BETRAYED BY THE MAFIAN DON

Chapter Four—Positive

First-person POV: Alessia/Aria Costa

Boston.

Cold. Loud. Crowded.

But… safe.

I tightened my grip on the duffel bag as I stepped off the Greyhound bus. My fingers were raw from clutching it the entire ride. Everything I had left was inside it. My new name Aria Costa was scrawled on the fake documents tucked into the side pocket. It was the only identity I had now.

And the only thing more terrifying than being alone in a strange country… was the growing fear inside me.

My stomach twisted. Not from hunger this time. From dread.

It had been weeks since that night. The night with Dominic Gallo.

And now, my period was late.

I couldn’t afford to fall apart.

The apartment Lila had arranged was in East Boston. Small. Quiet. Hidden in the kind of building where people didn’t ask questions. I closed the door behind me and locked all three deadbolts. Then I dropped the bag, slid down to the floor, and finally… finally exhaled.

I was alive.

But my family wasn’t. My brother wasn’t.

I should’ve died with them.

Instead, I’d been wrapped in warm sheets and the arms of the man I now couldn’t forget.

That night had been impulsive. Reckless. A moment stolen from a life I didn’t know I was about to lose. I hadn’t even known his name until the next morning. But now it haunted me.

Dominic Gallo.

CEO of Gallo Tech. A man with power in his veins and blood in his name. According to Lila, he was the richest CEO in Italy.

And possibly… the father of the lives growing inside me.

No.

I shook my head, willing the thought away. It couldn’t be. It shouldn't be.

My hands dug through the duffel until I found the pharmacy bag. Three pregnancy tests. I didn’t trust just one.

I paced the small bathroom as I waited. My heart was thundering. My lungs refused to take in enough air.

Then the results appeared. One after the other.

Positive.

Positive.

Positive.

The world tilted.

I staggered back, my knees hitting the cold tile. “No,” I whispered. “No. No, no, no.”

But there was no denying it.

I was pregnant.

With his child.

I curled up on the bathroom floor, hands shaking over my still-flat stomach. Just days ago, I had everything: a last name that carried power, a future mapped out, and a family that loved me.

Now?

I was a fugitive. A refugee. With nothing but a baby I hadn’t planned and a name that wasn’t mine.

I had never felt so alone or more determined.

By morning, the grief was gone. Replaced by something sharper. Survival.

I burned the last trace of Alessia in the sink. Watched the flames devour the old me.

From that moment, I was Aria Costa.

No past.

No ties.

No weaknesses.

I enrolled in college with the money I took from the safe and kept the remaining in insurance to secure my child’s future.

I scoured job boards with fake credentials. Took a dishwashing job in a damp basement diner. Cash under the table. No questions asked. I ate crackers and drank tap water to keep the nausea down. Slept with one eye open. Kept the lights off at night.

I stopped looking back.

Until one night, during my break, I sat in the back booth and scrolled through my phone.

And there he was.

Dominic Gallo’s Influence Surges Following Moretti Estate Tragedy

The headline felt like a slap.

His face filled my screen. That smug smirk. Those dark, dangerous eyes. The same eyes that had looked into mine as his body moved with mine in that hotel bed.

My fingers tightened around the phone.

So this was who he really was. The man who had taken my innocence, stolen my peace, and left me with something that would change my life forever.

A child

I stared at his photo, rage simmering beneath my skin. My lips moved before I could stop them, a promise whispered into the silence.

“You’ll never know him. And he’ll never hurt you like he hurt me.”

Week by week, everything changed.

The nausea got worse. My belly grew rounder. I found a back-alley OB-GYN willing to take cash and ask no questions.

The first time I heard the heartbeat, I broke. I sobbed in silence as the nurse smiled gently.

“They are healthy,” she said. “You’re about seven weeks along.”

Seven weeks

My knees almost buckled. The timeline was undeniable.

It was Dominic’s.

“Wait…they?”

I blinked, hoping I’d heard wrong. Maybe she meant two beats per second or two minutes left in the scan. But no—she smiled gently, almost too gently, and pointed. “See? There are two heartbeats, Baby A... and Baby B.”

My breath caught. My throat tightened. My fingers, clenched in my lap, went numb.

Twins.

I was having twins.

I didn’t even know if the money left could cater for one baby.

I walked home in the snow that night, trembling. Every step felt heavier than the last. I stopped beneath a flickering streetlamp and wrapped my arms around myself.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “But I’ll protect you. I swear it.”

I didn’t know how long I could stay hidden. Or how I’d raise two children in this cold, dangerous world.

But I’d already lost everything.

I wouldn’t lose this too.

I placed a hand on my belly, something fierce rising in my chest.

The children weren’t a mistake.

They were my reason to fight, and I will protect them.

(Meanwhile, oceans away, the man who painted my home in blood smiled over a glass of whiskey… celebrating his new victory.)