Page 82 of The Hidden Heir

“Good morning, Mrs. Petrucci,” she says, greeting us both with a warm smile. “How is our little gentleman today?”

“Eager for some waffles,” I chuckle softly.

“Then let’s make that happen,” she tells my son, who reaches for her hand.

“Is Mr. Petrucci in?” I ask Susie.

“No, he left early in the morning.”

“And Victor?”

“I haven’t seen him since yesterday, when the three of you were arguing.”

I lift an eyebrow. “You heard us?”

“The entire house heard you, and we’re all worried about the three of you. Forgive my intrusion, Mrs. Petrucci, but you shouldn’t be fighting among yourselves like that.”

“I’m honestly trying, Susie, but my husband isn’t making it any easier.”

“He’s Italian! Of course he’s not making it easier,” she says. “It’s that Mediterranean blood running through his veins.”

I stare at her with a measure of disbelief and amusement. Sometimes, I forget the staff hears more than they let on, yet they keep mostly to themselves. Discretion and trust are paramount in our world, and that applies to the people who work for them, as well.

“What do I do then?” I ask her, my shoulders slumping in defeat.

“First, I’d give Mr. Petrucci a little bit of time to sort out he what needs to sort out,” she says. “You’ve got enough to deal with.”

As soon as I’m done speaking, my stomach heaves. I race to the toilet just in time, a cold sweat breaking out all over my skin.

A few minutes later, shivering and panting, I manage to pull myself up and wash my face, then rinse my mouth with mouthwash.

When I get back to the room, Susie looks at me worriedly. “Mrs. Petrucci, are you alright? You don’t look good,” she says, her voice low.

“It’s probably just the stress.” But as I speak the words, something else pings deep in my subconscious.

She looks at me carefully and lowers her voice. “I promise I won’t tell anyone, but I keep some pregnancy tests in my room. My husband and I are trying for a baby.”

My knees feel weak. I sit on the edge of the bed, surrendering to the possibility.

“I guess I should consider taking you up on that offer,” I tell Susie. “As long as it stays between us.”

“It does, I assure you. Your well-being is just as important to me as Michael’s.”

Tears well in my eyes as I smile at her. “You’re too kind, Susie.”

“I’m just being honest. And since I’m being honest, you should know I think that you and Mr. Petrucci are stronger together than apart, especially because of what’s happening these days. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back with that test, and then I’ll take Michael downstairs for breakfast while you handle it.”

“Thank you.”

Twenty minutes later, I’m staring at the plus sign on a pregnancy test. Luca and I never even considered using any kind of contraception. All that mattered for us was the peak of pleasure, the moment of ecstasy we could find together.

How am I going to tell him? I ask myself.

Given our recent argument and my decision to find a way out of the Petrucci syndicate, I have no idea what to do with this news.

Eventually, I gather the nerve to go downstairs and join Susie and Michael for breakfast. A gorgeous feast awaits me at the table, with Michael’s favorite waffles stacked on a plate of their own and drizzled with maple syrup.

Susie gives me a curious look while I pour myself a cup of warm milk, adding a spoon of cocoa. “Are you okay, Mrs. Petrucci?”