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103. GIULIANNA

Author: Archnemesis
last update Last Updated: 2025-07-23 23:52:50

The road blurred into streaks of gold and slate as we drove through the countryside, our tires eating up the distance with a hum that barely masked the chaos still echoing in my ears. My hands were trembling, but I kept them on Sofia's chest, the pulse point in her neck, my other arm clutching her wrist. She had passed out again, her breath shallow and mouth slightly parted.

Matteo drove like a man possessed, one hand on the wheel, the other pressing his hoodie tighter against the bleeding wound on her arm. I knew what he was doing—keeping pressure to stop the bleeding, but every second her color seemed to pale further. Her curls were soaked in sweat, and I could see the beginnings of fever already setting in.

We didn’t speak.

There was nothing to say when death was crawling into the car with us.

But then, somewhere between silence and madness, I saw a familiar black SUV flash its headlights from a side road. Matteo slammed the brakes.

"Enzo," he muttered, eyes flicking to the rearvie
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  • His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim   135. GIULIANNA

    The conversation didn’t end in the grand hall. No, nothing ever ended there. The Bianchi family preferred their victories sealed behind closed doors, away from the watchful eyes of the servants and the echoing gold-lit ceilings. Uncle Carlo led us out with a curt gesture, like a general expecting his soldiers to follow. We moved through the long marble corridor, Sofia’s small steps pattering beside me, her fingers still knotted with mine. Matteo walked just behind, close enough that I could feel his presence, the faint brush of his arm against mine every few steps. They brought us to the study, a room thick with cigar smoke and the scent of old leather. The doors closed, locking us in with the weight of centuries of family power. Carlo sat behind my father’s old desk. Aunt Luciana perched in a chair by the fire, diamonds catching the flames. My cousins lingered by the bookshelves, pretending to browse titles but hanging on every word. “You’ll be married within the week,” Carlo be

  • His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim   134. GIULIANNA

    The grand hall of Villa Bianchi had always been a place that could crush you without a word. The high ceilings, the golden chandeliers, the way the portraits of our ancestors stared down at you like silent jurors it was enough to make even the most ruthless man in the room stand straighter. And tonight… I was the one under their gaze. Matteo’s hand was warm against the small of my back as we walked in, Sofia holding my other hand so tightly her little knuckles had gone pale. She was staring up at the ceiling like she’d stepped into a fairytale, unaware that every single person in the room had stopped talking the moment we entered. I recognized them all. Uncles in their tailored suits, aunts in their jewels and silk gowns, cousins who had grown up with a silver spoon and a loaded pistol in their bedside drawer. The Bianchi bloodline, my bloodline, was gathered here like a pack waiting to see if the heir still belonged to them. “Giulianna,” my uncle Carlo was the first to speak, hi

  • His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim   133. Giulianna

    The gates of Villa Bianchi creaked open with an unsettling grace. Iron-wrought and towering, they opened not with warmth, but with silent judgment. I could feel it the way the earth beneath this land breathed legacy and blood. A past I wasn’t ready to face. A name I never asked to carry. Yet here I was, standing in the very courtyard that raised my mother and now threatened to swallow me whole.Dozens of men in tailored suits lined the entrance, most of them older, stone-faced, whispering names behind my back that I never learned to answer to.“You're back,” I heard one of them mutter.My fingers clenched instinctively around Matteo’s hand.He gave it a small squeeze. He hadn’t let go since we left the hospital. Since I signed that paper. Since I made the choice to let my mother go.They took her off life support exactly thirteen days ago. I’ve counted every one. I still hear the beeping in my sleep. I still remember the way her skin felt—cold, soft, already somewhere else.And now I

  • His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim   132. GIULIANNA

    The sky over Italy was gray when we landed.Not the kind of gray that promised a storm but the lifeless kind. Still. Cold. Hollow. Like the air knew what I’d done. Like the earth was holding its breath with me.I sat motionless in the jet’s seat, staring blankly through the window as the wheels kissed the runway. My fingers were numb in Matteo’s hand, though he never let go. His thumb kept brushing circles into my palm, grounding me, like he knew I hadn’t fully come back to earth since I pulled the plug.It had only been a few days. But grief doesn’t follow days. It moves like smoke. Filling everything. Pressing against your ribs. Clogging your voice.And right now, it was suffocating me.“Giuli,” Matteo said softly, the way you speak to someone standing on a ledge. “We’re here.”I swallowed hard, nodded once, and stood.The doors of the jet opened, and the wind hit my face. Cold. Italian. Real.And then I saw them.Lined across the tarmac-like soldiers before a queen a fleet of black

  • His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim   131. GIULIANNA

    It was raining again.The kind of rain that made everything feel heavier—like the sky itself was mourning with me. I sat in the hospital’s garden, the plastic chair cold and slick beneath me, the hood of my sweater pulled up even though it didn’t do much to keep the water off my face. I couldn’t tell if the wetness on my cheeks was rain… or the tears I’d run out of days ago.Three weeks.Three weeks of sterile white walls, slow beeping monitors, and words I never wanted to learn.Three weeks of watching my mother float somewhere I couldn’t reach—trapped in a body that no longer held her.And now they wanted me to choose."Let her rest.", "She wouldn’t want this.", "She’s gone, Giulianna."They said her brain was already dead. That the machines were just pretending. Just moving her lungs up and down like clockwork, pumping blood through a heart that no longer understood why it beat.They didn’t see her fingers twitch.They didn’t feel her warmth when I held her hand.They didn’t sit be

  • His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim   130. GIULIANNA

    It had been nineteen days.Nineteen days of white walls and fluorescent lighting and beeping machines that never shut the hell up.Nineteen days of whispered prayers I didn’t believe in and cold coffee cups and doctors who couldn’t meet my eyes.And now they were saying she was gone. Not dead. But gone."Brain death is irreversible," the neurologist said, his voice flat, rehearsed. “The scans are clear. There’s no cortical activity. No response to stimuli. Her brain stem is functioning only enough to regulate her heartbeat. She’s on full life support, Giulianna. The machines are doing everything now.”I heard the words, but I couldn’t seem to process them. They just floated in the sterile air like smoke I couldn’t grab.Matteo was beside me, his hand clamped around mine. He hadn’t let go since we walked into the ICU that morning.Everyone else was already outside.The doctors. The nurses. My aunts and uncles who had flown in and were now sitting in the waiting area whispering behind t

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