Leo had pulled me out, wrapped me in his arms, stayed with me all night like I might slip away again.
Still, what if something happened to the baby? What if it was deprived of oxygen for too long?
Leo said my heart stopped beating, that I stopped breathing for long enough to be dead.
And if my life stopped, even for a brief time, I have no clue what damage that would cause to a fetus.
Cold anxiety trickles into my belly, and I push the thought away. I can’t think like that.
I just need to have a doctor examine me and make sure the baby’s alright.
That’s what matters right now.
Slipping out of bed, I pull on a loose-fitting summer dress and step into some flats.
One of the house staff will know who to call. And once I’m sure everything’s alright, I’ll tell Leo.
Tonight.
Hope bubbles up inside me at the thought, a nervous, giddy excitement.
We’ve never talked about whether he wants to be a father, though I know he was prepared for the eventuality. And suddenly, I’m looking forward to seeing his reaction.
I step into the hallway, the wide corridor quiet in the midmorning lull.
The air smells faintly of espresso and polished wood. No voices, no movement, just the sound of my footsteps as I move down the hall, checking rooms for one of the maids.
There’s no sign of Leo, either, but he probably had an early meeting and chose not to wake me.
Making my way toward the breakfast room, I hope to catch one of the maids before I run into any of the Chiaroscuro brothers—or the don. I’m halfway across the foyer when I hear voices—low, tense—coming from down the hall, toward Don Augusta’s study.
I pause, my pulse kicking up a notch when I hear Leo’s voice, low and sharp, slicing through the thick wood of his father’s study door.
Something’s wrong.
I know I shouldn’t eavesdrop, but my stomach knots when I think about what happened yesterday and my part in it.
If tensions with my family have escalated because of me, I should know. I might be able to do something to fix it.
“Maybe we should give her back,” Don Augusta suggests, his voice hard and cold. “Since she’s no use to us anyway. You can get married to a good Italian wife when the time is right.”
My blood turns to ice.
Give her back. No use. A good Italian wife.
I freeze, ears ringing as I press my back to the wall outside the office. My heart hammers so loudly, I’m sure someone will hear it. I should walk away. I shouldnotbe listening. But my feet don’t move.
Then Leo laughs. It’s not the laugh I know—the low, tantalizing one that slips out of him when I catch him by surprise with something amusing.
This laugh is hollow, bitter. It echoes with a frustration I thought we’d made it past.
“Now you want to let me have my way?” Leo snaps. “Now that she’s been living in this house, sleeping in my bed for over amonth? You’re unbelievable. Here I was thinking you might someday want my opinion, but all you’re looking for is a good little soldier. Well, I’m sure you’ll be happy to hear I have noemotions, no ability to fall in love, that I’m willing to use my wife for whatever the family needs—after all, our marriage was only intended to put puppet strings on the Tanaka family. Wasn’t it? So, what should I care if we send her back?”
The floor tilts beneath me, and I stumble back.
It was all a setup. Our marriage, the passionate nights. Leo told me he loved me last night, but today, he’s more than willing to send me packing.
Was it all a lie?
