I walk out of the examination room in a daze, clutching the packet of information he gave me about early pregnancy. The hallway feels too bright, too loud, like someone turned up the volume on reality.
Marco is waiting in the lobby, but he’s not alone. A pretty blonde nurse is leaning against his chair, laughing at something he’s saying. Her hand rests on his shoulder in a gesture that seems too familiar for a chance encounter.
“How was the appointment?” he asks when he sees me approaching.
“Fine. Just routine follow-up.”
“Great. You look better already.” He stands, and the nurse’s hand slides away reluctantly. “Ready to head home?”
“Actually, I need to stop by the pharmacy first.”
“No problem. Whatever you need.”
As we walk to the car, I notice Marco checking his phone again. Three text messages in the span of thirty seconds, all of which he dismisses without reading fully.
“Busy day?” I ask.
“You know how it is. Business never stops.”
But something about his tone feels off, the same evasiveness I noticed yesterday during our conversation about the Dante sightings. Combined with the Russian phone call and his suspicious behavior, a picture is starting to form that I don’t like.
At the pharmacy, I collect prenatal vitamins and the new pain medication Dr. Patterson prescribed. Marco waits in the car, engaged in another intense phone conversation that he ends abruptly when I return.
“Everything okay?” he asks, starting the engine.
“Should be, with time.”
My mind wanders on the drive back to the mansion. A baby changes everything. Our relationship, our security considerations, our future plans. Children of crime bosses become targets from the moment they’re born, living their entire lives under the shadow of their father’s enemies.
Can I bring a child into this world? Can I ask Alaric to risk loving someone else who might be taken away?
But even as the fears multiply, something else grows alongside them. A fierce protectiveness that surprises me with its intensity. This baby is mine, ours, created from genuine love instead of obligation or arrangement.
“Kasi?” Marco’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “We’re home.”
I look up to see the estate’s familiar gates, the manicured grounds that have become my sanctuary and my prison. Somewhere inside, Alaric is probably reviewing business reports or planning Boris Petrov’s demise.
How do I tell him that our dangerous world just became infinitely more complicated?
“Thanks for the ride,” I tell Marco, gathering my pharmacy bags.
“Anytime. And Kasi? If you need anything, anything at all, you know you can come to me, right?”
There’s something in his tone that makes me look at him more carefully. Concern, yes, but also something else. Something that feels like guilt.
“Of course. Thank you.”
I walk into the house, past the marble entryway and expensive artwork, carrying news that will change everything. Benedetto nods as I pass, probably noticing the pharmacy bags but too professional to comment.
In my room, I set the prenatal vitamins on my nightstand and stare at them. Such small pills to represent such an enormous shift.
A knock on the door interrupts my contemplation. “Come in.”
Alaric enters, still wearing the suit from whatever meetings consumed his afternoon. His eyes immediately go to the pharmacy bags, then to my face.
“Everything alright? How was the doctor?”
This is it. The moment where I either tell him the truth or find some excuse to delay the conversation.
