The Don's Unwanted Bride

CHAPTER 5

Alyssa’s POV

I shook my head, trying to downplay the weight of the moment, but her instincts were sharp. Before I could react, she lunged forward and snatched the phone from my grasp.

“Wait, no—” I cried out, but it was too late. Estina had already disconnected the call.

Her mother stared at the phone in disbelief. Her hands trembled as she lowered it slowly. “That was Estina,” she whispered. “That was my Estina... I know that voice anywhere.”

Then, she broke into sobs.

Gut-wrenching cries that shook her frail shoulders. Her grief tore through the silence, echoing in the living room like a ghost that had finally found its voice.

I stood frozen, helpless, watching her crumble before me. My chest tightened with guilt.

“I need to know,” she said between sobs, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Who are you? Why did you call her? What do you know about my daughter?”

I swallowed hard, heart pounding. Telling her the truth would destroy everything. But lying any longer would only deepen the crack already splitting open.

“I… I know Estina,” I said quietly.

She stopped crying for a moment and looked up at me. Her expression was a mix of confusion, fear, and growing suspicion.

“You know her? From where?”

“She gave me your address. She asked me to come here,” I confessed.

Her body stiffened, and a pause filled the air like an oncoming storm. Then her eyes narrowed.

“Who are you?” she asked again, more firmly this time.

I opened my mouth but said nothing. How could I tell her who I really was? That I was the daughter of Nicholas Martini? That her daughter had sent the daughter of a Mafia King to live in her home, disguised as an orphan? I couldn’t.

“Who are you?!” she repeated, voice rising.

I backed away slightly, my palms up in defense. “Please, I can’t tell you. Not now.”

Her face hardened. “If you don’t tell me right this minute, I’m calling the police. I’ll tell them you’re hiding my daughter. I don’t care who you are!”

Panic surged in my chest. If the police got involved, it would all be over. My identity would be revealed. My father would find me. Hayden might find me. And I would be dragged back into that life.

I quickly redialed Estina, hands shaking.

“Pick up, pick up,” I whispered like a prayer.

The line rang twice, three times.

“Estina,” I breathed when she finally answered.

“Alyssa? What’s happening?” she asked, voice tight.

“Your mom… she wants to call the police. She thinks I’m hiding you.”

There was silence.

“Estina, I need you to fix this,” I begged. “My cover can’t be blown. Not now.”

She sighed heavily. “Put me on speaker.”

I did as told and held the phone toward the woman.

“Mom,” Estina said softly.

The woman froze, her tears instantly drying as if someone had flipped a switch.

“Esti? Baby, is that you?”

“Yes, Mom. It’s me.”

A fresh wave of sobs overtook her. “Oh, my baby. My sweet girl. I’m so sorry… I didn’t know where to find you. I thought you were dead.”

“I’m alive. And I’m okay. But Mom, listen to me. Alyssa… she needed a place to stay. I sent her to you. I knew you’d help her.”

The woman paused. “Why didn’t you come yourself? Why send someone else?”

Estina was silent for a long moment. “Because I couldn’t face you. Not after what you did. Not after you sold me.”

The words hit the room like thunder. Her mother recoiled as if she’d been slapped.

“Esti… I didn’t have a choice…”

“You always had a choice,” Estina said, voice trembling.

I felt like an intruder, standing between decades of pain and secrets.

Then the woman shifted, eyes locking onto mine.

“Who is she?” she asked.

“She’s the daughter of Nicholas Martini,” Estina said.

The woman gasped, stepping back so suddenly she nearly fell. “Nicholas Martini? No… no, no, no. You sent the Mafia King’s daughter to me?!”

“She needed help,” Estina said simply.

“Do you know what he’ll do to me if he finds out? I’ve been harboring his daughter. He’ll kill me!”

I stepped forward. “Please. He doesn’t know. No one knows. That’s why I stayed hidden.”

“Why are you even hiding from him?” she asked, looking between me and the phone.

I opened my mouth but Estina cut in. “It’s a long story, Mom. One she’s not ready to tell.”

The woman seemed to spiral. She ran a trembling hand through her hair. “I can’t do this. I can’t keep you here. I’ll be dead if he finds out. Do you understand that?”

“You don’t even know if he’s looking for her,” Estina argued.

“You think a man like Nicholas Martini doesn’t look for his missing daughter?”

She was hysterical now, pacing back and forth. Then without another word, she ended the call and tossed the phone onto the couch.

“Wait—” I said, stepping toward her.

But she was already storming into my room. I heard drawers opening, hangers scraping, the zip of my suitcase.

“What are you doing?” I asked, following her.

“You have to leave,” she said, not looking at me. “Now.”

“Please. Just give me one more night.”

“No.”

She shoved clothes into the bag, zipped it with finality, and thrust it into my arms.

“Out,” she said.

And just like that, I was back on the streets. My identity exposed to someone new. My safe haven gone. And the fear of what came next looming over me like a dark cloud.