My blood was boiling, but I knew exactly what she was trying to do.
“I’m not going to kill you, Abriana. That’s not my style. But you’re going to wish that I had. You’re going to beg for it.”
“I will never beg a Coli for anything. My Gino loves me; he will never allow you and your haughty family harm a single hair on my head.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Abriana. Gino knows where his future lies, and it’s not with you. He all but swore allegiance to my father and me when we learned that it was you who was behind the wicked scheme. I think you’ll find that he is more of a Coli than a Ferrari. That must hurt. I’d say I’m sorry, but that would be a lie.”
“You snotty son of a bitch! You’ll pay for this.”
From behind us, I heard a gunshot. Fabio and I immediately fell to the floor in an attempt to protect ourselves from the shooter. His identity made us freeze. It was Mario. He had a cold expression on his face. Fabio and I looked back at Abriana, who was doubled over, holding her chest.
“Fuck you, bitch. Go to hell where you belong. You took the life of my friend; now, I’ll take yours. The world is not going to miss you. I’ll make sure of that. There will be none of the pomp and ceremony that goes with a burial. I’m going to make sure that they never find your body. This is the end of the Ferrari legacy. Goodbye, Abriana.”
With that, he stood over her and watched as life flickered in her eyes, and then she died. He threw her lifeless body over his shoulder.
“I’ll see you boys later.”
Fabio and I stared in silence as he left the room. The chaos outside had subsided. The enemy was defeated. We were safe.
Epilogue
ELEANORA
I was breathing heavily, beads of sweat collecting on my forehead. My mother grabbed the phone and dialed Joe’s office number.
“Joe, come home, now. Ella needs to go to the hospital.” Her face was a roadmap of wrinkles; worry and stress had aged her overnight. She was expecting the worst.
By the time Joe arrived, I was downstairs, curled up into a ball. It was a very difficult pregnancy. The emotional shock and physical trauma I’d sustained during the kidnapping took its toll on me. I wasn’t sure if the baby would survive.
“Are you okay, my love?” Joe asked as he lifted me off the couch and carried me to the car.
“Oh, Joe. I'm so scared. What if our baby dies? It’s too soon for him to be born. I can’t lose him, Joe, I can’t.”
“I called the hospital before I left for home, my love. The doctors are standing by.”
As he picked me up off the couch, a mini explosion erupted from me. Clear fluid mixed with blood was streaming down Joe’s pants.
“Oh God, Joe, get me there now!”
My mother grabbed her purse and ran after us as Joe sprinted to the car at breakneck speed. He lay me down gently on the back seat. My mother got in the back with me, put my head on her lap, and wiped the sweat from my face.
“Hold on to her, Alicia. I’ll get us there as quickly as I can.”
“Oww,” I breathed as the drive seemed to drag on and on. The contractions were moving over me in waves, each one stronger than the last. I’d had painful periods before, and I remembered an aunt told me once that contractions felt similar to menstrual pain. This was nothing like I’d ever experienced before. The pressure in my pelvis was scary and painful.
“I’m in pain! Hurry!” Poor Joe was trying to keep calm and pacify me, but it was no use. Heat was radiating from my back, spreading to my legs. How the fuck can this be so painful?
I was just thirty-four weeks pregnant. Terrified that our baby had sustained injuries early on in the pregnancy, I was a nervous wreck. My mother’s eyes were glossy from crying. It broke my heart that I was putting her through such trauma after the recent death of my father. It had been a really bad year for all of us.
I heard a siren. “Fuck!” Joe kept driving like a bat out of hell, the siren sticking close behind us.
“Joe, what’s going on?” My mother touched his shoulder as he was cursing.
“Of all the times I’ve been pulled over by cops, this is the worst timing ever! I’m not stopping. I don’t care if they lock me up.”
The cop car pulled up beside us, the driver gesticulating for Joe to pull over. Joe opened his window and shouted at the cop, “I can’t pull over! My wife is in premature labor. I won’t lose our son!”
The cop gave him a thumbs up and pulled ahead of us. He kept his siren on, which was a godsend, as all the cars pulled over as we shot by them. At this pace, we’d get to the hospital in no time. I was eternally grateful—baby Coli was on his way out, and he wasn’t taking no for an answer.
Outside the ER doors, two nurses stood waiting for me, stretcher at the ready. Joe picked me up carefully and lay me on the stretcher. He held my hand as the nurses pushed me into the operating theatre. The surgeon was dressed in his scrubs, ready to deliver our little miracle baby.
Because I’d had such a difficult pregnancy, the plan was always to deliver via c-section. My doctor didn’t want to take any chances. There was no time for pain relief or any such measures, so the best option was to put me under
