The Mafia Heir's Surrogate

Chapter Four

The sharp smell of antiseptic stayed in my nose long after the procedure was over.

Even as the nurse helped me sit up carefully on the hospital bed, my body still felt strange—not painful exactly, but fragile in a way I could not explain. The clinic room looked spotless and expensive, with soft cream walls and quiet machines humming in the background, everything designed to feel calm, yet my nerves refused to settle.

“This part is important,” the doctor reminded me gently as she adjusted her glasses. “You need to avoid unnecessary stress for the next few weeks. Rest as much as possible.”

I nodded.

“I understand.”

She smiled politely. “Good. We’ll monitor everything closely.”

The embryo transfer was done; the surrogacy process is now complete.

Somewhere inside me now rested the possibility of an entirely different future. A future I still did not fully understand.

As I slowly stepped out of the operating ward later that afternoon, one hand resting lightly against my stomach, my thoughts felt tangled. I had signed a contract, married a man I barely knew and entered a world so far above mine that sometimes it still felt unreal.

And somehow, despite all of that, I was less afraid than I had been when James betrayed me. Because at least this arrangement had honesty, even though it felt cold.

The waiting area was strangely quiet when I walked through it, and for a moment, I thought I was alone.

Then someone stepped in front of me, and I froze.

James.

His jaw looked tense, his expensive clothes slightly wrinkled, as though he had been pacing for hours.

“Aria,” he said quickly.

The sound of his voice no longer stirred anything warm inside me. I looked at him and all I could feel towards him was pure disgust.

“What are you doing here?” I asked flatly.

His expression tightened.

“I needed to see you.”

I folded my arms slowly.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Please,” he said, lowering his voice as he stepped closer. “Just listen to me.”

I stayed silent. He rubbed his face in frustration.

“You don’t understand what you’re getting into,” he said. “Matthew is dangerous.”

I almost laughed.

Dangerous.

The word sounded ridiculous coming from him.

“You think I don’t know that?” I asked quietly.

“I’m serious, Aria,” he insisted. “You need to leave before this gets worse.”

My expression never changed.

He looked almost desperate now.

“Break the contract,” he said quickly. “Forget all of this.”

His eyes searched mine.

“We can leave Florence together.”

I blinked slowly.

He actually believed I would agree.

“Elope with me,” he continued, his voice softer now. “We’ll disappear somewhere. Start over.”

I stared at him for a very long time. At the same man who shoved me in public. The same man who had abandoned me all those months back in America while he went after another woman for money. The same man who called me nothing.

And all I felt was disgust, nothing else. No heartbreak. No longing. Not even anger anymore.

Just disgust.

“You must really think I’m stupid,” I said quietly.

His brows furrowed.

“Aria—”

“You already chose money,” I interrupted. “You already made your decision.”

His jaw tightened.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

He stepped closer.

“You can’t seriously stay with Matthew.”

A bitter smile touched my lips.

“You stayed with Vittoria.”

His face darkened instantly.

“That’s different.”

“No,” I said calmly. “It isn’t.”

For a second, silence stretched between us. Then footsteps approached, and James stiffened immediately.

I turned to see Matthew walking toward us with calm confidence, dressed in black, his expression unreadable, though something dangerous sat quietly beneath it.

James took one step back.

Then another.

Matthew’s eyes moved between us once.

“What’s happening?” he asked calmly.

I shook my head.

“Nothing.”

James forced an awkward smile.

“I was just leaving.”

And just like that, he left.

Coward.

Matthew watched him disappear before turning toward me.

“You alright?”

His voice stayed calm, though there was something sharp beneath it.

I nodded once. “I’m fine.”

He looked at me for a longer second like he was deciding whether to believe me.

Then he simply said, “Come on.”

The drive back felt quiet.

Matthew drove himself, one hand resting against the steering wheel while the city lights slipped past outside the window. He never asked unnecessary questions, and strangely, I appreciated that.

No fake comfort.

No pretending.

When we finally arrived, I realized we were not heading toward the massive main mansion I had seen before.

Instead, we stopped at a private residence tucked farther back on the property. It wasn't as massive as the mansion but it was still beautiful, surrounded by gardens and silence.

“You’ll stay here,” Matthew said simply as we walked inside.

