Page 5 of Banished and Pregnant by Her Sicilian Billionaire Husband

That’s not bad, is it?

To want to hear the words?

Ti amo.

In fact, I’m even planning to say it in Italian the first time. I’m hoping that will make the words more special, more—

Oh?

Someone’s knocking on my door, and that can’t possibly be my husband. Not only is this the room we share, but he also likes to slip in unnoticed so he can catch me by surprise when he suddenly wraps his arms around me from behind, and the next thing I know we’re kissing and...

Knock! Knock!

I can’t believe I lost my train of thought again, and for the same shameful reason, too, argh!

Heavy rain lashes nonstop against our bedroom windows as I hurry to the door. I’m not sure who to expect when I open it, but it’s certainly not a white-faced Maria, with her eyes red and swollen.

“What’s wrong?” I ask worriedly. “Has something happened—”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Bastianelli.” Why can’t she suddenly meet my gaze as she says this in a shaking voice? “You’re to get dressed quickly, signora, and I was asked to help you to avoid delays.”

“D-dressed? For what?”

“I’m so sorry, signora, but we are to hurry, per favore.”

I work hard to stay calm because panic isn’t ever good for my baby. “Is it his mother? Is somebody hurt?”

But Maria only shakes her head and keeps urging me to hurry. “Please, signora.”

I’m aghast when she looks like she’s about to cry, and so I say quickly, “I’ll change now.” I have no idea what’s going on, but one thing I know for sure: Marcello trusts Maria, and so of course, I trust her, too.

I grab the first thing that will have me looking halfway decent at least. A floral dress that’s loose for now, but in a month or two, I’m pretty sure it will no longer fit. And then I’m hurrying out of the en-suite, but before I can call for Maria and tell her I’m done—

That’s when I see it.

Two suitcases by the open door, and after that...

It’s not that everything happened fast.

Because it didn’t.

Everything was mindful of my pregnancy, and so they made allowances for me.

It’s just that everything was so organized, and I think that’s what hurt me the most.

That the whole household was working like a well-oiled machine as they got rid of me, their master’s wife.

And while my heart knows that this is something they’ve been ordered to do, and that I shouldn’t ever take it personally against any of them...

It doesn’t make me hurt less.

The way no one wants to answer when I ask them where’s Marcello and if he knows this is happening.

The way everyone keeps avoiding my gaze even as the other maids carry my suitcases down the stairs.

I think...

I think that’s the answer already, right?