Chapter 75: Turbulent Triumph
Bianca agreed to finally leave her son’s life, as the price to be paid for her freedom.
The forest spat her out like a rejected soul.
Bianca stumbled forward, the roots clawing at her ankles, the mist curling around her shoulders like cold fingers.
Larissa Forest had taken its price, and she felt every ounce of it pressing against her ribs, crushing her breath.
Her knees buckled, and she collapsed on damp earth, clutching at her chest.
"Jackson". Her son’s name burned on her tongue.
She tried to whisper it, trembling lips forming the syllables.
But before the sound escaped, her throat seared with fire.
A scream tore through her, sharp and raw, as if invisible hands had strangled her into silence. The curse was real.
She could no longer call him.
Her boy—the one she had dreamed of, and made promises never to leave him again.
The forest’s magic had ripped away her right to him as the coin price, and now the bond between mother and child was nothing but a bleeding wound that would never close.
Bianca clawed at the dirt, sobs shaking her shoulders.
The trees around her groaned, their hollow trunks echoing her grief.
She pressed her palms to her face and howled into them, the sound swallowed by the night.
"Why this hard decision ? Why this painful decision?" she croaked when the pain loosened its grip enough to let her breathe. "Take me, curse me, bury me alive... but not this hard painful decision ."
But the forest never bargained twice.
When she staggered to her feet, the weight of the curse followed her.
Her reflection in a nearby puddle shimmered strangely. Her once radiant face looked hollow, her eyes sunken, and a faint shadow coiled beneath her skin like veins of smoke. She reached to touch her cheek, but her hand trembled uncontrollably.
The curse was more than distance. It was eating her alive already.
*****
Bianca wandered beyond the forest, stumbling into abandoned chapels, ruined villas, the shadows of villages where no one dared ask about her past.
Each night, she dreamed of her son and his new family, and now they will be his only family forever, without her been involved.
It drove her mad.
She began carving his name into tree trunks, into stone, into her own skin when desperation clawed too deep.
But every mark she made faded before her eyes, vanishing as though the world itself refused to acknowledge her connection to him.
"You’re not his mother," the wind hissed each time it tore through her ragged cloak.
"You sold him," the rivers gurgled when she bent to drink.
"You will never hold him again," the night crows cawed from their perches.
Bianca covered her ears until they bled, but the voices never stopped.
***
It was on the third night that the shadows came.
She had collapsed near the ruins of an old estate, half-conscious with hunger, her lips cracked, her body shivering under the moon’s pale light. Sleep dragged at her, heavy and merciless, but a sound woke her. A voice unlike any she had ever heard.
"Bianca.".... Her heart stilled.
The voice was smooth, honeyed, yet carrying an edge sharp enough to flay her soul.
It didn’t come from the air or the earth but from inside the darkness itself.
"You gave up what was most precious, and you have always put yourself where you didn’t belonged. Luca and Alessia’s life ," it purred. "And now you wander, hollow.. Forgotten and Empty."
Bianca’s eyes darted wildly, searching. "Who’s there?"
The shadows stirred at the edges of the ruin.
They thickened, pulling together like smoke into shape. Two red embers blinked open it’s eyes.
A smile, white and merciless, stretched across the dark.
Bianca staggered back, clutching her chest. "Stay away... "
"You’re already mine," the voice said. "The forest bound you to loss. I can free you, you will get the black book, Luca could be your husband again and you will be in your son’s life."
Her throat tightened. "Free me?"
"Yes." The shadow slithered closer, its form neither man nor beast but something older, deeper. "I can return him to you. Your son. Whole, alive, yours again. No curse. No chains."
Bianca’s breath hitched. The offer was everything her bones ached for. But she wasn’t naive. "What do you want in return?"
The shadow’s smile widened. "Service. Loyalty. A vow written in your blood. I am the keeper of the Black Book, and I require hands in this world. You, Bianca, will be my hand. My voice. My weapon."
The name, The Black Book made her blood run colder than ice. She had heard whispers of it, legends tangled with mafia oaths and blood moons.
The book that devoured souls, the book men killed and died for.
And now, its master was here.
"I..." Her lips quivered. "If I say yes... I will see him again?"
The shadow leaned close, its ember-eyes burning into hers. "More than see. You will cradle him, kiss him, raise him. The curse will vanish. All I require... is you."
Bianca’s body shook. Her mind screamed warnings, but her heart the hollow, bleeding cavity where her son once was drowned them out.
A tear slipped down her cheek. "I would sell my soul a thousand times for him."
The shadow’s laugh rolled like thunder.
The ruins quaked. Bianca fell to her knees as darkness swarmed around her, coiling up her arms, burrowing beneath her skin like fire and ice all at once.
