Chapter 5 - TWO PREGNANCIES AND ONE LIE
Dante did not go to the hospital.
That surprised everyone.
Especially Amara.
He stood in the parking garage with blood drying across his knuckles and stared at Caleb as though the words had been spoken in another language.
“She says she’s pregnant?”
“Yes.”
“How far?”
“Approximately ten weeks.”
Dante closed his eyes.
Amara looked away.
Ten weeks.
While he had been touching Amara’s pregnant stomach.
While he had assembled a crib with his own hands.
While he had kissed her every morning and told their unborn daughter goodnight.
Ten weeks.
Amara suddenly needed distance.
She walked toward the SUV.
Dante followed.
“Amara.”
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t know.”
“That is not helping.”
“Nothing happened without protection.”
She stopped.
Slowly, she turned around.
Dante’s face changed.
Amara laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
“You want credit?”
“No.”
“That’s what it sounded like.”
“I’m trying to understand.”
“Well, understand somewhere else.”
She got into the vehicle.
Dante placed one hand against the door before Caleb could close it.
“Please.”
Amara stared at him.
The word sounded wrong coming from Dante.
“What?”
“Let me know where you’re going.”
“No.”
“For security.”
“Caleb knows.”
“I want to know.”
“That’s exactly why I won’t tell you.”
He looked wounded.
Amara hated that she noticed.
“I’m not trying to control you.”
“You don’t know another way to love people.”
Dante went silent.
Amara closed the door herself.
The SUV drove away.
She did not look back.
Selena’s pregnancy became public four hours later.
Of course it did.
MISTRESS CLAIMS SHE’S CARRYING MORETTI BABY
The story exploded.
By evening, every local gossip page had side-by-side photographs of Amara and Selena.
WIFE VS. MISTRESS.
TWO MORETTI HEIRS?
WHO WILL DANTE CHOOSE?
Amara threw her phone onto the couch.
Rachel picked it up.
“Don’t read comments.”
“I’m not.”
“You absolutely are.”
“I’m reading headlines.”
“That is comments with better punctuation.”
Amara almost smiled.
Then her stomach tightened.
She froze.
Rachel noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Another tightening.
Stronger.
“Amara.”
“I’m fine.”
Rachel was already calling Caleb.
Twenty minutes later, Amara was in a private examination room while Dr. Patel checked the baby.
“Stress can trigger contractions,” the doctor said.
“Am I in labor?”
“No.”
Amara exhaled.
“But I want you resting.”
“Bed rest?”
“Not necessarily. Reduced activity. Reduced stress.”
Amara laughed weakly.
“Can you prescribe a different husband?”
Dr. Patel smiled despite herself.
“Unfortunately, that’s outside my specialty.”
A knock came.
Caleb entered.
“Dante’s here.”
Amara’s heart sank.
“How?”
“He has people.”
“I told him not to follow me.”
“He didn’t. Hospital staff recognized your name.”
“Send him away.”
Caleb hesitated.
“He’s refusing.”
“Then have security remove him.”
“I suspect hospital security will find that aspirational.”
Dr. Patel folded her arms.
“This is my floor.”
Caleb smiled.
“I like you.”
Dr. Patel walked out.
Ten minutes later, Dante appeared in the doorway.
Without guards.
Without a jacket.
He looked terrible.
Amara had never seen him look terrible.
His hair was wet from rain. His shirt was wrinkled. His hands were clean now, but the skin across his knuckles was split.
He looked at the monitor.
Then at Amara.
“Is she okay?”
“Yes.”
His shoulders lowered.
“What happened?”
“Stress.”
Guilt crossed his face.
Amara looked away.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“I know.”
“Then leave.”
“I will.”
But he didn’t.
Not yet.
His gaze moved to the ultrasound image on the screen.
Their daughter’s profile.
Dante’s eyes softened.
“When did she get that big?”
Amara hated him for asking.
Hated herself for wanting to answer.
“Babies grow.”
A ghost of a smile touched his mouth.
She remembered midnight pasta.
Hospital floors.
Eight years.
Then Selena.
The smile disappeared.
“I took a paternity test.”
Amara blinked.
“What?”
“With Selena.”
“So quickly?”
“She agreed.”
“Why?”
Dante’s expression turned cold.
“Because when I arrived at the house after speaking to my father, she was gone. She left her phone.”
Amara stared.
“And?”
“It contained messages.”
“With Isabella?”
“With Elias Grant.”
Amara’s pulse quickened.
“What did they say?”
“Enough.”
Dante looked toward the door.
“She knew about the attacks. She knew someone was tracking you.”
Amara’s blood ran cold.
