Page 68 of Beautiful Torment (Empire of Kings #1)

ABELLA

I deal with stress by throwing myself into work. In this case, I take on so much that I don’t have time to think. It’s easy to do right now with a long list of clients who want me to style them for the upcoming ball.

It’s been two weeks since our argument, and Angelo hasn’t touched me since.

Tension stretches between us every time we’re in a room together. And when we go to bed at night, it feels like there’s an ocean between us.

I know what I need to do. This isn’t how I wanted things to end between us, and I should apologize for what I said. But that will only make it harder to leave.

So, I let it fester instead.

The days start to blend together, and the strain wears on me.

I’m staying late at work every night, and I haven’t been sleeping enough or eating the way I should.

I’m chronically exhausted, and it’s taking a toll on my body.

My period only lasted a couple of days, which happens when I’m stressed.

And since that night, I’ve felt genuinely terrible.

When I end up with a migraine on one of my busiest days at work, I push through, thinking I can survive off sheer willpower. But by the end of the afternoon, my body makes the decision for me.

I’m clammy, woozy, and I vomit up what little I had to eat. When I step into the hall and Nicky sees me, he frowns.

“Jesus, you don’t look good,” he says.

“I need to go home.”

He hesitates. “Maybe we should take you to the doctor in the city first.”

“No.” I shake my head. “Mariella’s going to see me on the island. I already texted her.”

“Alright.” He reaches for his phone, and I stop him. “She’ll let Angelo know.”

It’s not exactly a lie, but it’s not the full truth either. Mariella will ask me what I want her to disclose, if anything. Right now, there’s no need to concern Angelo, especially when things aren’t good between us.

“Okay,” Nicky agrees. “Let’s get you home then.”

An hour later, Mariella greets us at the entrance with a worried expression. She helps me to the suite and into my pajamas before she gives me a quick exam and asks about my symptoms.

“You have a fever,” she tells me.

“I’m probably coming down with a bug. I haven’t been taking very good care of myself.”

She sits beside me on the bed and reaches for my hand, her eyes soft.

“Abella, you know you can tell me anything, and it stays between us.”

“I know.” My lip wobbles.

“I’ve noticed things have been…tense,” she says. “Is everything okay?”

I try to hold it back. I really do. But when I think about the last two weeks, something finally snaps.

I break down into another episode of gut-wrenching sobs, and Mariella tries her best to comfort me. It’s brutal, ugly, and painful, but this release is what I need.

These secrets and lies are poisoning me, and I can’t take it anymore. After a while, I finally just let it all spill out. Every horrible detail, right from the very beginning.

I tell her how my father and Silvio had agreed to have some tests done to make sure I was “fit” to carry the next Vitale heir. Angelo didn’t know because Silvio thought it would upset him.

On the day of the appointment, something came up and Silvio couldn’t make it, so he sent Matteo in his place. It was supposed to be quick and easy—some simple tests and imaging, and then I’d be on my way. Instead, the doctor came back with a somber expression.

He explained that I had a severe uterine malformation, and the chances of me getting pregnant were unlikely, but even if I did, my body wasn’t capable of sustaining it.

At first, I was in shock, and gradually, that gave way to disbelief.

I didn’t want to accept it, so I asked to see different doctors.

My father indulged the request, likely because he wanted his payday.

Matteo promised to keep the news to himself until we’d done everything we could.

But all four doctors told me the same thing. Eventually, I had to accept my reality.

They explained that, in my case, surrogacy would be the most viable option. Except, it wasn’t even an option for me. In the world of the Cosa Nostra, things were done the old-fashioned way.

My father and Matteo sat me down and told me I was no longer a suitable wife for Angelo. I couldn’t fulfill the requirements of the treaty, and just like that, the future I had planned was gone.

While I was in a state of numbness, the two of them came up with a plan.

When Matteo first proposed the idea of a marriage contract with him instead, I rejected it immediately.

But as my father belittled me and painted a picture of my future as a useless wife, the cold, harsh reality settled over me.

He told me he’d marry me off to someone regardless, and I would no longer have a say in who it was.

Matteo offered me temporary protection from being wed to anyone else. And because I was backed into a corner with no other options, I reluctantly agreed.

I never even got the chance to say goodbye to Angelo, since he was arrested before I could. With the contract between Matteo and my father already signed, they sent word to the prison, effectively denying me that last meeting.

After that, every letter and visit were refused.

Eventually, I tried to move on with my life…only to end up right back where I started.

“Abella.” Mariella’s voice wavers when I finally fall silent, having purged everything there is to say. When I glance up at her, she’s crying too.

“I wish you’d told me,” she says. “You shouldn’t have gone through that alone."

“I couldn’t even say it aloud to myself,” I confess. “Not until now.”

She considers that for a moment and nods. “I’d like to see the records. Do you have them?”

“Yes.” I glance at the closet. “They’re sewn into the lining of my mother’s red wool coat. Those are the only copies left. My father paid to have the others destroyed.”

A beat of silence passes, and I can see her mind working. I already know where she’s going with this.

“Will you let me run some tests myself?”

“I don’t see the point.” My gaze drifts to the wall. “I already had four doctors tell me the same thing. It feels like I’d just be torturing myself all over again.”

“Do you trust me?” Mariella asks.

“Of course I do.”

“Then please let me do this. After you’re better, I’ll get you in for some bloodwork and imaging.”

I nod, even though I know it won’t change anything.

A cold chill runs through my body, and I fight off another wave of exhaustion as Mariella jumps into action.

“Let’s get you into bed.” She pulls the covers back for me. “I’ll bring you some water and Tylenol.”

I utter my agreement as I curl up in the comforter, but almost as soon as she leaves the room, I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.