It's been a few days since I witnessed that horrifying video of Ivan torturing the love of my life. The images haunt me, seared into my mind like a cruel brand. I try to stay strong for the tiny life growing inside me, but it's a constant battle. Every time the memories resurface, tears flow unbidden, and my thoughts spiral into the dark abyss of what horrors Stefano might be enduring at Ivan's merciless hands.

In a desperate attempt to find him, I tried calling the number Ivan used to contact me that fateful day. But it was a futile effort - the calls never connected. He must have used a burner phone, discarding it the moment our conversation ended. The video itself arrived on a phone Ivan mailed to me, a calculated move to avoid leaving a digital trail. As much as I loathe him, I can't deny his cunning. Had he sent it via email or social media, tracing the device back to him would have been far easier.

The Costanzo family has been relentless in their search for Stefano, mobilizing every resource at their disposal. Yet, even with their vast influence, progress remains elusive. I shudder to think of the lengths Ivan must have gone to in order to successfully abduct a man as formidable as Stefano.

Lost in the labyrinth of my thoughts, I almost miss the sound of my phone ringing. Glancing at the screen, I see it's my mother. I take a deep breath, steeling myself before answering.

"Hello, Mom," I say, my voice strained with the effort to sound normal.

"How are you doing, dear?" Her worry is palpable, even through the phone.

"I'm good. How about you?" I lie, not wanting to burden her further.

"I'm good too. How's the baby doing?"

"The baby's fine." I place a protective hand on my stomach, drawing strength from the life within.

"That's wonderful to hear." Mom pauses, her tone shifting. "How are you holding up? I can't imagine how difficult it must be, being pregnant with Stefano missing."

I close my eyes, swallowing the lump in my throat. "It's not easy, but I'm trying my best to stay strong. For the baby and myself."

"That's good, dear." Another pause. "There's something your brother and I wanted to discuss with you."

"I'm listening, Mom." Apprehension coils in my gut.

"With Stefano missing and the danger posed by Vladimir, we were thinking... maybe it's best for you and the baby to leave Sicily. Go somewhere safe until the Costanzo family handles this."

I understand their concern, but the thought of leaving, of being far away when Stefano is found, is unbearable. "I know it's not safe, that I should be as far from this city as possible. But I can't leave yet. I need to be here when they find him."

Mom sighs, her empathy evident. "I understand how you feel, dear."

Relief washes over me at her acceptance. "Thank you for not pushing the matter. How's Santiago?"

"He's doing fine, and send his love."

"That's good to hear." I manage a small smile, grateful for their support.

"I'll let you rest now. I'll call again later. Bye, love you."

"Love you too, Mom. Bye." After ending the call with Mom, I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. The need to know more about the search for Stefano propels me forward, and I find myself walking toward the gang's headquarters, my heart pounding with each step.

As I reach Thomas's office, I pause for a moment, my hand hovering over the door. I take another breath, steeling myself, and knock firmly.

"Avanti," Thomas calls out in Italian, his voice muffled by the heavy wooden door.

I step inside, the familiar scent of leather and aged whiskey enveloping me. "Hello, Thomas," I greet him, my voice sounding small in the spacious room.

Thomas looks up from the papers scattered across his desk, his brow furrowed with concern. "How are you doing today, Andrea?" he asks, his tone gentle, as if he's afraid his words might shatter me.

I sink into one of the plush chairs facing his desk, my hands instinctively coming to rest on my stomach. "I'm better than yesterday," I reply, trying to inject some strength into my voice.

A flicker of relief crosses Thomas's face. "That's good to hear." He leans forward, his eyes locking with mine. "I have good news for you. I was just about to call."

My heart leaps into my throat, hope blossoming in my chest. "Have you found Stefano?" I ask, my voice trembling with anticipation.

Thomas hesitates for a moment as if weighing his words. "We're not sure yet, but we have a location where we suspect Vladimir might be holding him."

"That's wonderful!" I exclaim, already rising from my seat. "When do we leave?"

Thomas holds up a hand, his expression stern. "There is no 'we,' Andrea. You're not going anywhere near that place, not while you're carrying the first Costanzo grandchild."

I sink back into the chair, frustration warring with the fear in my heart. "I don't plan to join the guys in raiding the place. I'll wait in the car. I just... I need to be there if you find him."

Thomas shakes his head, his jaw set. "Even so, I don't think it's a good idea for you to come along."

Desperation claws at my throat, and I lean forward, my eyes pleading. "Please, Thomas. I promise I won't leave the car. I can't just sit at home, waiting for news. I need to be there."

Thomas sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. "I'll think about it before we leave tonight," he relents, his tone making it clear that it's the best I'm going to get.

"Thank you," I breathe, a flicker of hope reigniting in my chest.

As I leave Thomas's office, my mind races with possibilities. The thought of being close when they find Stefano, of seeing him safe and whole again, is both exhilarating and terrifying.

***

Later that night, Thomas arrives at my room with a bulletproof vest in hand. My heart races as I realize what this means—I'm going with them. Aurora joins us, her presence a comforting reassurance that she'll be by my side, keeping me safe in the car.

