Chapter 8 - The Wall Between Us
The weeks that followed the warehouse incident were a blur of police statements, medical checkups, and legal proceedings. Marcus was indicted on multiple federal charges, guaranteeing he would never see the light of day again. Liam recovered fully, and Alessandro secretly purchased a successful auto body shop and gifted the deed to Liam to ensure he never had to worry about money again.
I was safe. The baby was safe. The nightmare was over.
But inside the sprawling Vitali estate, a heavy, suffocating silence had fallen between Alessandro and me.
My pregnancy was beginning to show, a small, undeniable bump beneath my silk dresses. Alessandro was fiercely attentive. He attended every ultrasound, his amber eyes locked onto the monitor with absolute awe as he listened to our baby’s heartbeat. He hired the best chefs to ensure my diet was perfect. He bought a mountain of toys and clothes for the nursery.
But he treated me like porcelain.
Before the warehouse, there had been fire between us. There had been passionate arguments, deep conversations in the middle of the night, and a burning, undeniable chemistry. Now, he wouldn't even sleep in the same bed. He had moved to the adjoining room, claiming he didn't want to accidentally hurt me while I slept. He kept a respectful distance, his touches limited to a brief kiss on the forehead or a protective hand on the small of my back in public.
I was drowning in my own insecurities.
He doesn't want me, the dark voice in my head whispered. He just wants the heir. You lied to him from the start. You're a liability. He's just doing his duty.
One evening, I couldn't take it anymore. I found him in his home office, pouring over blueprints for a new commercial development. He looked up when I entered, his expression instantly softening.
“Elizabeth. You should be resting. Do you need anything? I can have the kitchen—”
“I need you to stop,” I said, my voice trembling but firm. I walked over and gently closed the laptop on his desk.
He frowned, standing up. “Stop what?”
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“Stop treating me like an incubator,” I cried, the tears I had been holding back for weeks finally spilling over. “Stop walking on eggshells around me. You saved me, Alessandro, and I will be grateful for the rest of my life. But if you only want me here because of the baby, just tell me. I can’t live in this cold, polite silence anymore.”
Alessandro stared at me, completely stunned.
