was strong, always had been, but in that moment, her fragility was painfully evident.

"I'm sorry I was going to tell you about the baby," she managed to say, each word seeming to cost her. I felt a surge of protectiveness, mixed with a pang of regret for all the unspoken words between us.

"It's okay. I know why," I soothed, my hand gently caressing her face, encouraging her to rest. "Go to sleep."

She cried softly, the tension gradually leaving her body as she drifted back into a fitful sleep. As I watched her, a mix of relief and resolve settled within me. I would protect Bella and our child, no matter what it took. The road ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear: I was not going to let her face it alone.

My anger was a tempest, swirling with dark thoughts of revenge for the pain inflicted upon Bella. She lay injured and vulnerable, a sight that ignited a fury within me I had never known. I wanted vengeance, but the complexities of our intertwined lives made direct action impossible.

"We can't touch him. I'm marrying his daughter in a few weeks," Felipe reminded me, his voice calm but firm. He was caught in his own web of alliances and affections, tied to the very family that had orchestrated Bella's suffering.

"That deal is off," I snapped back, my mind racing with the potential fallout. Anger clouded my judgment, but Felipe's next words halted me.

"I'm sorry but I can't. I fell for Olivia the same as you did for Bella, and I can't leave her with them." His resolve was clear, and his situation mirrored my own—a bond formed out of love, complicated by the brutal politics of our world.

"Fine, but I have to do something," I conceded, my mind working through the maze of potential strategies.

"Bring it to the Order," Felipe suggested. His solution seemed too straightforward for the labyrinth of power and betrayal we were entangled in. The Order, our newly formed alliance meant to stabilize power and prevent such conflicts, now seemed both a potential tool and a hurdle.

This organization, designed to unify and empower, could indeed be the avenue through which I sought justice for Bella. Yet, it required careful navigation, strategic alliances, and perhaps most critically, restraint. I needed to rally support without sparking a war that could endanger more lives, especially Bella's and our unborn child's.

As I sat beside Bella, watching her rest fitfully, the weight of my responsibilities settled heavily on my shoulders. The next steps were crucial. I needed to engage The Order, to use the very system we had helped create to protect and avenge the woman I loved without escalating the violence or risking the fragile peace we had brokered.

The challenge was immense, but the resolve that solidified within me was sharper. I would use every resource, every alliance I had forged, every ounce of influence at my disposal to ensure justice for Bella. The path would not be easy, but it was necessary, and I was ready to walk it, for her, for our future, and for the peace that seemed so elusive in our tumultuous world.