Chapter 2 - The Shadows Close In
I shoved the pregnancy test deep into the bottom of the bathroom trash can, burying it beneath a pile of discarded makeup wipes and tissues. I splashed cold water on my face, staring at my pale reflection in the mirror. My blue eyes looked hollow, terrified.
“I’m fine, Liam!” I called out, forcing a lightness into my voice that I didn’t feel. “Just a stomach bug. I think it was the chicken salad at the diner.”
I opened the door to find Liam leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. He was a tall, broad-shouldered mechanic with grease perpetually stained into his knuckles and a heart of absolute gold. He had been my anchor since the day my parents' car was run off the road—an "accident" orchestrated by my Uncle Marcus.
“You don’t look fine, Em,” Liam frowned, studying my face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. You want me to call in sick for you today?”
“I can’t afford to miss a shift,” I said, pushing past him to grab my worn sneakers. “Rent is due on Friday, and my tuition installment is next week.”
“I can cover the rent—”
“No, Liam. You’ve done enough.” I gave him a weak smile, grabbing my bag. “I promise, I’m just feeling a little under the weather.”
The walk to the diner was agonizing. The crisp Chicago wind whipped through my thin jacket, but the chill couldn’t distract me from the frantic calculations spinning in my head. A baby. How was I going to afford a baby? How was I going to keep my uncle from finding me? And most terrifying of all: what would Alessandro do if he knew? Men like him didn’t just let women walk away with their heirs. He would take the child. He would lock me in a gilded cage or, worse, decide my dangerous past was too much of a liability and discard me.
The diner was packed with the morning rush. I plastered on a fake smile, pouring coffee and slinging plates of eggs and bacon while my stomach constantly threatened to rebel. By noon, the crowd thinned out, and I was wiping down the counter when the little bell above the door chimed.
I didn't look up immediately. “Take any seat you like, I’ll be right with—”
I froze. The voice that answered didn't belong to a regular.
“I’ve been looking for you, Emma.”
My head snapped up. Standing in the doorway, dressed in a bespoke navy suit that cost more than my entire life's earnings, was Alessandro Vitali. His broad shoulders seemed to take up the entire entrance. His amber eyes locked onto mine, burning with a mixture of raw relief and simmering anger.
The coffee pot nearly slipped from my grasp. I couldn't breathe. Behind him, parked illegally on the curb, was a sleek black SUV with a driver waiting outside.
“What... what are you doing here?” I stammered, stepping back off the line.
Alessandro walked forward, his sheer presence parting the remaining patrons like the Red Sea. He stopped directly in front of the counter, leaning over the laminate surface until I could smell his expensive cologne—cedar and bergamot.
“You vanished,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “You slipped out of my bed before dawn, left a fake phone number with the concierge, and disappeared. It took my security team six weeks to track you down.”
Panic seized my throat. Six weeks. He had been looking for me this entire time. “Alessandro, you shouldn’t be here. People are looking at us.”
“Let them look.” His gaze swept over my stained uniform, his jaw tightening. “You’re coming with me.”
“I’m working!” I protested, my hands instinctively moving to shield my flat stomach. “I can’t just leave. And I don’t want to go with you.”
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“That is a lie,” he stated smoothly, his eyes dropping to my trembling hands. “And right now, you need my protection more than you need this job. There is a gray sedan parked across the street that has been watching this diner for two hours. My security ran the plates. They belong to a shell company associated with Marcus Thorne.”
My blood turned to ice. Uncle Marcus. He had found me.
