Page 20 of Forced & Knocked-Up Bratva Bride

“No one messes with the Romanos and lives,” Marco chipped in, his tone low and venomous. “We’ve been quiet long enough. I say we strike as soon as possible.”

Bruno turned to him. “Nik is a strategist. He’ll expect retaliation.”

“Then we hit him where he won’t see coming,” Marco insisted, his voice dripping with disdain.

Dad gestured slightly with his hand, and the room fell silent. He paused for a moment, his cold eyes shifting across his children. “That bastard made a mistake,” he said, his tone almost reflective. “He thought he could touch what belonged to me and live.” A dismissive scoff left his lips. “He’s delusional if he thinks he can get away with this.”

“He won’t. We won’t let him, Father,” Marco said, facing our Dad. “We’ll burn the ports. Cut his supply line to the east. No heroin. No weapons. Nothing.”

I sat there, straight-backed, near the middle of the table, flanked by my older brothers. I felt like an object, a tool polishedand returned to the shelf rather than a rescued daughter. Outside, the winter wind breathed frost against the towering windows. But inside, the warmth was suffocating me in ways I couldn’t explain.

As the men talked, I lowered my head, fingers clenched around the stem of my glass. The food before me remained untouched, despite the sweet aroma wafting from my plate. I stared blankly into space, my family’s voices fading into the background as I pondered my next move. What they didn’t realize was that I had a bigger problem than taking revenge on the man who kidnapped me. A really big problem that would, in time, change the course of my life.

“Alessia.” Dad’s voice sliced through my thoughts like a knife, almost startling me.

I lifted my head and met his gaze, my heart slowly racing in my chest.

“You did well,” he said, acknowledging my ability to escape my captor. In his eyes was a glint of pride, and a small grin tugged at the corners of his lips. “You proved you’re not weak.”

“She’s a true Romano,” Bruno teased, smiling at me.

Marco extended a hand and patted my shoulder. “I’m proud of you, kiddo. We all are.”

My breath hitched in my throat as their applause sank in. Would they still be proud of me if they found out what I had to do to get out of there? Would they still look at me with that look in their eyes once they found out my little secret?

I nodded, squeezing out a plastic smile despite this gnawing unease, this shallowness in my chest that I’d refused to name. My family had no idea how hard I’d been struggling since my return—struggling to push Nik to the back of my mind. His ghost still haunted me, and like a shadow in the back of my thoughts, he lingered.

He was deep in my head, and no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t seem to get rid of him. Nik had left a mark on my soul, a print that I couldn’t wipe off so easily. Every now and then, I’d find myself thinking about him—the way he touched me, the way his lips devoured mine with an intense fervency. The night I surrendered to Nik, I felt like a woman. I felt alive, wanted, and adored. Now, I couldn’t stop reminiscing, couldn’t stop replaying that memory over and over again.

His hold over me was so strong that more times than once, I’d had to struggle not to play with myself just by thinking about him. Was I losing my mind? Why couldn’t I get him out of my head? What exactly was wrong with me?

My hands flew to my stomach, a reflexive response to the sudden disturbance inside.

“Are you alright?” Marco asked, concerned.

“I’m fine,” came my reply, my voice faint and even. “I just, uh…I just need a minute.” The slight pause came when I rose to my feet, pushed back my chair, and rushed to my room.

I raced up the stairs, holding back the urge to vomit with a hand clasped over my mouth. Through the hallway, my heels echoed as I ran, hoping I wouldn’t puke all over the floor. I pushed my door open and hurried to the bathroom, where I dropped to my knees, the tiles cool beneath my skin. I gripped the toilet, gasping as I vomited, my stomach turning, muscles straining.

Once done, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, flushed the toilet, and sat there on the floor for the next few minutes. My head was pounding like a drum, and my waist was killing me. These lapses in my health had been occurring and recurring over the past few weeks.

I knew why, and I hadn’t been sure at first until I realized that I’d missed my period.

I was pregnant.

My hands darted into my hair as I leaned against the wall, battling with my guilt, shame, and pain. My eyes misted, and I felt my tear glands charging up, but crying wouldn’t solve anything. I knew that letting him cum inside me was a bad idea, yet I let him do it anyway. Ironic how a moment of sweetness had now birthed my demise. I was in trouble, big trouble, but I was determined not to let anyone in on this little secret. No one had to know. No Romano family member was ever going to find out. Ever.

The best way to keep this hidden was to leave this house, and I had to do so as soon as possible before someone got suspicious.

I rose to my feet, headed over to the sink, and turned on the faucet. As the water rushed, I leaned in and rinsed my mouth, then washed my face before staring at my reflection in the mirror. I gripped the ceramic sink, my chest heaving with slow breaths as I thought of ways to leave my father’s house without raising suspicion.

I exhaled sharply, wiped my face with a clean white towel, and then left the bathroom. My head still hurt, and I felt so dizzy, like the world was swirling around me. Carefully, I strode over to my bed and lay on the mattress, hoping the headache would subside soon enough.

A few minutes later, I heard a knock on my door, the sudden disturbance drawing my attention toward the entrance. “Who is it?” I asked, my voice faint.

“It’s me,” Dad replied, his baritone sending tremors down my core.

My eyes widened, and I sat up immediately, wincing at the slight pang at the back of my head. “Come on in. It’s open,” I said, fingers massaging my temples.

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