I fought with my mom. And for the first time in my life, I doubted that modeling is what I wanted to do. Everything changed so quickly for me.
But I didn’t have nausea and sickness, dizzy spells.
Elena and Bianca sit in silence while I come to terms with something I’ve been denying all week.
My stomach rolls again, a sick, sour churn that feels like a warning bell.
I close my eyes for a second, and when I open them, Elena is watching me with sympathy, like she knows what I’m going through. Of course she knows what I’m going through. I’m not the first woman in this room to experience this exact situation. Hell, I’m not even the second.
“What if I am?” I whisper before I can stop myself. “What if I’m pregnant?”
The word hangs there, absurd and terrifying.
My hand goes to my abdomen on instinct, like I can feel something there already. Like my body knows something my brain is refusing to accept.
My breath comes faster.
“With Bellandi,” I say, voice rising, “and all of this—my life might be in danger. And if there’s a baby—”
Bianca’s voice cuts in, steady in contrast to the terror and chaos inside me. “Breathe.”
I drag in air, shaky and uneven.
“What would Antonio think?” I ask, and that’s the part that turns my chest inside out. “Would he be happy? Would he be furious? Would he—” My throat tightens.
Elena’s eyes flash. “He would never.”
I want to believe that. I do. But fear doesn’t care what I want.
Bianca sits next to me and places her hand on my forearm. “Elsa,” she says, very gently, “if there’s even a chance…”
Elena nods, picking up the thought. “You have to tell Antonio before they make their next move.”
My stomach drops.
“What next move,” I whisper, even though I already know there’s always a next move with men like them.
Bianca’s gaze is unwavering. “Whatever plan they’re making at Vito’s right now. Whatever decisions are happening. They need the whole picture.”
Elena’s voice is soft but absolute. “They need to know for sure. And you do too.”
I stare at them, my mind racing in circles, terror and logic colliding.
Because if I’m pregnant, there’s far more at stake than just my life.
It’s a while yet before Antonio comes back, which I’m grateful for. It gave me a chance to pull myself together.
But still, when the apartment door opens, my head jerks up so fast my neck protests.
Antonio steps in first.
Relief hits me instantly, sharp and physical, but it’s tangled up now—tangled up with the conversation I had with Bianca and Elena, with the word ‘pregnant’ still echoing around inside my skull like it was shouted into a cathedral.
He’s home.
And behind him come two other men. They must be Giovanni and Luca. I already met Roberto, but he’s not with them.
For a second, my brain stalls on the sight of them in Antonio’s doorway, both of them bigger somehow in his space than they were in my imagination—more solid, more real, more dangerous, and more ordinaryall at once.