The place was stunning. It had tall windows, warm lighting, a private library, and rooms bigger than my entire apartment back in Florence.

And somehow, despite the luxury, it felt strangely lonely.

“James and Vittoria stay in the main house,” Matthew added.

I looked at him briefly.

“And me?”

“You stay away from unnecessary drama.”

Something about that almost sounded protective, but yet, I didn't argue. I simply walked closely behind him, my eyes taking in the beauty of the house as he led me to my room.

***

Two weeks passed too quietly.

I lived in comfort I had never imagined, with staff bringing meals and cleaners appearing before I even noticed anything messy. Every room felt expensive, every surface polished perfectly.

Still, luxury could not erase loneliness.

Most days, I watched Matthew from a distance. Sometimes from upstairs windows. Sometimes during quiet dinners we barely spoke through.

He was always working, always handling problems. People came and went constantly, men in dark suits speaking in low voices, meetings lasting deep into the night.

Even without anyone explaining things, it became obvious. Matthew literally ran everything—the family, the power, and the fear that came with who he was.

Sometimes I caught glimpses of a colder side of him, especially when business calls turned tense. His voice would lower, his expression hardening until even the staff avoided breathing too loudly near him.

Yet strangely, he never treated me harshly. He was distant, yes. Cold sometimes, too. But never cruel.

Then exactly two weeks later, everything changed. The doctor smiled the moment she looked at the results.

“Congratulations,” she said warmly.

My breath caught.

“The pregnancy took.”

For a second, I could not speak.

I was pregnant with Matthew’s child.

The mafia heir.

I had mixed feelings, knowing that the child in my womb was mine, and yet at the same time, not entirely mine.

That night, Matthew surprised me.

“There’s a family dinner,” he said while adjusting his cufflinks. “You’re coming.”

I frowned slightly.

“Why?”

His eyes met mine briefly.

“It's time for you to meet the family.”

He said nothing else, and with that, he began walking towards the door.

“You should get dressed,” he said as he paused at the door. “I'l be downstairs.”

I nodded stiffly, and his eyes lingered on me just for a millisecond before he shut the door behind him.

The main mansion looked even grander at night, glowing beneath warm lights like something from an old movie.

The dining room felt enormous.

Matthew’s father sat at the head of the table, his sharp eyes instantly landing on me. Beside him sat his elegant stepmother. I had previously met Matthew's father and stepmother at some point during my two-week stay here, and Matthew had simply introduced me to them as his fiancee.

Then there was Vittoria, and then James.

The moment James saw me walk in beside Matthew, his entire expression changed into one of shock, and then anger.

Vittoria looked confused.

Matthew pulled out a chair beside him.

“Sit.”

I obeyed quietly.

The room felt tense immediately. Finally, Matthew’s father spoke.

“You said you had news, Matt,” he said, pausing for a second. “Mind telling us what it is?”

There was a moment of silence as all eyes turned to Matthew. He calmly lifted the glass of water before him to his lips.

“Aria is pregnant.”

The silence in the air was deafening.

“She’s carrying my heir,” Matthew added.

Vittoria nearly dropped her fork while James looked frozen. His face had gone pale, and the satisfaction that settled inside me came quietly.

Not loud.

Not cruel.

But deserved.

“That's beautiful news,” his stepmother said, turning towards me with a smile. “Congratulations!”

“Congratulations, son,” his father said simply. “Welldone.”

James and Vittoria said nothing, but I didn't seem to care anyway. And neither did Matthew.

Dinner stretched painfully, though I barely tasted my food. I only noticed James watching me constantly, his jaw tight, regret written all over his face.

It was too late now.

Far too late.

By the time we finally returned to Matthew’s residence, I felt very exhausted, so much that all I wanted was just sleep.

Matthew walked a few steps ahead of me as we approached the front porch. Then suddenly, he stopped, his body going completely still. Something changed in his expression, and I could see the genuine shock clearly written on his face.

My brows furrowed.

Slowly, I followed his line of sight.

A woman stood on the porch—beautiful, elegant and smiling at us like she belonged there. Matthew barely moved. His voice came out quiet and in utter disbelief.

“Eve?”

The woman’s smile widened.

“Hello, Matt.”