That pressure in my chest didn't ease.
But I told myself this was the right call.
Bianca understood protocol. Understood boundaries.
She'd keep the kid at the manor.
She'd help Olivia adjust.
She'd make everything simpler.
That's what I told myself.
Dinner that night, I announced Bianca's arrival.
Several family members sat around the long table, plus two elder representatives. Olivia was at the far end, her plate barely touched.
"Miss Colonna will be staying temporarily," I said. "She'll manage the nursery affairs."
Low murmurs around the table. Some nods. Exchanged glances.
Olivia's fork stopped at the plate's edge.
She looked up at me.
That gaze was light, light as falling ash. No questions, no anger—just watching me, waiting for the rest.
I said nothing else.
Bianca sat to my right, raising her wine glass with a graceful smile at the room. "I appreciate your help. I'll take good care of the child."
Someone raised their glass in response.
Olivia lowered her head back to the untouched plate.
I looked away.
Next morning, coming downstairs, Elsa met me.
"Sir."
Her voice was quieter than usual, expression hesitant.
"What is it?"
"It's about the young miss," she said. "Last night... she cried all night."
I frowned.
"The nurses took turns trying to soothe her, but nothing worked. Started around ten, didn't stop until three or four in the morning." She paused. "Miss Colonna didn't wake you. Said you needed rest. She... stayed in the nursery the whole time."
"The whole night?"
"Yes, sir. The nurses said she had everyone else go rest, then held the baby herself, pacing the room, singing softly. Finally fell asleep around six."
I frowned.
"Where is she now?"
