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ADELINA

M y hormones are driving me crazy. Google tells me it’s normal to feel all over the place in the first trimester, but that doesn’t make it any easier. One minute, I’m so horny for Raffaele that it physically pains me when he pulls himself away to tend to work. He left this morning telling me he had something extremely important to tend to, and I felt like a child being denied a treat while everyone else ate theirs in front of me.

The next minute, I’m overwhelmingly sad about Marie and my mother and all the children at the hospital who have no idea that I’m now paying their medical bills and getting them access to treatment they could never have dreamed of. I don’t need thanks—the grateful, crying parents are more than enough—but the sadness grows when my mind runs with the fear that not all of these children are in a place to benefit from better treatment. Some suffer from illnesses as mysterious as my own mother.

And then there’s the anger. Poor Caterina bears the brunt of my hot flushes and rapid fluctuation of temper, and it’s not her fault. She’s just the only one who is near me enough to actually get anger directed at her. She bore the brunt of it this morning when my horniness and a lack of a husband irritated me to the point that I stripped all of my clothes out of my dressers and wardrobes and then grew infuriated at how nothing felt right when I put them back in a different order.

I need to talk to someone, and the only one who knows about my pregnancy is my father.

So I leave a message for Raffaele, call my father, and persuade him to have dinner with me. He’s a little resistant at first but in the end, I don’t take no for an answer.

Evening arrives and the mouthwatering smells of spiced chicken, boatloads of pasta and crisp, fresh veggies almost overwhelm my sensitive senses as I’m seated at the table with my father across from me. He unfurls his napkin and then clears his throat so sharply that Caterina, who was in the process of sitting next to me, freezes.

“Caterina, would you mind leaving us?”

Her eyes narrow slightly. “Adelina is not to leave my sight.”

“While admirable, I would very much like to have dinner alone with my daughter.”

“Papà, it won’t be an issue. Her presence makes me feel safe and keeps Raffaele happy.”

My father’s eyes also narrow. “Addie, my dear. We have delicate things to discuss.”

Oh .

He’s right.

I haven’t told Caterina about the pregnancy, and I can’t discuss it while she’s here. Clearing my throat, I smile brightly at her. “I’ll be fine, Caterina. I just need some time with my father, actually. It’s been too long since it was just the two of us.”

Caterina looks doubtful for a moment, then she nods and excuses herself from the dining room.

“Is she always hovering?” he asks with a sigh, immediately loading up his fork with a mountain of pasta.

“She’s just doing her job,” I reply. “She’s my friend as well as my guard, so we get on well.”

“Indeed. So tell me, how is that husband of yours?”

In the past, such a word from my father had disgusted me, but my rapidly growing feelings for Raffaele make me smile uncontrollably.

Husband .

“He’s good. He’s been pretty busy with some construction at the manor. There was some kind of accident while we were in Italy, so that’s taking up a lot of his time. But he’s been letting me have pretty free rein of everything. Actually, you know the hospital that I spend so much time at? The one that took such good care of Mother? With the children teaching art classes and painting for the walls?”

My father nods.

“Well, I’ve become a board member!”

My father chokes suddenly, and I half rise out of my chair in alarm. “Papà!”

“I’m okay!” He coughs quickly with short, sharp barks. “I’m okay. Just a hiccup.”

Lowering back down, I sigh in relief. “Be careful, Papà.”

“Yes. I’m sorry, you’ve become a board member?”

“Yes. While I was in Italy, I did some soul searching, you could say, and I realized I wanted to do more than just paint for those kids. With Raffaele’s— our —money, there’s so much more I can do for them. We can support the exhausted parents and get better treatment for the kids, access to a higher quality of healthcare and medications previously out of their budgets, y’know? I met with the board a few weeks ago, and I can be pretty persuasive. Although I’m still not sure how I ended up on the board.” Chewing thoughtfully on a floret of broccoli, I laugh. “Maybe I just bought my way on.”

