The past two weeks since revealing my pregnancy to Stefano have passed in a whirlwind of change and heightened emotions. That very night, he insisted I move into his penthouse, his protectiveness over me and our unborn child already fiercely evident. Though I know his attentiveness stems from concern for the baby, a traitorous part of my heart can't help but wish this closeness and care was born from love for me as well.

Still, I can't complain. Stefano has been nothing short of wonderful, anticipating my every need and comfort. It's a bittersweet taste of the life we could have had if only things were different between us.

Now, we sit side-by-side in the hospital room, awaiting my first ultrasound. I fidget nervously on the exam table, the crinkle of the paper gown loud in the sterile quiet. Stefano is a solid presence beside me, his expensive suit and cologne incongruent with the clinical setting.

Dr. Angelina, the only OB-GYN in Sicily that Stefano trusts breezes into the room with a warm smile. "Are we ready?"

I nod, adjusting my position and trying to calm the butterflies rioting in my stomach. "Yes, I think so."

As the doctor busies herself with the ultrasound machine, Stefano surprises me by taking my hand in his, our fingers interlacing. He leans in close, his breath a whisper against my hair as he murmurs, "Everything is going to be alright." Gently, he presses a soft kiss to my forehead.

The tender gesture sends my heart tumbling in my chest, the embers of my love for him flaring bright and hot despite my best efforts to keep them banked. I have to remind myself that this is about the baby, not us. Not anymore.

"Here is your baby," Dr. Angelina announces, jolting me out of my melancholy musings. She points to the screen and turns up the volume. "And this is the heartbeat."

The room fills with a rapid whooshing thrum, the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. Tears spring to my eyes as the reality of the tiny life growing inside me sinks in deep and true. I glance over at Stefano and find him grinning, his eyes suspiciously misty. In that moment, the sheer joy and wonder on his face takes my breath away.

"How is the baby doing?" he asks, his voice rough with emotion.

Dr. Angelina beams at us both. "The baby is healthy and developing normally. Heartbeat is nice and strong."

"That's wonderful," I breathe, studying the fuzzy black-and-white images on the screen, trying to make out our little one's form amidst the shadows.

The doctor must notice my intent perusal. "You might not be able to see much detail yet since you're still in the first trimester. But I assure you, your baby is right there, safe and sound."

I nod, resting a hand on my still-flat stomach. Even if I can't discern the baby on the ultrasound yet, I can feel the changes in my body, the occasional flutter and pull. And, of course, the near-constant morning sickness is a less-than-pleasant reminder of the miraculous process taking place within me.

After the appointment, armed with a sheaf of ultrasound printouts and another recitation of pregnancy do's and don'ts from Dr. Angelina, Stefano and I make our way out of the hospital.

Later that night, sleep eluded me, my mind whirling with the events of the day and the uncertainties looming ahead. Restless, I slip out of bed and pad softly through the dimly lit penthouse, my slippers whispering against the smooth marble floor. Before I realize it, I find myself standing outside Stefano's bedroom door, an inexplicable longing to see him tugging at my heart.

Hardly daring to breathe, I ease the door open and step inside, the room shrouded in shadows. Stefano is a dark silhouette on the bed, his face turned away from me. Drawn like a moth to a flame, I tiptoe around to the other side, desperate for a glimpse of his unguarded expression in sleep.

Even in the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains, I can't make out his features clearly. Throwing caution to the wind, I shed my slippers and carefully slide beneath the covers, the cool sheets whispering against my skin. Scooting closer, I study the planes and angles of his face, so familiar yet still holding the power to steal my breath.

My fingers itch to trace the curve of his cheekbone, to run through the dark silk of his hair, but I hold back, knowing the slightest touch will wake him. Instead, I burrow deeper into the pillow, letting his scent envelop me like a soothing balm. The crisp notes of his cologne mingle with the heady musk of his skin, and I feel the tension bleeding from my muscles, my eyelids growing heavy.

Just as I'm about to slip away, Stefano's strong arm snakes around my waist, hauling me back against the solid wall of his chest. I stiffen, hardly daring to breathe, wondering if he's mistaken me for someone else in his sleep-addled state.

But then his nose grazes the sensitive skin of my neck, tracing a slow, deliberate path to the hollow behind my ear. He nuzzles into my hair, his lips brushing my temple as he murmurs, "Never leave me again. I missed you so much."

