Page 29 of Saint Of Envy
“You’re a monster!” I hiss at him.
“Perhaps, but I’m an obscenely wealthy one, and you’d better hope you fetch me a good price at auction if it comes to that. Because if I can’t recoup my financial loss over your father’s loan by selling you for a hearty price, then my only other option is to sell you for slaughter, much like a prized pig who has outlived its time in the barn. I know at least one buyer who would like to see you killed.”
His eyes dart down toward the phone, implying that Angelo Barone would pay at least a small sum for the pleasure of killing me.
“I’ve done nothing to cross the Barones,” I say, confused over why Angelo would hate me enough to want me dead.
“True,” Angelo says over the phone. “But the Moretti family has done plenty to vex me and make my life difficult. I owe Vincent and Luciano a debt of pain that I intend to repay in full. Killingyou would inflict pain on Luciano Moretti, and that would bring me a lot of satisfaction. And don’t worry, we’ll be coming to get Isla as well. By the end of this, both Moretti men will regret ever crossing me—and ever doubting the power and reach of the Barone family. They will pay for what they have done to me, and you and your pretty ballerina friend will pay for their actions too.”
The waiting feels like forever. Leonardo comes and goes, leaving me in this room alone to ponder my fate and drive me crazy with worry over the life of my unborn baby. And when the next day rolls around, I’ve barely slept more than a few minutes at a time in this cold room as I slouch against the uncomfortable chair. I can already tell by the look on Leonardo’s face as he enters that the test results are contrary to what he would have liked to have been told. This time, he's not alone as he walks in—Angelo Barone is beside him. Angelo looks like a rabid dog, eager to sink its teeth into his pound of flesh.
Leonardo strides toward me with narrowed eyes and a grim expression. Even the perfectly pressed suit that he’s wearing can’t hide the chaos of anger within him. He doesn’t say a single word to me. Instead, he grabs me by the arm, pulls me up from my seat, and snaps me around.
“Careful!” Angelo calls out to my surprise. “Don’t damage the merchandise. The auction is too close for that.”
That settles it then—the paternity test came back so the baby I’m carrying is Luc’s. I know I should feel nothing more than fear over what is about to happen to me, but I can’t help feeling a moment of relieved joy because, just like I thought, the unborn child within me is Luc’s.
That brief moment is fleeting when Leonardo pulls a pill out of his pocket and shoves a bottle of water into my hand.
“Take it!” he shouts as he glares at me. “Take the pill.”
“What is it?” I ask, knowing full well that it’s meant to terminate my pregnancy.
“It’s your last chance at staying alive and being sold for a good price,” he growls. “Swallow it, Valentina.”
“No.”
My defiance only serves to enrage Leonardo even further. He waves for one of his men to come into the room and pin my arms behind my back. Angelo watches from the other side of the room, taking sick pleasure because the woman his enemy cares about is being subjected to such treatment. Leonardo pinches my nose with one hand and forces my mouth open with the other. I do all that I can to free myself. And when I can’t, I do all that I can not to swallow that pill. But Leonardo shoves the tiny pill inside my mouth and presses it against the back of my cheek where it quickly dissolves. There’s nothing I can do to stop it, and nothing that I can do to save the tiny little life inside of me from the effects of that drug.
Tears roll down my cheeks, and when Leonardo and his goons let me go, I crumble into a sobbing heap on the floor. I may not have expected this baby, but I wanted it. How will I ever face Luc after this? Will I even survive what’s about to happen to me and ever find freedom again?
“Stop your blathering,” Leonardo scolds as he walks out of the room. “You need to get cleaned up and beautified so that you present well tomorrow at the auction.”
Angelo and the other man follow him out, and before the door closes, the same old woman who fitted me for my wedding dress inside the cathedral in Italy steps inside.
“Oh dear,” she says as she comes to take my hands and lift me up to my feet. “See? If you had only listened to me back in Italy, then none of this would have ever happened. When will girls like you learn?”
“Learn what?” I snap angrily at her as tears continue to roll down my cheeks. “That we are nothing more than things to be owned by terrible men?”
For a moment, I think I see a glimpse of sympathy in her old eyes. But a dutiful, emotionless stare quickly replaces it.
“No, that if you don’t embrace the fact that you are nothing more than the property of a powerful, very dangerous mafia king, this will be your fate. I tried to warn you, but you didn’t listen. And now, instead of that lovely wedding dress inside that lovely church on the Mediterranean, they will guise you up and sell you like a whore at auction. There is no fight left in you, girl—or at least there shouldn’t be. Because you cannot win against Leonardo Conti, and neither can that Romeo Moretti man of yours—he’s no knight in shining armor that is going to swoop in and save you this time, and he’s no Saint. None of them are.”
She’s right, and Leonardo Conti wins. He broke me, and he stole my child from me, and now there is no more fight left in me.
I stand there, staring vacantly at the mirror the old woman has brought in as she ties my hair back into a tight ponytail behind my head, and she dresses me to be sold. She chatters just as she did in the dressing room at the church, but I don’t hear her words. I’m simply swimming inside my head right now,thinking of nothing other than the beautiful future and family with Luciano I almost had.
It isn’t until she’s almost finished dressing me up that something she says slips through the fog. I don’t know what she was talking about mere moments before, but I catch the tail end of her sentiment.
“Besides, sometimes those things don’t even work. Modern medicine can’t defeat miracles.”
“What?” I ask as I break out of my stupor. “What are you talking about?”
“The abortion pill,” she frowns as she repeats herself. “Sometimes, those pills don’t even work. Medicine is not the same as a miracle.”
“That’s what I need right now,” I whisper under my breath. “A miracle.”
“What did you say?” she asks.