“Why would you do that?” My father watches me intently.

“What do you mean?”

“Doesn’t Raffaele consider that a waste?”

“One, I wouldn’t care even if he did,” I reply. “It’s important to me. And two, he encouraged it. In fact, he was the one who pointed out that I have access to his billions through our marriage, so I really could have thought of it sooner. Why?”

“It seems very… costly.”

“And?” My brows tighten. “Those children and their families are in the same situation we were in, Papà, having to sit back and watch as nothing works to save the one you care about.” Memories of my mother flash briefly before my eyes. “I don’t know if any of it will help, but the least I can do is bring comfort to those parents by helping them try every single last chance to help their children. I think that means the world.”

“And what of your own?” He reaches for his glass of wine. “You haven’t told Raffaele yet, have you?”

I lower my form and subconsciously slide one hand over my stomach. “No,” I say softly. “I want to, but I’m also worried that I’ll get his hopes up and if something happens, I’ll have nothing to give him. I also want to be sure that this is what I want first.”

“Of course it’s what you want.” My father tilts his head, sipping slowly. “What else could you possibly want?”

I snort gently, amused. “Believe it or not, I haven’t spent a lot of my time thinking about kids. And Raffaele is so much older. I’m a little surprised he could even get me pregnant.”

“It’s brilliant that he did.”

My father seems more excited than I’d imagined, given that I’ve never once spoken to him about children. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

“Well, either way, I have time. I’m nearly at three months by my rough calculations, and I’m going to tell Caterina tomorrow so she can help me get to some checkups. I thought about doing it at the hospital, but I don’t want them to see me as weak. Become a board member and then leave in six months to have a baby?”

“That won’t be an issue,” my father replies. “But you won’t be telling Raffaele until you’re sure, correct?”

I nod and then shake my head. “Honestly?” It’s hard to keep a smile from my face. “Things have been going really well. He’s not at all like the man I thought he was. He’s so much more… human than he appears.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” my father replies, aggressively stabbing his pasta.

“You don’t know him like I do.” My stomach tightens faintly, and the next mouthful doesn’t sit as pleasantly. “He’s kind. And sweet. Attentive, too. He just buries it.”

“Don’t forget that he’s a dangerous person. A baby won’t change that.”

Instantly, the air changes. The warm, friendly dinner with my father suddenly feels like an interrogation about Raffaele. Where I want to find support, all I see is judgment.

Maybe it’s my fault. Maybe I should have involved my father more.

Then again, he did tell me to go and be a good little wife.

Setting down my fork, I wipe my lower lip with the napkin and force a smile. “You know, I’m actually really tired. It must be the pregnancy. You know how these things are.”

My father nods, but his attention is suddenly down on his phone.

Irritation buds inside me so I shove my chair back and stand. “I’m going home, Papà. I’m sorry. But the next time we do this, I’ll invite Raffaele and maybe you can see the side of him that I see.”

Clutching my purse to my side, I reach inside for my phone to contact Caterina, intent on asking her to meet me outside.

Just as I approach the door, it suddenly swings open and several of my father’s guards filter inside and purposefully block the door.

“Excuse me,” I say, making my annoyance clear in my tone.

“I’m sorry, Adelina.” My father is on his feet with his phone in his hand.

“What are you sorry for?”

He reaches me and gently takes my hand, smiling at me as if he’s proud and sad at the same time. “I can’t let you leave.”

Those words send a prickly shiver down my spine. “What are you talking about?”

“It will all make sense soon,” he says. “But you need to stay here. Then, you will finally be free from Raffaele.”

“Free?” I scoff softly. “Papà, I don’t want to be free. There’s nothing about him that I need to be free from.”

“You can drop the act,” he says, patting my hand even as I jerk it away from him. “You’ve played your part better than I ever could have expected, but Addie, my dear. It’s time for the final act.”