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Ahead of me, parked right where I can see the car, is Leo. I couldn’t tell him why I had to leave the house so quickly, but I needed someone to take me—so I lied about having food poisoning.
Even then, I knew it was something else.
Turning in the other direction, I wonder how far I’d get if I decide to make a run for it. Something tells me it wouldn’t be very far.
“Isabella?” Leo steps out of the car, waving at me. “Are you ready to go?”
No.I can feel bile at the back of my throat, and my head is spinning. I’m pretty sure if I take another step, I might faint from the shock.
“Isabella?” Leo repeats, this time with worry in his voice. Shutting the door, he makes his way toward me. I shove the envelope into my bag, pressing my fingers to my face and schooling my emotions before he reaches where I stand.
He tilts his head, observing for a moment. “You look pale,” he says softly. “Did you get to see a doctor? What did she say?”
“I—” My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. “I need to go home,” I mutter.
“Okay.” He nods. “Okay. Let’s go.”
My mind barely registers my steps, and the trip home passes like a blur. I hear Leo asking a question as I walk in, but I don’t answer. I can’t.I need to lie down. I need to lie down before my head explodes.
The walk to my room is the longest I’ve ever taken, and when I get there, my knees are an inch away from giving out. I crawl into bed, pulling the blanket over my head and closing my eyes, too tired to deal with anything else.
A soft knock on the door pulls me from my sleep, but I’m reluctant to respond, so I curl even tighter, placing a hand over my head.
“Bella?”
My eyes fly open. It’s Roman, and for some reason, he’s calling meBella.
“Isabella?” he says, knocking again. “Can I come in? Leo said you had to go to the hospital for food poisoning.”
My fingers instinctively drift to my stomach, brushing over the place that feels like a fragile secret now.Not food poisoning.Something far worse.Marriage was already binding, but this…a baby? It ties me to Roman forever.
I’m not ready to face that reality yet.
“Isabella?” His voice grows more insistent, threaded with worry this time. There’s a tense pause, and then: “I’m coming in.”
Something about how he says it—low, steady, maybe even a little threatening—snaps me into motion.
My heart lurches, and I shoot upright, nearly tripping over the covers as I leap from the bed and sprint toward the door. I reach for the lock, only to remember that the door,tragically,doesn’t have one.
I never got around to fixing it.
“Shit,” I hiss under my breath, slamming my shoulder against the wood just as the doorknob begins to turn.
“I’m fine!” I say quickly, trying to sound calm, controlled, anything but what I actually am, which is terrified, disoriented, and fraying at the edges. “It was nothing.”
For a moment, there’s silence on the other side. A long, breathless beat where I almost convince myself he’s walked away.
Then the knob jiggles again, slower this time, like he’s testing my resistance. Or my resolve, I’m not sure which.
“I said I’m fine!” I snap, both hands pressed against the door, my entire weight anchoring it shut like that might somehow keep the truth from slipping through the cracks.
There’s another pause, quieter this time, and his voice returns, softer but steadier. “You don’t sound fine, Isabella.”
“I’m fine,” I repeat as my eyes tear up. “Leave me alone, Roman.” My words sound like defeat, and my shoulders sag. “Please.” I can tell he’s still there. “You’ve never cared about what I did. You took me from the cathedral. You forced me to marry you. You left without a word. I don’t think now’s the time to start caring.”
My words are harsh, but they’re the truth. To Roman, the baby is a conquest—another middle finger to my father.
To me, it’s more.