Chapter 2

The words didn't just hurt; they stung. Over the past three months, at quiet dinners, at every hospital visit, her fragile heart had convinced herself that he cares, but it had vanished into nothing in the single sentence he spoke. She wasn't his wife. She had never been his wife; it had always been a contract, a debt he was collecting on behalf of her brother, her womb being used for breeding.

"That's good to hear; I can't stand the way you have to indulge her now just because she is pregnant," the woman grumbled, and even the audacity of a stranger complaining about having to share Marco's attention with his own pregnant wife barely registered in her mind anymore. Daniela was too busy drowning.

"Enough, Ashley, let's not talk about her now; we need to finalise the contract today," the second man cut in.

Daniela stood rooted to the spot, frozen, her mind refusing to process what her ears had just heard. For one second, the world went silent around her, as if her body was protecting her from the full weight of the betrayal crashing down. Then, instinct took over; she stepped back from the door, silent, careful, every movement mechanical as she turned and half-ran towards her bedroom, one hand still cradling her stomach as though shielding the twins from the negativity of what she had just learned.

She shut the door behind her and slid down against it, her legs giving out beneath her, and the tears came before she could stop them, hot and relentless, spilling down her cheeks in a flood she had no strength left to hold back. Her whole body shook with silent sobs, one hand clutching the fabric over her heart, the other still resting protectively over the twins who had no idea their mother's entire world had just collapsed.

So for the past few months all his care was nothing but an act?

The question broke her, over and over, an accusation she couldn't stop. The hiring of new chefs and the chef-prepared meals, the quiet evenings sitting besides her, the hospital visits, and his hand occasionally brushing hers as they watched the screen together meant nothing. She had a fragile hope on the bed of lies, and now it lay in ruins around her, and she wasn't sure there was anything left inside her to pick the pieces back up.

Her brother, her only family, his name alone was enough to crack something open in her chest.

Henry Carter had vanished from her life eight years ago, when she was barely seventeen and still believed the world was a place that rewarded good people. He had left for military service with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and a promise—"Dani, live a good life while I am away serving our country; don’t worry about me, I will always be there protecting you. "And he had tried, in his own way, birthday gifts that arrived weeks late, wire transfers with no explanation, and the occasional phone call at odd hours where his voice sounded tired in ways she didn't understand yet. She had told herself it was enough. It had to be enough. He was all she had.

Then, three months ago, his face had been splashed across every tabloid. Corporate Spy Arrested. Military veteran charged with espionage against the Ferrara Empire. She remembered the exact moment she saw it: the coffee mug had slipped from her hand, shattering against the kitchen tile, the sound almost distant beneath the roaring in her ears.

This isn't him. This isn't my brother, she told herself repeatedly.

She had begged, actually begged, through a desperate phone call to Marco to let her attend the hearing. Marco had agreed, the very man whose company her brother had been accused of betraying and the very man who had built the case against him, evidence compiled together, and there was no room left for doubt, no room left for hope.

She had sat in that courtroom in silence, her hands clenched so tightly in her lap that her nails left marks in her palms as she watched her brother—her brother, the boy who used to carry her on his shoulders through their grandmother's orchard—stand and plead guilty. She was sentenced to ten years of imprisonment. The judge's voice was barely over before something inside her gave way entirely.

"Please," she had sobbed, turning to Marco, clutching at his sleeve with a desperation she would later be ashamed of. "Please, Marco, do something; he is all I have, please, Marco—"

"He is getting what he deserves," Marco had said flatly, not even looking at her.

The last thing she remembered was her brother being taken away, and she blacked out.

She woke in a hospital bed, fluorescent light searing her eyes, Marco on one side and Grace—his grandmother, the only warmth she had ever felt in that family was from Grace Ferrara.

"You're pregnant," Marco had told her without any gentleness, just fact, delivered like a business update.

She remembered staring at him, her whole body still raw from grief, and the only question that had mattered slipping out of her before she could stop it. "Do you still want to be with me after what my brother did?"

Even as she asked it, some small, stubborn part of her heart had whispered he is innocent. I know he is innocent, but grief had made her doubt everything, even the brother who had raised her and cared about her more than her parents ever had.

"Don't worry about that," Marco had said, his voice unreadable. "It won't affect our marriage. Just take care of yourself and the baby."

She hadn't understood, then, how those words were not comfort but calculation.

Grace had taken her hand, squeezing it with warmth that felt like the only solid thing in a world coming apart at the seams. "Don't you worry about your brother, Tesoro; we are your family now."

“Family.” The word had settled strangely in her chest even then, even though the haze of exhaustion and heartbreak, as her fingers drifted to her stomach to the impossible, terrifying new life beginning there.

She had insisted on seeing Daniel before her discharge, and Marco had objected immediately, his jaw tightening in a way she should have recognized as a warning rather than mere overprotectiveness. But Grace had scolded her grandson so harshly that even Daniela hadn't expected it.

"She lost her brother today, Marco. You will not take this chance away from her; let her visit him after all he is her only family."

He had relented. She hadn't understood, then, that it was one of the only times he ever had.