Chapter 3
Dr. Bell was already waiting when the car stopped in front of Luca’s house.
House was the wrong word.
It was a stone mansion behind iron gates, hidden behind tall walls and old trees that looked like they had been guarding secrets for generations.
I barely saw any of it.
The pain in my stomach had turned my vision narrow.
Luca carried me inside.
Warmth rushed over me.
Marble floors.
Dark wood.
Low voices.
Men stepping out of the way.
No one stared for too long.
No one asked questions.
That frightened me almost as much as Bianca had.
Luca moved through the house like he belonged to every inch of it.
“Upstairs,” Dr. Bell said. “Now.”
She was small, silver-haired, and sharp-eyed.
Not afraid of Luca.
That surprised me.
She opened a door to a bedroom larger than the entire maid’s quarters at the Thorne mansion.
“Put her down carefully.”
He did.
The moment my back touched the bed, I tried to sit up.
“My uniform. I’m getting mud everywhere.”
Dr. Bell looked at me like I had said something heartbreaking.
“Let the sheets worry about themselves.”
Luca stood by the door, fists clenched.
Dr. Bell turned to him.
“Out.”
He did not move.
“She’s carrying my child.”
“And I am carrying a medical degree. Out.”
For one wild second, I thought he might argue.
He looked at me.
I did not know what my face showed.
Fear, probably.
Shame.
Pain.
He softened.
“I’ll be right outside.”
Then he left.
The door closed.
I exhaled.
Dr. Bell checked my blood pressure, my pulse, my abdomen.
She asked questions in a calm voice.
How far along?
Eight weeks, maybe nine.
Bleeding?
No.
Sharp pain?
Less now.
Dizziness?
Yes.
Had I eaten?
I looked away.
“Mara.”
“Yesterday.”
Her jaw tightened.
“Yesterday when?”
“Morning.”
She muttered something under her breath that sounded like a curse.
Then she helped me change out of the muddy uniform into a soft robe.
My cheek throbbed.
My lip had stopped bleeding but felt swollen.
My hand was bruised where Bianca’s heel had pressed down.
Dr. Bell cleaned it first.
“You protected your stomach when she hit you?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
The word nearly broke me.
Good.
Not foolish.
Not dramatic.
Not ungrateful.
Good.
She used a small portable machine to listen.
I held my breath.
The room seemed to disappear.
Then I heard it.
Fast.
Tiny.
Steady.
A heartbeat.
My baby’s heartbeat.
I covered my mouth.
A sound came out of me that was half laugh, half sob.
Dr. Bell’s face softened.
“There it is.”
My eyes filled.
I turned my head away, but tears slipped anyway.
The door opened a crack.
Luca stood there.
He must have heard.
Dr. Bell did not scold him this time.
She turned the volume a little higher.
The heartbeat filled the room.
Luca looked like someone had struck him.
His face lost all its hardness.
He stepped inside slowly.
“Is the baby safe?” he asked.
“For now, yes,” Dr. Bell said. “But Mara is exhausted, underfed, bruised, and badly stressed. She needs rest. Real food. No more violence. No more servant work. No threats. No being dragged back to whatever nightmare she came from.”
Luca’s gaze stayed on me.
“That won’t happen.”
I wanted to believe him.
I was afraid to.
Dr. Bell packed her things.
“I’ll return tonight. If pain worsens, call me immediately.”
When she left, silence filled the room.
Luca stood near the bed.
Not too close.
The distance felt deliberate.
“Mara,” he said. “I need to ask you something.”
My muscles tensed.
“Did Preston Thorne hurt you?”
I looked at the blanket.
The answer was complicated.
Preston had not slapped me like Bianca.
He had done worse in quieter ways.
He had made me think love could be earned by obedience.
He had kissed me in dark hallways while telling the world I was only staff.
He had promised to leave Bianca, then married her in front of three hundred guests while I served champagne.
After that, he treated my humiliation like a secret we shared.
“He used me,” I said. “Then he let his wife punish me for being useful to him.”
Luca’s jaw moved.
“Did he know about the pregnancy?”
“No.”
“Did you plan to tell me?”
I swallowed.
“I didn’t know how to find you.”
“You had my first name.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Luca in Chicago? That narrows it down to half the city.”
His mouth twitched, but it vanished fast.
“I should have told you.”
“Yes,” I said.
The honesty surprised us both.
I looked at him.
“You should have. Because now I’m sitting in your house with your doctor and your guards outside the door, and I don’t know if I’ve been rescued or moved into a richer cage.”
Pain crossed his face.
“I deserve that.”
I expected anger.
Men did not like being accused.
Preston would have called me dramatic.
Luca just nodded once.
“I won’t lock you here. I won’t command you. I won’t make decisions about your body or our child without you. But I will protect you from the Thornes.”
“Why?”
The word came out sharp.
“Because it’s your child?”
“Because it’s you.”
I looked away first.
That answer was too dangerous.
A knock came.
Matteo entered carrying a tray.
Soup.
Bread.
Tea.
My stomach clenched with hunger.
He set it down without meeting my eyes too long.
“Your bracelet,” he said.
He placed it on the table.
The clasp had been repaired.
Already.
I touched it like it might vanish.
“Thank you.”
Matteo nodded and left.
Luca watched me.
“Eat.”
I raised an eyebrow.
He corrected himself immediately.
“Please.”
That almost made me smile.
Almost.
I took the spoon.
My hand shook.
Luca noticed but pretended not to.
For a few minutes, the room was quiet except for the rain and the spoon against porcelain.
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
His face changed.
“What?” I asked.
“It’s Senator Thorne.”
My blood chilled.
He answered and put it on speaker without asking.
A man’s voice filled the room.
Smooth.
Political.
Dangerous in a different way.
“Luca, I hear there was an unpleasant scene this morning. My daughter is upset.”
Luca looked at me.
Then he said, “Your daughter assaulted a pregnant woman at her mother’s grave.”
A pause.
“She is staff,” the senator said coldly. “Handle this privately.”
My spoon froze.
Luca’s eyes went dark.
“You called to ask me to hide a crime.”
“I called to remind you that families like ours survive by not embarrassing each other.”
Luca stood very still.
Then he said, “You and I are not family.”
The senator’s voice hardened.
“Careful, Mr. Moretti.”
Luca ended the call.
I stared at him.
May you like
“You just made it worse.”
“No,” he said. “He did.”
