"Not if we're smart about it," Scarlett counters. "I work at Mount Sinai, and there's a back entrance staff uses. My colleague Emma owes me about a dozen favors—she can run your bloodwork off the books."
"And what about our faces? Damiano's men will recognize us instantly."
Scarlett gives me a small smile. "Time for makeovers, ladies." She disappears into her bedroom, returning with wigs, and a makeup bag. "Lucrezia, you're going blonde. Zoe, we're making you a redhead. I knew that I would need all these wigs I keep from Halloween every year. "
Lucrezia claps her hands. "I've always wanted to try blonde!"
"And we're not using your real name," Scarlett adds, pulling out a set of scrubs. "You'll be wearing these. Staff barely look twice at other staff."
I hesitate, torn between fear of discovery and the growing certainty that something significant is happening to my body.
"Zoe." Scarlett takes my hands. "The hospital is three blocks away. We'll go in through the service entrance, see Emma, and be out in thirty minutes. But you can't keep ignoring this."
"She's right," Lucrezia says softly. "You look really sick."
I take a deep breath, finally nodding. "Okay. Let's do it."
I follow a nurse through winding hallways that all look the same—sterile white walls, gleaming floors, people in scrubs rushing past. My heart races fast, and I tug at the itchy red wig Scarlett insisted I wear. The blonde transformation makes Lucrezia almost unrecognizable beside me, especially with the thick-framed glasses completing her disguise.
"You're doing great," Scarlett whispers, dressed in her actual nursing scrubs. "Emma's waiting for us in the lab."
We turn another corner, and I nearly collide with a doctor rushing past. My stomach lurches, but not from nausea this time—from fear. What if Damiano's men are watching? What if Byron knows we're here?
Emma, a petite woman with kind eyes, takes my blood sample efficiently in a small examination room. "Results should be back within twenty minutes," she says, marking the vial with "Jane Smith."
"Thank you," I murmur.
While we wait, I stare at the ceiling, counting tiles toavoid thinking about what the test might show. Lucrezia holds my hand tightly, a silent show of support I never expected from someone I'd known for such a short time.
When Emma returns, her expression tells me everything before she even speaks.
"The results are positive," she says gently. "You're pregnant, about three weeks along. Although morning sickness is used to appear after the 4th week."
The room tilts slightly. I hear Scarlett gasp and feel Lucrezia's grip tighten.
"Are you certain?" I manage.
"Yes. Your hCG levels are quite definitive."
Three weeks. The timing fits perfectly. That day in Chicago in the woods behind Damiano's childhood home.
"Zoe?" Scarlett's voice sounds far away.
I nod mechanically. "The house in Chicago. We didn't use anything." My voice sounds hollow to my own ears. "I didn't even think about it after. My period's always been irregular anyway, and with everything that happened it was something that I just forgot about. Oh God, how stupid."
My hands move instinctively to my stomach. A baby. Damiano's baby. Growing inside me while I was planning to destroy him.
Emma explains some basic information about prenatal care, but her words wash over me like white noise.
"Thank you," I finally manage to say, gathering myself enough to meet her eyes. "I appreciate your discretion."
"Of course," Emma says, handing me some pamphlets. "These might help when you're ready to think about next steps."
Scarlett guides us back through the maze of hospital corridors, keeping her voice low. "We need to get you back home. You need rest and proper food?—"
"I just need to process this," I cut her off, tugging at the itchy red wig.
The walk back to Scarlett's apartment feels endless. None of us speak until we're safely inside with the door locked and bolted.
