Chapter 4
The suitcase stayed beside my bed for two days.
It held documents, not clothes.
My salary still went into an account under my name, and my attorney had me confirm access to everything I would need on my own.
"Do you have somewhere else to live?" she asked.
"Not yet."
"You're close to delivery. Secure a safe residence and a plan for after the baby is born before you move."
"What if I take the baby with me?"
"We'll handle residence, privacy, and parenting arrangements carefully. With a family like his, privacy has to be arranged. Don't assume changing an address will be enough."
I saved her checklist in an encrypted folder.
That night, a little after eleven, Isabella sent me her first private message.
[They finally added me back to the Vieri briefing list. Luca may be late tonight. The documents are more complicated than expected. Don't wait up.]
I read the first sentence twice.
She had not told me she was frightened or overwhelmed.
She had told me she was back on the list.
A photograph followed.
Luca sat on a sofa in the west-wing sitting room, tie loosened, whiskey beside a spread of documents. Isabella's bare feet were visible across the carpet.
[11:36 p.m.]
I saved it.
Ten minutes later, Luca walked into the bedroom.
"Why aren't you sleeping?"
"I just got a picture."
I handed him my phone.
His expression darkened.
"Why did she send you this?"
"You should ask her."
"We were working."
"I didn't ask what you were doing."
"Then what are you accusing me of?"
I stood. My abdomen tightened, and I caught the edge of the bed.
Luca reached for me, but I stepped away.
"It's eleven-thirty at night. You're drinking with your ex inside our home. She photographs it, sends it to me, then tells me not to wait for you."
"Nothing happened between us."
"I never said it did. Why did she send me the picture?"
"I don't know."
"Did you ask her?"
Silence.
"Elena, I'm exhausted. I don't want to come home and defend myself over one photograph."
I locked my phone.
"Then don't. I'm done asking you to explain her."
The next afternoon, I returned to the hospital for monitoring.
The doctor studied my contraction record.
"They're becoming more frequent. Regular contractions from here could mean labor."
"How long do I have?"
"Two weeks. Or tonight. Don't stay alone."
On the way home, I texted Luca.
[The doctor says the baby could come anytime. Starting tonight, I need someone at home.]
His reply came almost immediately.
[I know.]
Then another.
[I'm not going anywhere tonight.]
At eight, he came home and placed his phone facedown on the dining table.
After dinner, he rested his palm against my stomach. Our daughter kicked.
"I'll stay with you these next few days."
"Even if Isabella calls?"
He met my eyes.
"Even if she calls."
Seconds later, the phone lit up on the table.
[Isabella]