The Mafia Don's Secret

CLARA

"Are you sure about selling your eggs?" the doctor asked as I sat in his cramped office. His voice was calm, almost too calm, as if this was just another routine day for him.

I glanced at the stack of paperwork in front of me. My hands were trembling as I grabbed the pen. I didn’t want to be here. This wasn’t what I wanted for myself.

But my phone buzzed again in my pocket, and I knew exactly what the message said without even looking.

"If you do not pay within three days, your aunt’s operation will be canceled."

Three days. That was all the time I had. And I barely had enough money for food, let alone the operation fees.

I sighed heavily and shoved the phone back into my pocket. Aunt Maggie’s medical bills were piling up, and the hospital wasn’t going to wait for me to figure things out.

“No,” I admitted quietly, “I’m not sure about this.”

The doctor’s face softened. “You don’t have to go through with it. There’s still time to back out.”

Lucaa, sitting next to me, leaned forward. “Clara, we’ve talked about this. You’ve tried everything else. This is your only option now.”

I turned to Lucaa, the only sister-like woman who had always been there for me when no one else was. She had suggested this clinic as a last resort. A part of me hated her for it, but the truth was, I hated myself even more for agreeing to come.

I looked down at the papers, feeling a lump in my throat. Aunt Maggie’s face flashed in my mind—how pale and tired she looked. She took me in when no one else would, even when my life was at its worst. I couldn’t let her die.

"I don't have a choice." I said before letting my hands move on its own, signing my name.

When it was over, I left the clinic clutching an envelope stuffed with cash. My body ached in ways I didn’t expect, I felt a strange emptiness like I had just let off a whole bag of burdens from my shoulder, and my body would never be the same before, but then… I couldn’t think about that.  

The first thing I did was go to the hospital. I handed the money to the receptionist with shaking hands, almost afraid she’d tell me it wasn’t enough. But she nodded, stamped the receipt, and said, “We’ll proceed with the operation immediately.”

I walked out of the hospital feeling like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. The knot in my chest that had been there for weeks finally loosened.

Standing outside the operating room, I let out a deep breath. I didn’t cry, but I felt like I could. Aunt Maggie would get the help she needed. For once, I had done something right.

That evening, my phone buzzed. I looked at the screen and saw Xavier’s name. My boyfriend—or maybe I should call him my ex.

“You sold your eggs?” his voice was loud, sharp, and accusing.

“Xavier—” I started, but he cut me off.

“You wouldn’t even sleep with me, but you’ll do this? You’re disgusting. We’re done!”

"Hold on, have you been spying on me?" I questioned, mentally wondering how he had gotten to know about it. 

"Does it even matter?" He yelled. "You just proved how worthless you are, Clara. I'm sorry, but I can't continue with someone so useless and full of no hope."

Hearing him want to break up with me wasn't what hurt the most, what hurt was him refering me as a useless and full of no hope girl. Those words only reminded me of my life history, and that was something I hated to recall.

I fought the tears back but they kept falling. I had known for a while that things between us weren’t working, but to end it like this? I glared around to be sure no one was looking, especially not Lucaa. If she ever gets to know, she'd break the whole world just to have Xavier apologise.

"Did you hear what I just said?" If not of his voice, I would have thought the line went dead.

I didn't say a word. What was I supposed to say? To apologise for not being faithful and loyal like he wanted me to? Or to start my family history and why things had to be the way they are now?

No. I had more important things to worry about than a boyfriend who couldn’t understand what I was going through.

“You’re impossible to be with, Clara,” he had said once before. “All you care about is work. No man is ever going to put up with you.”

Maybe he was right. Maybe no one would ever understand me. But at least I understood myself.

I deleted his number and shoved the phone into my pocket. He wasn’t worth my time.

That night, I sat by Aunt Maggie’s hospital bed. Her face still looked pale, but there was a hint of color returning to her cheeks.

“When you’re better,” I said softly, holding her hand, “will you try to quit drinking? For me?”

Her eyes filled with tears. “I’ll try, Clara. I promise.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Don’t just try. I need you to stop. Completely.”

She didn’t respond right away, and I knew how hard it would be for her. But seeing her like this—weak, vulnerable—it broke my heart. I couldn’t lose her.

For the first time in a long time, I felt a spark of hope. Maybe things could get better. Maybe we could both heal.

Two months passed, and things did improve. Aunt Maggie’s health was steadily getting better. She had started an alcohol withdrawal program, and for the first time, I believed she could make it through.

But then, everything came crashing down.

I checked my bank account one evening, expecting to see the small amount of money I had managed to save. Instead, the balance read: $0.00.

“Zero dollars?” I muttered in disbelief, refreshing the page over and over again.

I called the bank, I wanted to know what happened and how the money had mysteriously disappeared.

“I’m sorry,” the representative said, “but the account holder withdrew the funds yesterday.”

The account holder. That was me.

My heart sank. “But I didn’t withdraw anything,” I said.

“Perhaps someone else with access to the account?”

Only one person came to mind. Uncle Mark.

I decided to give him a call. At first, I wasn't expecting him to respond. But now he did, that's a relief. "Uncle Mark, you took the money, didn't you?"

There was a long pause before he laughed bitterly. “I had a bad streak at the tables, Clara. I’ll pay it back when I can.”

“Pay it back?” I shouted. “That money was for Aunt Maggie’s treatment! How could you do this?”

“Calm down, kid,” he muttered. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.” Then hung up.

I stared at the phone in disbelief. He had hung up. I tried calling back, but he only busied my call.

My chest ached as I sobbed into my hands. My life was a never-ending cycle of trying to fix what my family broke. Every time I thought things might get better, someone like Uncle Mark would come along and ruin it.

Why did I keep trying? Why did I let them drag me down over and over again?

“Clara?”

I looked up to see Lucaa standing in the doorway. Her face was full of concern, and for some reason, that made me cry even harder.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I choked out. “I can’t keep fixing their messes. I can’t keep—”

“Hey, hey,” she said, crossing the room to sit beside me. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure something out. We always do.”

Those words reminded me of Uncle Mark's words. I shook my head, not wanting to believe there was a second hope. “We can't, Lucaa. Not this time.”

Lucaa waited until I had calmed down before she spoke again.

“Clara,” she said, a little hesitant. “Can I ask you something? Have you noticed anything… different about yourself lately?”

I frowned. “What do you mean?” I wasn't expecting that question.

“Like, have you been feeling tired? Or sick? Or… anything strange?”

I thought about it for a moment. “I’ve been more tired than usual, but that’s probably just from work. And… my period hasn’t come, but I read that’s a side effect of the egg retrieval.”

Lucaa’s face turned serious, almost panicked.

“What?” I asked, my stomach twisting. “What’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she pulled something out of her jacket pocket and handed it to me.

A pregnancy test.

My heart stopped.

“Take it,” she said urgently. “Now.”

“What?” I stammered. “That’s impossible. I mean, I haven’t—”

“Just take it, Clara,” she insisted. “Please.”

I decided to take it, though I hated how things were turning out. I gave her a long look before heading for the bathroom.

I locked myself in the bathroom, my hands shaked as I unwrapped the test. This was ridiculous, I know. There was no way I could be pregnant.

Was there?

I stared at the test for what felt like forever, waiting for the results to appear. When they did, my entire world tilted.

Positive.

I am pregnant?