Chapter 171 - ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY ONE

Chapter 171: Chapter ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY ONE

ANGEL

Standing behind me.

Damien.

His grey eyes bright with amusement. Blood on the suit he’d worn for our wedding. Bullet holes that should have killed him, that did kill him, that couldn’t have killed him because he was here.

That smile. That unhinged, crazy smile that said he knew something I didn’t.

"Miss me, Angel?"

I spun around.

Nothing.

Empty bathroom. Marble tiles gleaming under the bright lights. No one there.

My breath was coming too fast, too shallow, black spots dancing at the edges of my vision.

I blinked hard and inhaled deeply, filling my lungs with air that tasted like antiseptic and soap.

Snap out of it, Angel!

I slapped my cheek twice. Hard enough to sting.

He’s not real. He’s not real. He’s dead. Vincenzo killed him. I watched him die.

I turned back to the mirror.

He was still there.

Closer now. Right behind my shoulder. His lips near my ear, close enough that I could have sworn I felt his breath.

"I told you I’d always come back." His voice was a whisper. A caress that spread goosebumps across my skin like ice water. "Did you think I was lying?"

"You’re not real." My voice came out high, shaky, panicked and totally out of control.

"Am I?" His hand reached out—I could see it in the mirror, pale and bloodless—and touched my shoulder.

I felt it.

Cold. So cold. Like ice pressing against my skin through the thin hospital gown.

"I’ll always be with you, Angel." His reflection smiled wider.

I stumbled backward. My foot caught on the bath mat and my balance gave out entirely.

I fell.

My hip hit the marble first, a burst of pain that stole my breath. Then my hand reached out to catch myself, but instead found the edge of the sink, slick and wet beneath my palm, causing me to slip further.

My head cracked against something hard—the edge of the counter, the floor, I couldn’t tell.

A second dose of pain exploded through my skull.

"Argh!" I barely recognized my own scream echoing through the bathroom.

The door burst open before the scream had finished leaving my throat.

Vincenzo barged in. Wild-eyed. Frantic. Gun drawn from somewhere, I didn’t even know he’d been armed.

"Angel!"

"He was here." I was shaking. Sobbing. I could feel blood trickling down my temple. "He was here again, Daddy, I swear, I saw him, he was right behind me—"

Vincenzo’s arms were around me before I could finish. He lifted me, cradling me against his chest.

"There’s no one here, baby girl." His voice was firm. Certain. But I could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles were coiled tight, ready to kill something that wasn’t there. "Look. Look around. There’s no one."

I didn’t look. I couldn’t. I just buried my face against his shoulder and let him hold me.

He was already carrying me out of the bathroom, back to the bed, hitting the call button with his elbow so hard I heard the plastic crack beneath the force.

He laid me down on the bed with impossible gentleness, his hands framing my face, forcing me to look at him. To focus on his dark eyes instead of the shadows that lurked in every corner.

"You’re okay," he said, "You’ll be fine."

The room filled with medical staff within minutes.

Doctors and nurses, checking my vitals, shining lights in my eyes, examining the cut on my temple with gloved fingers and concerned frowns. Their voices blurred together—clinical terms and reassurances that washed over me without sinking in.

"Just a superficial wound," one of them announced after what felt like hours. "No concussion. A few stitches to be safe, but she’ll be fine."

Fine. That word again. Everyone kept telling me I’d be fine.

I didn’t feel fine. I felt like I was losing my grip on reality. The walls between what was real and what wasn’t were crumbling, and Damien was waiting on the other side to catch me when I fell.

"We should run some additional tests," another doctor said, glancing at Vincenzo. "Given the fall... we need to make sure the baby wasn’t affected."

The baby.

My hand moved to my stomach automatically, cupping the small swell that had been growing steadily despite everything.

Vincenzo’s hand covered mine. "Do whatever you need to do," he told the doctors. "Whatever it takes. I need to know they’re both healthy."

I stared at him, searching his face for any sign of resentment, any hint of the hatred Damien had promised would come. I couldn’t exactly read his gaze, but he didn’t look mad at all. Just... worried. Desperate. Like my wellbeing—and the baby’s—actually mattered to him.

They took blood. Vials and vials of it, until I felt faint and lightheaded.

They ran scans. I felt cold gel on my belly, a wand pressing against my skin, images flickering on a screen that I couldn’t read—grainy shapes and shadows that were supposed to be my baby.

I watched eagerly as they hooked me up to monitors while I lay in the bed, trying not to think about Damien’s face in the mirror. Trying not to hear his voice echoing in my skull: ’Part of me is growing inside you right now.’

"How’s the baby?" Vincenzo asked.

"It’s nothing serious," the doctor smiled, wiping off the gel on my stomach with a warm cloth. "The growth is normal as expected for a twenty-week-old fetus."

My ears rang.

No.

That couldn’t be right.

When I was with Damien, it was already at fourteen weeks. He’d told me so himself—had shown me the ultrasound photos. It had been a lot of time since then. Several months actually.

How could it only be twenty weeks?

I stared at the doctor open-mouthed, shocked. "Are you sure about the date?"

"Of course, why wouldn’t I be?" The doctor looked confused as he glanced from me to Vincenzo, who had also gone rigid beside me. "The measurements are quite clear. Twenty weeks exactly."

The room seemed to tilt.

Twenty weeks.

If I did the math—if I traced the timeline back—twenty weeks ago, I wasn’t with Damien. Twenty weeks ago, I was still at the mansion. With Daddy.

Then the baby wasn’t...

I looked at Vincenzo.

He was staring at me with an expression that was caught between shock and terrified wonder.

The baby wasn’t Damien’s.