CHAPTER 15 - LINES DRAWN

The next morning was silent. Too silent.

Aria sat at the breakfast table, untouched toast cooling in front of her. Her phone lay face down, hiding the message that had replayed in her mind all night:

“Luca isn’t who you think he is.”

But she wasn’t chasing shadows anymore. No mysteries. No games. Just truth—and the courage to face it.

Eva padded into the kitchen in mismatched socks, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“Morning.” She yawned, eyeing Aria. “You look like you didn’t sleep.”

“I didn’t,” Aria admitted softly. “You?”

“I slept like a log… until I remembered Luca’s ice-queen mother exists.” Eva poured juice and leaned against the counter. “You good?”

Aria hesitated. “Lucia made me an offer. She wanted me to walk away.”

Eva nearly choked. “What? Like… disappear?”

“Exactly that.” Aria’s voice dropped. “She called me a complication.”

Eva blinked. “Well, she can choke on her pearls. You’re not going anywhere.”

Aria didn’t respond. Her mind wasn’t on Lucia anymore—it was on Luca. On the silence between them since last night. He hadn’t come to her room and hadn’t texted. Hadn’t fought for her the way he’d fought his mother.

And that silence hurt more than the storm.

Maria entered quietly. “Miss Aria, your parents are at the gate.”

Aria froze. “My parents?”

“Yes. Mr. Luca told me this morning he was flying them in.”

Aria stood so fast her chair scraped the floor. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“They’re on their way up now,” Maria said gently, stepping back as footsteps echoed down the hall.

Eva’s eyes widened. “This is either going to be really good… or really bad.”

The door opened. Her mother stood there, stiff in a floral blouse that screamed Sunday service. Her father, beside her, unreadable behind wire-rimmed glasses. They looked out of place in the gilded hall, blinking like they’d stepped into a movie.

“Aria,” her mother breathed, rushing forward. “Oh my God. Look at you.”

Aria hugged her tightly, trembling under the sudden weight of emotion. “Hi, Mom.”

Her father’s hand settled on her shoulder. “You look well.”

Eva muttered, “Well, it’s a stretch,” earning a sharp look from Aria’s mom.

Luca entered moments later, dark suit immaculate except for his loose tie, a detail Aria didn’t miss. His eyes flicked to hers briefly before settling on her parents.

“Thank you for coming,” he said smoothly. “I thought it was time everyone had clarity.”

Her father nodded. “We’ve had questions.”

Her mother’s voice sharpened. “Like, why weren’t we told anything? Why is she living here, pregnant?”

“I didn’t force her,” Luca said firmly. “It was her decision.”

“She’s twenty-two!” her mother snapped.

“I’m right here,” Aria cut in, voice trembling. “You don’t get to act like you cared the second you step into his penthouse. You stopped listening to me a long time ago.”

Her mother stiffened. “That’s not fair.”

Aria stepped back. “You came for answers? Fine. I signed a contract. I agreed to carry his child. But it stopped being just business a long time ago.”

Her father looked at Luca. “And what does she mean by that?”

Luca’s jaw tightened. “It means I care about her. More than I expected to. And I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her.”

A heavy silence fell.

Then her mother asked quietly, “So you love her?”

Luca hesitated.

Less than a second.

But enough.

Aria’s chest cracked open. “That’s what I thought,” she whispered, before turning and walking out.

She found herself in the courtyard, the late morning sun harsh, but her skin cold. Eva followed, sitting beside her.

“He froze,” Aria said before Eva could speak.

“I know.”

“I didn’t need a proposal. I didn’t even need a confession. I just… needed something.”

Eva’s voice softened. “You gave him your body. Your trust. That’s everything.”

“I should have never let it blur,” Aria whispered. “This was supposed to be clean. Clinical.”

Eva smirked faintly. “You were never clinical, babe. You fell. And I think he did too. He’s just not used to bleeding.”

Aria tilted her head toward the sky. “I hate that you’re good with words.”

“I’m even better with wine,” Eva teased. “Want me to grab two glasses and some dramatic music?”

Aria almost smiled. Almost. But the weight didn’t lift.

Inside, Luca paced his office. He hated his silence more than his mother’s venom. Do you love her? The answer was yes.

But giving it breath meant opening a wound he’d never let heal.

A knock.

Maria entered nervously. “Sir, Miss Eva is… requesting your presence. In the garden.”

“Why?” he frowned.

“She said, and I quote, ‘Because you’re the emotionally repressed bastard she chose, and you better fix it before I do.’”

Luca exhaled slowly. “Noted.”

He found Aria by the fountain, Eva perched like a guardian. Eva stood.

“Say something decent, or I will.” Then she walked off.

Luca approached carefully. “Aria.”

She didn’t look up.

“I didn’t say it because I didn’t want it to be cheap. Or forced. Or a bandage.”

Still nothing.

He moved closer. “But I do. I love you.”

Her breath caught.

“I didn’t expect to. I fought it. I buried it. But it’s here. And it’s real. And if you walk away, I won’t stop you. But I’ll follow. Every time.”

Finally, she looked at him—eyes shining, equal parts fear and fire.

“Then stop hesitating.”

He cupped her face gently. “I’m not hesitating now.”

And then he kissed her.

Not rushed. Not rough.

But like a vow being etched into her bones—a promise she hadn’t dared to dream of.

When they broke apart, her breath trembled. “You’re late.”

His mouth curved. “But worth it.”

From the terrace, Eva clapped slowly. “Ten out of ten. Would watch again.”

The moment almost felt safe. Almost.

Until Eva’s phone buzzed, her smile faded as she checked it.

“What is it?” Aria asked.

Eva hesitated, then handed it over. “You’ve been tagged in something.”

Aria unlocked it. A shaky, grainy video loaded—her, outside Luca’s building weeks ago. Eyes red. Belly was noticeable beneath her dress. Crying.

A stranger’s voice narrated over the footage, smug and cruel:

“This is Luca De Rossi’s secret. The girl he’s hiding. The surrogate turned mistress.”

Her pulse roared. Beneath it, the caption screamed:

“How much is too much for a womb?”

The view count jumped from hundreds of thousands to over a million in seconds.

Her vision blurred. Her fingers went numb. The fountain’s soft rush filled the silence.

And for the first time that morning, the air wasn’t too quiet at all.

It was deafening.