The second I opened the door, I heard a noise coming from the nursery, and my anger flared up. Elias had renovated that room the moment he found out I was pregnant. He'd filled it with only the best. Every piece of furniture, every stuffed animal, every blanket. He picked them all out himself. For our Paolo.
And now he wanted to give that to Serena?
Fury surged through me. I stormed down the hallway and swung the door open, only to find Serena lying in the crib.
I yanked her up without thinking, rage burning in my chest. But before I could get a word out, Elias grabbed my wrist and pulled me away from her.
"What is wrong with you? You act like a lunatic the second you walk in," he snapped. But when he saw the tears in my eyes, he hesitated, his grip loosening just a little.
"Are you really giving her this room?" I asked, my voice raw and broken.
Elias frowned. "Serena said she likes it. It's not a big deal if she stays here for a while."
"Do you remember…"
"Enough, Bianca." He cut me off, the irritation in his voice carrying that particular quiet command he used when he expected the conversation to die. "Everything you've done these past few days has been disappointing. If you keep acting like this, I'll have to reconsider whether this marriage should even continue." He paused, eyes cold. "You don't want the Paolo inside you to be born without a father, do you?"
He was threatening me. Not with lawyers, not with paperwork. In this life, a dissolved marriage meant losing the protection of the Falcone name entirely. It meant being sent back to my father's house like damaged goods, the alliance between our families shattered, my child marked before he even drew his first breath.
Looking at his face, the side he always turned away when he was done with an argument, I felt the memories unravel. The promises, the whispered sweet nothings, all turning to ash in a matter of months.
He once said this room would always belong to our Paolo. He said he would treasure both of us for the rest of his life.
And yet here we were.
I didn't say anything else. I turned around and walked out, numb. My hand instinctively cradled my belly, feeling the faint flutter of life inside me.
"Don't worry, Paolo. We don't need that room. I'll make you a better one."
Behind me, Elias stood frozen, watching me walk away. That same flicker of guilt from the clinic flashed across his face again, sharp and quick, then buried.
But as Serena called out to him from the nursery, he turned and walked back to her.
Later, when I was back in the master bedroom, my phone buzzed. I got a string of voice messages from Serena.
I opened them one by one, and hearing Elias's doting tone in the recordings, I realized all their past affection was just practice for him.
He was practicing on me and our Paolo, all for the sake of Serena's child.
Every nourishing soup I drank, every gift I received for the Paolo, every parenting tip Elias shared with me. It was all just practice for Serena's Paolo.
Even the nursery itself was prepared by Elias for the child in Serena's womb.
I and the Paolo were just tools for Elias's rehearsal. He didn't want Serena to suffer through his learning curve, so I became the sacrifice.
I listened to the messages over and over, the pain swelling inside me until I laughed. Not because it was funny, because it hurt so much it pushed me over the edge. Everything I had been so proud of since the moment I got pregnant had been nothing but a lie.
Elias's tenderness toward my child? It didn't even come close to what he showed Serena and hers.
I clenched my phone so tightly my hand shook. My thumb found the edge of the saint medal at my throat, pressing hard enough to leave an imprint. It hurt to breathe. All I could do was whisper over and over to myself that it was okay.
It was okay. Because soon, we'd be free of him.
Just me and the Paolo. And we'd be just fine.
The Paolo kicked, like he could hear me. Like he understood.
I wrapped my arms around my belly and held it close.
The compound was quiet around me. No soldiers moving in the hall. No voices from the nursery anymore. Just the silence of a house that had already chosen its side.
I stayed that way for a long time, until I could finally breathe again.
