Mafia's Surrogate Bride Chapter 12

Aria's POV

I stood frozen.

The sting of Adriana's slap still burned across my cheek, but it was nothing compared to the shock of seeing the kind old man from the café standing in the doorway.

Antonio Montrosso—Nonno—stepped into the room with the quiet authority that only came from decades of absolute power. Despite his age and the walking stick he leaned on, there was something undeniably commanding about his presence. The very air seemed to shift around him, and even Signora Russo straightened her already perfect posture.

"Adriana," his voice carried gentle reproach. "Your behavior is becoming increasingly rude and impulsive."

"Nonno, you don't understand," she said, her voice taking on a sweetly pleading quality. "This... this nobody destroyed my dress and then had the audacity to argue with me about it. She needs to learn her place."

The word 'nobody' hit me hard. I wrapped my arms around myself, aware of my cheap dress and scuffed shoes. I had no family name, no protection in this world of wealth and power.

Nobody. That's what I was to people like her. Someone who'd never gone hungry, never worried about money, never had to choose between pride and survival. My eyes started to water as I thought about Jessica in the hospital, depending on me to earn money for her treatment.

Antonio looked between his granddaughter and me. "You will apologize to Miss Rossi immediately."

"What?" Adriana's sweet mask dropped completely. "Nonno, I will absolutely not apologize to some temporary servant who—"

"Adriana." The single word cut through her protest. "You will apologize for your behavior, or you will return to your room and consider whether you're mature enough to attend tomorrow evening's gala."

Adriana's face grew more defiant. She straightened up, looking ugly with entitlement.

"She's just an outsider, Nonno," she said, pointing at me. "You're actually going to humiliate me—your granddaughter—to defend some nobody who doesn't even belong here?"

"That 'nobody' has shown more grace and dignity in the past ten minutes than you've displayed in months," Antonio replied. "Your sense of superiority is becoming a serious character flaw, child."

"You forget who I am, who we are. The Montrosso name commands respect throughout Italy. I have never been afraid of anyone or anything, and I certainly won't start with some orphan playing dress-up as a servant."

She threw my orphan status in my face like a weapon. My cheeks burned with shame. Of course she already knew about my background—probably from Signora Russo.

"Adriana, you will control your temper and show proper respect—"

"No," I interrupted quietly. Both Antonio and Adriana turned to look at me. "Please, Signor Montrosso, there's no need for this. It was an accident, and I should have been more careful."

I couldn't watch this kind old man be forced to choose between family loyalty and justice. He didn't deserve to have problems with his granddaughter because of me.

"Miss Rossi—" Antonio began, but I shook my head.

"Really, it's fine."

But Antonio's expression grew more determined. "Adriana, you will go to your room and reflect on your behavior. I will not have you embarrassing this family at tomorrow's charity gala."

Adriana clenched her fists. Her breathing became sharp and angry. When she finally spoke, her voice was low and threatening.

"This isn't over," she said, staring at me with pure hatred. "I will not forget this humiliation. And I absolutely will not forgive it."

She stormed from the room, her heels clicking angrily against the marble floor. The other trainees quickly busied themselves cleaning up, wanting to avoid attention.

Signora Russo looked like she'd swallowed something bitter. "I'll... oversee the cleaning," she said stiffly, shooting me a look that promised revenge.

When the room cleared, Antonio approached me. "Would you join me for a walk in the gardens, my dear? I think we both could use some fresh air."

I nodded, still stunned by everything that had happened. As we walked slowly through the estate's gardens, Antonio moving carefully because of his injured leg, I finally spoke.

"You're the one who arranged for me to get this position," I said.

"I am," he admitted simply.

"Why?" The question had been burning in my mind since I got that text message. "You don't know me. We spoke for maybe ten minutes in a café."

Antonio was quiet for a moment as we walked. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded sad.

"You remind me of someone," he said slowly. "Someone very dear to me who is no longer with us. My daughter-in-law—Adriana's mother—was a woman of remarkable beauty and grace. She had your same gentle spirit, your same instinct to help others even when you're struggling yourself."

We stopped beside a marble fountain. The water splashed gently.

"Adriana's mother was everything good and beautiful in this world. Kind, compassionate, selfless. But Adriana..." He sighed deeply. "As you can see, she inherited none of her mother's finer qualities. I've tried to guide her, to teach her the values her mother would have wanted. But perhaps I've been too indulgent, too willing to excuse her behavior because I miss her mother so desperately."

I thought about growing up without a mother, always wondering what it would be like to have someone who loved me unconditionally.

"I never knew my mother," I said quietly. "I was left at Sant'Anna Orphanage when I was five. I don't even remember her face."

Antonio's expression softened. "That must have been very difficult, growing up without that maternal warmth."

"It was. But it taught me not to take kindness for granted." I looked up at him. "What you've done for me—this opportunity—it means everything. My sister's medical bills—"

"How old are you, my dear?" he asked suddenly, his tone changing.

"Nineteen," I replied, confused by the question. "I'll be twenty in August."

Antonio stopped walking completely. His grip tightened on his walking stick. The look on his face was one of shock and hope.

"I'll be twenty in August." "August," he repeated. "You were born in August?" "Yes, sir. August fifteenth." "Madonna mia," he breathed. "You're exactly the same age as Adrian. He was also born in August—the fifteenth, the very same day."

"Signor Montrosso?" I asked carefully. "Is everything all right?"

He was staring at me as if seeing me for the first time, his pale eyes searching my face.

"Everything is very interesting indeed, my dear," he said finally, though his voice sounded distant. "Very interesting indeed."