“I’ll be back when it’s time for you to see her,” the doctor says softly and I watch her walk away to where my wife and unborn child are.
Fuck. I can’t believe how close I came to losing them both.
"Oh." Vittoria's voice cuts through the silence.
I turn to look at her and see that her hand is pressed over her mouth.
"Oh God," she gasps.
"What?"
She looks at me and then to my father, before she looks back at me. "It wasn't stress."
My stomach drops. "What wasn't stress?"
"The sickness."
I stare at her. "What sickness?"
Nobody answers immediately, and that tells me everything. Slowly, I look around the group. Valentina won't meet my eyes, Sofia is suddenly very interested in the floor, and even Elisabetta looks uncomfortable.
The rage that has been simmering under my skin starts to rise. "What sickness?" I say through clenched teeth.
Vittoria sighs. "Quinn's been sick for the last couple of weeks."
The corridor goes silent and I blink, trying to comprehend what she’s just said. "What?"
"Mostly mornings," Valentina says quietly.
I turn to her, anger and disbelief coursing through me. "You knew?" It comes out as a rumble.
Her eyes widen. "Lorenzo?—"
"You knew?" I say again.
"She asked us not to tell you."
I look at Vittoria. "You knew."
It isn't a question, but Vittoria nods. "She thought it was stress."
I laugh. The sound is sharp and humorless.
I look at my father. Surely, he didn't know. He holds my gaze, and says absolutely nothing.
Fuck.
My jaw tightens. "You all knew."
"Not like that," Vittoria says.
"Really?" I snap. "Because from where I'm standing it looks exactly like that."
"She didn't want anyone telling you. We only found out this morning."
I glare at her. "That doesn't make it okay."
Nobody argues, because nobody can.
