"Wait." He called after me.
I turned, and he was pulling a pharmacy bag from the back seat.
"Your cuts need ointment, regular applications," he said.
I took the bag—full of anti-inflammatory stuff and swelling creams, probably what he'd had his guys grab on the way.
"Thanks," I murmured.
Back in the apartment, Stella had just woken from her nap, rubbing her eyes as she climbed into my lap.
"Mommy, where'd you go? Why's your face all red?"
I touched my cheek—the slap mark from Marco was still there.
"Mommy took a tumble." I lied, hugging her tight. "Sweetie, tomorrow night's gonna be special. Someone's coming for dinner."
"Who?" She tilted her little head.
"Your daddy." My voice wobbled. "Igor—he's your real dad."
Her eyes went huge, then she broke into this big grin. "For real? I like Igor!"
I stared at my five-year-old, stunned at how quickly she rolled with it.
"Are you mad?" I asked. "That Mommy didn't tell you sooner?"
"Nope. Not mad at all. I'm just happy I got a daddy now." She threw her arms around my neck, all sweet and giggly. "Now we're a real family with Igor, right?"
I squeezed her tight, tears spilling over again.
"Yeah, baby," I whispered. "We'll be a family."
If Igor could really show he'd changed. If he could learn respect instead of possession. If he could step up as a solid dad, a partner I could trust. Then maybe... we'd actually make it as a happy little family.
But this time, I wasn't jumping at promises. I'd make damn sure Stella didn't get hurt. She's the priority—my whole world. And anyone wanting in on our life? They'd have to earn her love first. Even if that's her own dad.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Elena
"Ms. Jensen, we need to talk."
On the other end of the line, Mr. Calovino's voice was as cold as a Milan winter rain. This was his third call this week, each one starting the same way, followed by twenty minutes of picking apart my designs.
"Of course, Mr. Calovino." I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice professional and calm. "About the revisions for the new collection—"
"No need for revisions." He interrupted, his tone laced with impatience. "Ms. Jensen, I think our collaboration might not be the right fit."
My heart sank like a stone.
"Wait, Mr. Calovino, if you could just give me one more chance—"
"I've already given you three." His voice grew even colder. "Frankly, I'm starting to question the professionalism of the 'Stella' brand. Maybe you should stick to something simpler instead of dreaming about the high-end market."
His words hit like a slap in the face.
"That's not fair." My voice trembled. "My designs matched youroriginal requirements. You're the one who's been changing the standards."
