Chapter 2 - Dante.
I rejected the call.
It rang again.
Then again.
I switched it off.
At 4:17 in the morning, I left the penthouse.
I didn’t leave a letter.
Dante had ignored my words when I was standing beside him.
I wasn’t going to waste more after I was gone.
I drove until Chicago disappeared behind me.
Then I checked into a small hotel under my maiden name.
I slept for two hours.
When I woke, I ran to the bathroom and vomited.
At first, I blamed the stress.
Then I sat on the cold tile floor and counted backward.
My period was late.
Very late.
My heart began pounding.
“No.”
The word came out as a whisper.
I drove to the nearest pharmacy wearing sunglasses and yesterday’s clothes.
I bought three pregnancy tests.
Back in my room, I took all three.
The results appeared one after another.
Positive.
Positive.
Positive.
I sat on the edge of the bathtub holding the last test while the world tilted around me.
Dante had betrayed me.
My marriage was over.
And I was carrying his child.
For one terrible moment, I wanted to call him.
My thumb hovered over his name.
Then I remembered Sofia’s hands on his chest.
I remembered his mouth on hers.
I remembered three months of being told nothing was wrong.
I lowered the phone.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I whispered, pressing my hand against my stomach.
There was no answer.
Two weeks later, there was.
I sat inside a quiet doctor’s office while a monitor glowed beside me.
The technician found the heartbeat first.
Fast.
Tiny.
Impossible.
My eyes filled with tears before I could stop them.
“That’s my baby?”
The doctor smiled.
“That’s your baby.”
Something opened inside me.
Love.
Pure and immediate.
It frightened me more than anything Dante had ever brought into my life.
Then the doctor’s smile faded.
She adjusted the monitor.
I noticed the change instantly.
“What?”
She didn’t answer.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong.”
Her eyes moved back to the screen.
“But there is something else.”
My fingers tightened around the edge of the examination table.
She shifted the image.
Then I heard it.
Another rapid rhythm.
Beside the first.
My breath stopped.
The doctor looked at me.
“Lena,” she said gently, “you’re carrying twins.”
And in that moment, the secret I had taken away from Dante Moretti doubled.
I laughed.
I couldn’t help it.
It wasn’t because anything was funny.
The sound simply burst out of me somewhere between shock and panic.
“Twins?”
The doctor smiled again.
“Twins.”
I stared at the monitor.
Two tiny lives.
Two heartbeats.
Two children who had no idea their father was one of the most feared men in Chicago.
Two children who had no idea their mother had spent the last two weeks pretending she knew how to rebuild her life.
My hand trembled when I touched my stomach.
The doctor must have mistaken my silence for fear about the pregnancy itself.
“Everything looks good for this stage.”
I nodded.
“Good.”
“Do you have support?”
That question nearly broke me.
“Yes.”
It was partly true.
My mother knew I had left Dante.
She didn’t know why.
She definitely didn’t know about the pregnancy.
I had avoided her house because I knew Dante would look there first.
The flowers he sent had already filled her front hallway.
White roses.
Then peonies.
Then lilies.
Every arrangement came with a card.
Call me.
Please talk to me.
I’m sorry.
We need to speak.
The last card had only three words.
I miss you.
I had thrown it away.
Then, at two in the morning, I dug it out of the trash.
I hated myself for that more than I hated him.
The doctor handed me printed images.
I slipped them into my purse carefully.
When I returned to my hotel, Dante was standing outside my door.
My entire body stopped.
He wore a black coat over a dark suit, but his tie was missing.
His hair looked like he had run his hands through it repeatedly.
There were shadows beneath his eyes.
Dante Moretti looked exhausted.
It was the most human I had seen him in months.
He straightened.
“Lena.”
I almost reached for my stomach.
I stopped myself.
“How did you find me?”
His mouth tightened.
“You know how.”
Of course I did.
Dante could find almost anyone.
I should have been surprised he had given me two weeks.
Instead, I was angry.
“You had me followed?”
“No.”
“I’m supposed to believe that?”
“I checked hotels.”
“How many?”