Why would he say that? It doesn't make sense—he's the one who dumped me, not the other way around. For a moment, I wonder if he's mistaken me for someone else, but I quickly dismiss the thought. Every human has a unique scent, and I'm certain he recognized mine when he was nuzzling my neck earlier. My heightened senses don't lie; the way his breath hitched told me he knew exactly who I was.

A troubling suspicion takes root in my mind, spreading like wildfire through my thoughts. What if Stefano lied about his reasons for breaking up with me? The possibility sends a shiver down my spine, a mixture of hope and dread coursing through my veins. I need to uncover the truth behind his actions. If there's another reason—something hidden, something we can address—I'll move heaven and earth to fix it. Our connection is too rare, too precious to let slip away without a fight. Whatever drove us apart, be it human or supernatural, I'm determined to face it head-on.

***

The following day, I awaken with a desperate need to pee, my bladder screaming for relief. The first pale fingers of dawn have yet to creep through the curtains, and Stefano still slumbers peacefully beside me, his arm a heavy weight across my waist.

Thank God he's still asleep. I can only imagine the awkwardness if he woke to find me in his bed uninvited.

Moving with painstaking care, I ease out from beneath his arm and slip from the covers, holding my breath until my feet touch the floor. I slide my feet into my slippers, wincing at the faint rustling sound in the predawn hush.

Each step to the door is a study in stealth, my heart pounding against my ribs as I pray he doesn't stir. When I finally ease the door shut behind me, I nearly sag with relief. Crisis averted.

Back in my own room, I take care of business and crawl back into bed, emotionally spent. Sleep claims me quickly, dragging me under into a dreamless oblivion.

Hours later, I emerge from my room, freshly showered and ready to face the day. My stomach grumbles as I pad into the kitchen in search of food, only to pull up short at the sight of Stefano leaning against the marble countertop, nursing a cup of coffee. I assumed he'd be long gone to the office by now.

"You're finally awake," he remarks, setting his mug aside and closing the distance between us. Uncertainty prickles under my skin at his inscrutable expression.

"Do you need something from me?" I ask, trying to suss out his reason for lingering instead of heading to work.

"I need you to pack your things. I'm taking you back to the estate."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. "Are you going out of town for a few days?" I manage through the sudden tightness in my throat, already turning to retreat to my room.

Stefano follows, his presence looming and impossible to ignore. "No, you're moving back there."

"What? Why?" I whirl to face him, confusion and hurt warring for dominance inside me.

"I want you to." His jaw clenches, gaze flickering away from mine.

"But why?"

"I don't think it's a good idea for you to be staying here."

"Why is it suddenly not a good idea for me to stay here?"

"It's not safe for you or the baby."

I search his shuttered expression, instinct telling me there's more to this abrupt decision than concern for our well-being. "Since when?"

"Since now." The finality in his tone brooks no argument.

Frustration simmers, tightening my muscles. "Stefano, please. Tell me the real reason you're kicking me out."

"There is no other reason." His eyes meet mine, cool and remote, giving nothing away.

I want to push, to demand the truth, but I can tell it will get me nowhere. Defeated, I turn away to start packing. "Fine. Wait for me in the living room. I'll be ready in a few minutes."

As I methodically fill my suitcase, my mind races, picking apart our interaction. I can't shake the sinking feeling that my presence in his bed last night spooked him. That he's sending me away because he's afraid of his own feelings reigniting if I remain too close.

The thought pierces me with a pain so sharp I have to blink back sudden tears. Is the idea of loving me again so abhorrent to him? So unthinkable that he has to physically distance himself?

I just wish I knew what I did to make him stop loving me in the first place. What insurmountable sin I committed that he can't find it in himself to forgive. But I know I'll likely never get that answer. Stefano guards his heart and his secrets with ironclad control.

As I zip my bag closed, resignation settles over me like a shroud. It's time I stop clinging to the scraps of his affection and accept the painful truth - we have no future together. Stefano has made that achingly clear.

If I ever want to find happiness, I have to let him go and move forward. No matter how much it breaks my heart.

With grim determination, I square my shoulders and walk out to meet him, my heart fracturing a little more with every step. It's time to say goodbye to the beautiful dream of us.

For good, this time.

***

The sun hangs high in the Sicilian sky as I sit in the Costanzo estate's opulent living room, my packed bags waiting for Stefano. The baby and I are doing fine, but today, I'm leaving Sicily. Stefano plans to send me to Singapore until it's safe for the baby and me to return to Sicily or Miami. Nobody knows where I am going except Stefano and me. We all felt it would be safer that way; even my mom doesn't know.

Aurora's entrance breaks my reverie. "I'm going to miss you," she says, her voice thick with emotion.

