The Italian Princess

Chapter Seventeen: Ultimate Betrayal

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.