Page 41 of Doctor Billionaire's Surprise Baby

"Meaning? Purpose?" Mamma scoffed, tossing her perfectly styled hair over her shoulder. "She cannot offer you the powerour family has built, the connections we have cultivated. She is nothing more than a pretty distraction, Hugo."

My jaw clenched, anger flaring within me at her words.

"Simone is far more than that, Mamma," I said, barely able to keep my voice steady. "She is kind, intelligent, and fiercely loyal. She supports me in ways you never have."

"Is that so?" Mamma retorted, her eyes cold and unyielding. "And what about our family business? Are you truly willing to turn your back on all we've worked for, just because of some misguided sense of morality?"

"My sense of morality is not misguided, Mamma," I countered, my resolve unwavering. "I refuse to be a part of the activities that have tainted our family's name. There are likely activities I don't even understand, nor do I want to understand. All I know is that the Barone name is not what you think it is in Milan. It isn't one that conjures images of kindness and goodness, but I sense people feel fear and some kind of underhanded business. I can't stand for that. I will build my own life, one that aligns with my values and integrity."

"Integrity?" Mamma spat, her hands gripping the arms of her ornate chair. "Your father and I have done everything in our power to secure your future, and this is how you repay us? By running off with some American girl and abandoning your duty to your family?"

"Simone has nothing to do with my decision," I insisted, though I knew deep down that she had played a significant role in shaping my newfound perspective. "This is about me, Mamma. It's about my life and the choices I make – choices that should be mine and mine alone."

"Fine," she snapped, her nostrils flaring with barely contained rage. "If you're so determined to throw away everything we've given you, then go. But don't come crawling back to us when your precious Simone leaves you penniless and alone."

As I rose from my chair, I felt a strange mix of sadness and determination. Though it pained me to leave my family behind, I knew that I could no longer compromise my values for their sake.

Mamma's eyes, once fierce, softened with a glimmer of desperation. "Hugo, please, think about your future," she implored, the rigidity in her voice giving way to vulnerability. "Imagine what you could accomplish here in Italy, with the resources and connections we have. You could take over the family business, and continue your father's legacy while he pursues his political career."

Her words hung heavily in the air around us, like a thick fog refusing to dissipate. The sunlight streaming through the tall windows cast long shadows on the antique furniture, turning the familiar room into a battleground of light and darkness. I looked at my mother, struggling to reconcile the woman who had raised me with the one who was trying to control me.

"Mamma," I began, my voice steady despite the storm brewing inside me, "I appreciate everything you and Father have done for me. But I can't join you. Not for all the money or power in the world, because I know in my heart, that I am not driven by those things." My heart clenched as I watched her expression shift from hope to disappointment.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the arms of her chair. "You don't have any clue about what you're doing. What you're throwing away," she whispered, her voice laced with bitterness.

My chest tightened as I took in her anguish, but I refused to let it sway me. "No, Mamma. I'm choosing to build my own life, separate from the darkness that has tainted our family name. I want a future filled with love, honesty, and purpose – and I'll find that with Simone in America."

I could see the hurt in her eyes, but I knew that standing firm in my decision was the only way to stay true to myself. As much as I longed for my mother's understanding and acceptance, I couldn't sacrifice my own happiness and integrity for her approval.

"Mother," I said, my voice unwavering, "I want us to find a way to reconcile and respect each other's choices. I don't want to sever ties with you or the rest of our family, but I need you to understand that my life is mine to live."

The room grew colder as the tension between us mounted. The ticking of the grandfather clock seemed deafeningly loud, punctuating the silence that filled the space between my words. My fists clenched at my sides, knuckles turning white with the effort to hold myself in check.

"Is this Simone's doing?" Mother hissed, her voice trembling with anger and desperation. "Has she poisoned your mind against us?"

"No, Mamma," I replied, trying to keep my frustration in check. "This is my decision, not hers. She has only supported me and let me feel the love I have wanted and needed my entire life. Please," I implored, my voice softening. "Can we try to find some common ground? I still want you in my life, but we have to be able to respect one another's decisions."

For a moment, I thought I saw something shift in her gaze – a flicker of understanding, perhaps, or the beginnings of acceptance. But then, just as quickly, it was gone. She looked away; her jaw set in a stubborn line.

"I cannot condone your choices, Hugo," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "But I cannot stop you from making them, either."

"Thank you, Mamma," I sighed, feeling the weight of our conversation pressing down on me. "That's all I ask."

As I turned to leave the room, I couldn't help but wonder if we would ever truly find a way to reconcile our differences. The chasm between us seemed wider than ever, and the road ahead was uncertain. But still, there was hope – a glimmering possibility that one day, we might be able to bridge the divide and reclaim the bond that had once been so strong. For now, though, all I could do was hold onto that hope and continue to forge my own path.

As I stepped out of the living room, my heart heavy with the weight of our conversation, I caught sight of Simone standing just outside the doorway. Her eyes were wide, and her hand trembled as she clutched the door frame for support. She had been listening to our exchange, and I could see the fierce loyalty and determination in her gaze.

"Simone," I murmured, reaching out to touch her arm gently. "I didn't mean for you to overhear all of that."

She shook her head slightly, her eyes filling with tears. "No, Hugo, it's all right. I – I just wanted to be here for you. I know how hard this is for you."

"Thank you," I whispered, pulling her into a tight embrace. I could feel her body shaking against mine, and I knew that she was trying her best to stay strong for me. But it hurt to know that she had witnessed the ugly side of my family – the side I had hoped she would never have to see.

Chapter 17

Simone

It had been a few days since Hugo and I had returned to Boston, leaving behind the drama that lay in Italy.

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