As we arrive at the location where we suspect Stefano might be held, an eerie silence hangs in the air. Aurora and I wait in the car, our hands clasped together, as Thomas leads a group of men into the abandoned building. The minutes drag on, each second an eternity of uncertainty.

Suddenly, Thomas emerges from the building, his face contorted with rage. He kicks the car tires, a guttural scream of agony tearing from his throat.

"What's wrong?" I ask, my voice trembling as I step out of the car.

"Nothing," he replies, his eyes avoiding mine.

Aurora comes to stand beside me, her presence a steadying force. "Did you find Stefano?"

"No, we didn't," Thomas admits, anger seething beneath his words.

"What did you find inside that has you so worked up?" I press, a sense of dread settling in my stomach.

"Nothing," he insists, trying to compose himself.

I can see through his lie, my instincts screaming that something is terribly wrong. "I can tell you're not being honest. What did you find?"

"I'm not lying. We should leave," Thomas urges, attempting to guide me back to the car.

But I can't let it go. "I think I should see what's inside."

Aurora grabs my hand, her eyes fierce with determination. "Me too. Come on, let's go."

As we move towards the building, Thomas blocks our path. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why?" Aurora demands.

"Trust me, you don't want to go in there," Thomas warns, his head shaking.

"The more you try to keep me from seeing what's inside, the more I need to know." My voice is steady, even as fear grips my heart.

Thomas opens his mouth to respond, but he's interrupted by Samuel's approach. "We've confirmed it, Satto capo. The body... it belongs to boss ."

The world tilts on its axis, and I feel the blood drain from my face. "No," I scream, my denial a desperate plea against the truth.

I run into the building, bursting through the first door I find. The darkness engulfs me, and I fumble for my phone, switching on the light with shaking hands. As the beam illuminates the room, my phone slips from my grasp, clattering to the floor. I nearly follow, my legs giving out, but Thomas catches me before I crumple.

There, tied to a chair, is a body charred beyond recognition. "Please tell me it's not what I think," I beg, tears streaming down my face.

Thomas's eyes glisten with unshed tears. "I'm so sorry, Andrea."

"How sure are we that it's Stefano? It could be someone else," I plead, clinging to the faintest shred of hope.

Samuel's voice is heavy with sorrow. "We have a video that proves our theory, Ma'am."

"Let me see. I won't believe Stefano is dead until I see it with my own eyes." Anger surges through me, a white-hot fury directed at Ivan for the unimaginable pain he's inflicted.

"I don't think that's a wise decision, Ma'am," Samuel cautions.

"Show me!" I shout, my voice raw with desperation.

Samuel leads us to an adjoining room filled with computers and surveillance equipment. With a heavy sigh, he plays the video.

I watch in horror as a liquid is poured over Stefano's barely recognizable form, his body battered from relentless beatings. Ivan steps away, lighting a match and tossing it onto Stefano's prone figure. Flames engulf him, his screams of agony echoing through the speakers.

The realization that the love of my life, the father of my unborn child, is gone forever shatters my heart into a million jagged pieces. Stefano will never hold our baby, never watch them grow. I'll never see his smile again, never feel his arms around me.

As the truth settles like a leaden weight in my chest, a searing pain lances through my head. I massage my temples, but the ache only intensifies. The room spins, and Samuel's words fade into an indistinct blur. The last thing I hear is Aurora's scream before darkness claims me, a merciful respite from the unbearable agony of loss.

***

I wake to a dull throbbing in my head, the pain a distant echo of the anguish in my heart. As I blink away the haze of unconsciousness, I find myself in the familiar surroundings of my room, moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting a gentle glow.

"Andrea, how are you feeling?" Aurora's voice is thick with concern as she rushes to my bedside, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy.

"Other than a slight headache, I'm okay," I manage, my throat parched and raw. "Could I have some water, please?"

Aurora nods, reaching for the glass on the nightstand with trembling hands. As she passes it to me, I can't help but notice the telltale signs of her distress—the redness of her nose, the way she sniffles softly.

"Thank you," I murmur, taking a sip of the cool, soothing liquid. Setting the glass aside, I turn to her, my brow furrowed. "Why do you look like you've been crying?"

Aurora's lower lip quivers, fresh tears welling in her eyes. "You don't remember?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Confusion clouds my mind, a sense of unease settling in the pit of my stomach. "Remember what?"

"Stefano is..." She pauses, a sob catching in her throat. "He's dead, Andrea."

The words hit me like a physical blow, knocking the air from my lungs. I freeze, my mind reeling as the memories come flooding back—the abandoned building, the charred body, the video of Stefano's final moments. I had desperately wanted to believe it was all a nightmare, that I would wake up and we'd still be searching for him, that he'd be alive and well.

But as the truth sinks in, the realization that he's truly gone, I feel a part of my soul shatter. I'll never again feel his touch, breathe in his scent, taste his kisses, or even engage in our playful arguments. The future we dreamed of, the life we were meant to build together, has been ripped away in the cruelest of ways.

I sink back onto the bed; my body wracked with sobs as the full weight of my loss crashes over me. The pain is all-consuming, a yawning chasm of grief that threatens to swallow me whole. How am I supposed to go on without him? How can I face a world where he no longer exists?