After the exhibition ended, I left the gallery alone.A black sedan was parked across the street.The moment its door opened, I stopped walking.Dante stepped out.He had come without armed men or bodyguards. In the months since I had last seen him, he had lost weight. The exhaustion in his eyes looked as though he hadn’t slept in weeks.He stood there staring at me, almost afraid to come closer.“Elena.”At the sound of his voice, my hand moved instinctively over my stomach.Dante’s gaze followed the movement.Even my loose dress could no longer conceal that I was more than seven months pregnant.He stared at my swollen belly, unable to speak.When he finally found his voice, the words came out strained.“Is that…our baby?”“That has nothing to do with you.”Dante swayed slightly.“The hospital record was real.”At last, he understood what I had been about to tell him before the yacht went down.“You survived. And you’re carrying our child.”“This child is a Moretti.”I walked around
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