"Me too," I reply, fighting back the lump in my throat.

"Hopefully, Stefano will deal with Vladimir soon, so it will be safe for you to be around us again," Aurora adds, her eyes reflecting a mix of hope and worry.

I nod, glancing at my wristwatch for the second time in twenty minutes. Anxiety gnaws at my insides. "Did Stefano tell you anything to pass on to me?" I ask, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice.

Aurora's brow furrows. "No, was he supposed to?"

"Not really," I admit, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. "He was meant to be here an hour ago. I haven't heard from him since this morning. I thought maybe you'd know why he's late."

It's high noon, and Stefano's absence is becoming increasingly concerning.

"Oh, I haven't spoken to him since this morning either," Aurora says, reaching for her phone. "Did you try calling him?"

"I did, but it keeps going to voicemail," I reply, unable to keep the worry from creeping into my voice. "I'm starting to get really anxious, Aurora."

She attempts to reassure me, but her own concern is evident. "No need to panic. I'm sure everything is fine."

"I pray so too, and—" My words are cut short by the shrill ring of my phone. My heart leaps, expecting to see Stefano's name, but it's an unknown number. Desperation overrides caution, and I answer.

"Hello, my Love," a chillingly familiar voice purrs, sending ice through my veins. "It's been ages since we last spoke."

"Ivan," I spit, my grip on the phone tightening until my knuckles turn white. Rage and fear war within me, memories of his brutality flashing behind my eyes.

"Savior?" I exclaim in disbelief.

"Yes, I am your savior. Did you really think I didn't know you still had a pulse on you when I was done with you? I am the reason you are still alive, Baby, so you should be thanking me instead of threatening me."

"I would have rather you kill me than thank you for letting me live!" I knew the reason I survived that beating was not because I was lucky. I wasn't sure he let me live, but now I am. There is no way men like him would kill someone so quick. I would have been tortured for days before he would end my life.

"Don't say things like that, my Love. I could never kill you. You are the love of my life."

"Why the fuck did you almost beat me to death if I am the love of your life, you bastard!"

"I needed to show you that your life is in my hands," Ivan declares, his voice a mockery of tenderness. "Only I can keep you safe, not Stefano."

Bile rises in my throat. I can't believe he made me think he beat me up because he couldn't have me. This new reason is even more fucked up than the last. "You are the sickest human being I've ever met!" I snarl, finger hovering over the end call button.

"Don't hang up yet, Dear," he croons. "Don't you want to know why I'm calling?"

Dread pools in my stomach. "Why are you calling me?"

His next words stop my heart. "I'm sure you've noticed that fool who stole you from me didn't arrive at the Costanzo estate today."

Terror claws at my throat. "Ivan, what have you done to Stefano?" I demand, my voice trembling with fury and fear.

"I have a little present for you," he replies cryptically. "I'll leave you to enjoy it. Bye for now."

The line goes dead, leaving me reeling. Seconds later, a maid enters with an envelope. My heart racing, I snatch it from her hands and tear it open, revealing a sleek black phone inside.

"A phone?" Aurora's voice is laced with confusion as she peers over my shoulder. Turning to the maid, she demands, "Where did you get this envelope?"

The maid shifts nervously. "The security guard at the gate gave it to me, Miss."

"Did he say who delivered it?" I ask my voice tight with anxiety.

"No, Miss. He didn't mention anything."

Forcing a calm I don't feel, I dismiss her. "Thank you, Lisa. You may go."

As soon as the door closes, I turn to Aurora. "We need to track down whoever delivered this phone."

She's already reaching for her own device. "I'm on it."

My fingers tremble as I power on the mysterious phone, desperately searching for clues. The call log and messages are empty, but in the photo gallery, a single video file awaits.

"Let's see what this is about," Aurora murmurs, her face pale with apprehension.

The moment I press play, my world shatters. Tears blur my vision as the horrifying scene unfolds before me. My legs give out, and I collapse onto the nearby couch, my body wracked with sobs.

"Aurora," I choke out, my voice raw with anguish, "tell me this isn't real. Please, tell me it's fake!"

But the tears streaming down her face confirm my worst fears. "I wish I could," she whispers, her voice breaking.

Thomas bursts into the room, alarm etched across his features. "What's going on? Why are you crying?"

I try to hand him the phone, but my hands are shaking so violently I can barely hold it.

"What's on that fucking phone?" Thomas asks, again picking up the phone. Before he can play the video, a voice behind answers his question.

"Stefano has been kidnapped."