“And she didn’t warn us.”
“No.”
“She helped them?”
“I don’t know how far it goes yet.”
Amara laughed in disbelief.
“You still don’t know?”
His face hardened.
“I’m not protecting her.”
“But you still say you don’t know.”
“Because facts matter.”
“So did our marriage.”
Pain flashed in his eyes.
“I know.”
A nurse entered carrying a sealed envelope.
“Mr. Moretti?”
Dante turned.
“This was couriered to the floor for you.”
His security checked it before handing it over.
Dante opened the envelope.
Inside was a single sheet.
Amara watched his eyes move down the page.
Then stop.
“What?”
Dante said nothing.
“Dante.”
He looked up.
“The pregnancy test from the clinic.”
“And?”
His jaw tightened.
“She is pregnant.”
Amara looked away.
Dante continued.
“But the paternity result can’t be completed this early through the test I requested.”
“Then why did she agree?”
“I think she wanted me to believe certainty was coming.”
Amara frowned.
“For what purpose?”
Dante’s phone rang.
He answered.
“Speak.”
His expression changed.
“Where?”
A pause.
“Do not touch anything.”
He hung up.
“What happened?”
“Selena’s townhouse.”
“What about it?”
“My people searched it.”
Amara’s heart began beating harder.
“They found a safe.”
“And?”
“Photographs.”
Dante looked sick.
“Of you.”
Amara’s body went cold.
“What kind of photographs?”
“Your appointments. Charity events. The grocery store. Your mother’s cemetery.”
Amara stared.
“Years?”
“Some are dated eighteen months ago.”
That changed everything.
Selena had not simply been sleeping with Dante.
She had been studying Amara.
“Why?”
“I’m going to find out.”
“No.”
Dante looked at her.
“I’m going to find out.”
Amara pushed herself upright.
“You keep saying you’re going to handle things. You handled our marriage into the ground.”
“Amara.”
“I want copies.”
“No.”
“Then my attorneys will subpoena them.”
“This is dangerous information.”
“It’s information about me.”
He looked at her for a long moment.
Then nodded.
“You’ll get copies.”
The concession shocked her.
“Thank you.”
Dante looked almost surprised by the gratitude.
Then he placed something on the table beside her bed.
Her wedding ring.
Amara stared.
“I left that at the house.”
“I know.”
“Why did you bring it?”
“I thought…”
He stopped.
For once, Dante Moretti had no polished answer.
“I don’t know what I thought.”
Amara looked at the ring.
“I’m not putting it back on.”
“I know.”
“Then take it.”
He did not move.
“Dante.”
He picked it up.
Closed his hand around it.
Then whispered, “I thought I had time.”
Amara’s chest hurt.
“For what?”
“To fix myself before you realized how badly I was failing you.”
She stared at him.
“That makes no sense.”
“I know.”
“Then why Selena?”
Dante’s eyes lowered.
“When you lost the baby two years ago, you stopped talking to me.”
Amara’s mouth fell open.
“I was grieving.”
“I know.”
“Now.”
“Yes.”
“You cheated because I was grieving?”
“No.”
His voice broke around the word.
“I cheated because I was a coward.”
Silence filled the room.
“I didn’t know how to sit beside pain I couldn’t solve. Selena asked nothing from me. No grief. No responsibility. No history.”
He swallowed.
“I mistook escape for peace.”
Amara’s eyes filled.
Dante continued.
“And then I kept making the same selfish choice because admitting what I had done would have required me to become someone I wasn’t willing to be.”
A tear slipped down Amara’s cheek.
She wiped it away angrily.
“You should’ve left me.”
“Yes.”
“You should’ve told me.”
“Yes.”
“You should’ve given me a choice.”
“Yes.”
Her voice cracked.
“You stole years from me.”
Dante closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
The lack of defense hurt more than an argument.
A nurse entered before either could speak again.
“Mrs. Moretti, there’s another delivery.”
Amara frowned.
“I’m not expecting anything.”
It was a small white box.
Security opened it.
Inside was a baby rattle.
Silver.
Antique.
Amara touched it.
Dante went pale.
“What?”
She looked up.
He reached for the rattle.
Engraved along the handle were two initials.
D.M.
“Yours?”
Dante nodded.
“My mother gave me this.”
“Where has it been?”
“In the family vault.”
Amara’s blood chilled.
A folded note sat beneath it.
Dante opened it.
His face changed completely.
“What does it say?”
He handed the note to her.
Five words.
One daughter for one husband.
Amara stared.
May you like
Then below it, in smaller handwriting:
Ask Vittorio what he did in 1998.