She screamed, the sound tearing into the night. The air smelled of sulfur, blood, and old earth.
Her veins lit with black fire, branding her. She felt the curse of the forest twist, shift, and settle into something deeper. A chain not of loss, but of servitude.
Her reflection in the broken glass beside her no longer looked like Bianca.
Her eyes were rimmed in shadow, her beauty sharpened into something predatory, her smile curved crueler.
The shadow bent low, its mouth brushing against her ear.
"Now you are mine. You will serve me. And in time... your son will return."
Bianca’s breath trembled. "Tell me your name."
The shadow leaned back, its smile like knives, its ember-eyes gleaming brighter.
"I am the one who owns the Black Book." It paused, savoring her trembling. Then, softly, like a dagger sliding between ribs:
"And now, Bianca... I own you."....
******
The moment Alessia’s body went limp against him, Luca felt the world collapse beneath his feet.
His heartbeat drummed like war thunder as he caught her, his chest burning with terror.
He gathered her into his arms without a second thought, his voice breaking as he shouted for his men.
The music cut off with a harsh silence, the once-romantic atmosphere drowned by the heaviness of dread.
Luca carried her out like a man possessed, his eyes wild, his soul clawing for air.
His convoy of black cars followed as he drove her himself, his hands trembling on the wheel, his jaw tight.
The streets blurred before him, but all he saw was her pale face and her closed eyes.
Minutes felt like lifetimes.
In the emergency room, Luca paced like a caged lion, his dark suit damp with sweat.
His fingers tugged at his hair, his breath ragged.
The guards dared not speak, for their boss’s despair was more terrifying than his fury.
When the doctor finally appeared, Luca nearly pounced forward.
His voice cracked, raw with desperation.
"What... what is wrong with her? Please... " his throat constricted, his chest heaving, "I’m ready to bleed out my last drop of blood if it will keep her safe. Just tell me and she will live."
The doctor, an older man with calm eyes, let a smile curve his lips.
"Relax, Mr. Luca Morano," he said softly. "Your wife isn’t in danger. In fact... " he paused for effect, his smile widening, "Congratulations. Your wife is two weeks pregnant. What you witnessed was simply her body reacting to the strain. In the early stages, the body works double... hormones surge, blood pressure shifts, and sometimes fainting spells happen. Stress can make it worse."
Luca blinked, the words slamming into him.
His mouth parted, but no sound came out at first. Pregnant... Alessia.... His Alessia carrying his child.
The doctor continued kindly, "She must take it easy now, no overexertion, no heavy emotional strain, and less physical stress. Rest, nutrition, peace of mind and those will carry her safely through the months ahead. If you want to protect her, Mr. Morano, ensure she isn’t weighed down by worry."
For the first time in years, a smile genuine, soft, unshackled by the weight of his name broke across Luca’s face.
It was a smile born of pure joy, one he didn’t even recognize within himself.
He reached forward, gripping the doctor’s hand tightly, as if clinging to a lifeline.
"Thank you, doctor. Thank you for saving my heart."
"You may see her now," the doctor nodded.
Luca’s feet carried him swiftly into the room.
There she was. His queen. Awake, her lashes fluttering like fragile wings, her smile faint but warm. The moment their eyes met, the storm in his chest calmed.
"My love..." Luca whispered, his voice hoarse.
He crossed the room in three strides, sank beside her, and without hesitation pressed his lips reverently to her stomach, then to her forehead.
His touch trembled as though he were kneeling before something divine.
Alessia’s eyes widened. "I didn’t know... I was pregnant," she breathed, her voice still weak. "But I... I saw my periods."
"That happens sometimes," Luca murmured, brushing her hair back tenderly. "It doesn’t matter. What matters is... you’re carrying our future." He cupped her face with a gentleness no one else had ever seen in him, only her.
Her eyes glistened as tears slipped free. "We’re going to be parents..."
"In nine months," Luca finished for her, his voice thick with awe. "You have given me the one thing I never dared to dream of." His lips found hers briefly, then pressed again to her belly as though promising eternal devotion.
"I love you without wax, my queen," Luca said, his words ringing with a vow that echoed into eternity.
Alessia touched his cheek with trembling fingers, her voice breaking as she whispered, "And I love you without wax, my king."
Their souls wrapped around each other in that moment, no shadows, no fear, only love so powerful it rewrote the walls of their hearts.
And then....
A vibration shattered the stillness.
The sharp buzz from Luca’s pocket ripped through the fragile miracle of their silence. His brows furrowed, reluctant, but duty tugged at him.
Slowly, he reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone.
The name flashing across the screen made his pulse stumble.
Donato.
His elder brother is calling.....