“Enough.”
I stared at him.
He stared back.
Then his gaze dropped toward my purse.
The ultrasound photographs were inside.
My heartbeat became so loud I was certain he could hear it.
Dante stepped closer.
“I need five minutes.”
“You had five years.”
His face tightened.
“I deserved that.”
“Yes.”
“Give me five minutes anyway.”
“No.”
I reached for the door.
His hand closed around my wrist.
Not painfully.
Just instinctively.
I looked down.
He released me immediately.
“I’m sorry.”
I unlocked the door.
“Go home, Dante.”
“I haven’t been home.”
I paused.
He continued before I could stop him.
“I went back once.”
His voice sounded different.
Lower.
Rougher.
“Your clothes were gone.”
I said nothing.
“The books beside the bed were gone.”
Still nothing.
“Your coffee cup was in the dishwasher.”
His jaw tightened.
“You hate putting that cup in the dishwasher.”
Despite everything, my throat burned.
It was ridiculous.
Of all the things he could remember.
That cup.
“I slept in my office.”
“That’s not my problem.”
“No.”
He nodded.
“It isn’t.”
The lack of argument disarmed me.
I opened the door.
He didn’t move.
“Five minutes,” he said.
I should have refused.
Instead, I stepped aside.
Dante entered the hotel room and looked around.
It was small.
One bed.
One chair.
A kitchenette barely large enough for one person.
His gaze moved over the suitcase near the wall.
The grocery bag on the counter.
The cheap lamp.
Something in his expression hardened.
Not disgust.
Pain.
“You’re staying here?”
“I am.”
“You could have taken the apartment on Oak Street.”
“I don’t want your apartment.”
“It’s yours.”
“No.”
“Anything I own—”
“I don’t want anything you own.”
His mouth closed.
That hurt him.
Good.
Maybe I was angrier than I thought.
I placed my purse on the chair, careful to keep it closed.
Dante stayed near the door.
For once, he seemed unsure what he was allowed to do.
I crossed my arms.
“Four minutes.”
He breathed out.
“Sofia resigned.”
I felt nothing.
At least, I told myself I felt nothing.
“I didn’t ask.”
“I ended all professional contact with her.”
“Congratulations.”
“She kissed me that night.”
I laughed once.
“We already covered this.”
“I need you to understand.”
“No, Dante.”
My voice sharpened.
“You need me to forgive you.”
His eyes locked on mine.
“That’s different.”
He said nothing.
I stepped closer.
“You keep talking about who kissed whom as if the technical details change anything.”
I pointed toward him.
“You let her get close enough to believe she could.”
His expression flickered.
“You let me sit at home wondering whether I was imagining it.”
“I know.”
“You defended the situation instead of defending our marriage.”
“I know.”
“I asked you directly.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying that.”
His jaw clenched.
“What do you want me to say?”
“The truth.”
He looked at me for several seconds.
Then Dante Moretti did something I had almost forgotten he knew how to do.
He stopped controlling the conversation.
“I liked the attention.”
The words landed harder than I expected.
I turned away.
He continued.
“I was angry all the time.”
“That’s not an excuse.”
“I know.”
I shot him a look.
He stopped himself from repeating it.
“I was dealing with problems I didn’t bring home because I thought keeping them away from you was protecting you.”
His voice became quieter.
“I started staying at work later.”
“Sofia was there.”
“Yes.”
“She listened.”
“Yes.”
I swallowed.
“And I didn’t?”
His face changed immediately.
“That isn’t what happened.”
“It sounds like it.”
“You were the person I should have been talking to.”
“Then why weren’t you?”
Dante looked away.
That alone told me the answer mattered.
“Because with you, I had something to lose.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
“With Sofia, nothing mattered.”
“That might be the cruelest thing you’ve said.”
His eyes returned to mine.
“I don’t mean she mattered more.”
“I understand what you mean.”
I pressed my lips together.
“You could be careless with her because you didn’t care.”
“Yes.”
“And you couldn’t be honest with me because you did.”
May you like
“Yes.”
I shook my head.
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