Nausea
Valeria
I’ve been nauseous for days now.
Not the kind that disappears after a glass of water or a few minutes of rest. No. The kind that comes back every morning—persistent, methodical, impossible to ignore.
There’s nothing mysterious about it.
I’m a scientist. I know exactly what’s happening to me.
I understand the probabilities, the drug interactions, the margins of error.
Discovering afterward that my migraine treatments could reduce the effectiveness of the pill is hardly extraordinary.
It’s written in black and white in package inserts nobody really reads.
Now it’s my reality.
I stare at the three tests lined up on the edge of the sink, unable to breathe properly.
Two pink lines.
Three times.
Slowly, I lift my eyes toward the mirror.
The woman staring back at me looks shocked. Her eyes are too wide, too fixed.
My hand drifts to my still-flat stomach.
Nothing has changed and yet everything is different.
The baby is already there.
A truth slowly settles inside me—gentle and dizzying despite all the questions already flooding my mind:
I’m happy.
Deeply happy.
A baby.
Our baby.
The one we used to talk about before someone tried to kill me. Dante wanted three. I only wanted two. We used to spend hours laughing and debating it.
And now… this baby exists.
The very idea of it overwhelms me already.
But the timing couldn’t be worse. Especially with Dante already expecting a child with Bianca.
Part of me wants to laugh.
Another part wants to cry.
My heart aches for this tiny being already growing inside me. The baby should have been welcomed with joy. Celebrated. Surrounded by love and serenity.
Instead, this child is arriving in the middle of something complicated.
A world where they’ll have to share their father’s time, attention, and affection.
It’s not what I wanted for them.
A tear slips down my cheek. I wipe it away quickly with the back of my hand.
How am I going to tell Dante?
I don’t have time to find an answer.
The laboratory door opens in the next room.
In one quick motion, I grab the tests and shove them to the bottom of my bag. By the time I look up again, my expression is perfectly composed.
Dante knocks softly on the bathroom door.
“Are you coming to lunch?”
“I’m coming.”
My voice doesn’t shake.
My decision is made.
I won’t tell him yet.
Not while he’s supposed to accompany Bianca to their first appointment on Monday afternoon.
I’ll wait for the right moment.
I leave the bathroom and close the door behind me.
Now that Bianca has served her purpose in their trap, Dante allows himself to visit me at the lab, even though we still avoid being seen together in public.
“So what are we eating today?”
“Raspberry cake, duck pie, and truffle ravioli. What do you want to start with?” he asks, amusement gleaming in his eyes.
“With the appetizer.”
I can be civilized too when I want to.
Lunch is delicious, even if I barely eat.
The real challenge is managing to keep everything down afterward.
We’re starting dessert when his phone vibrates.
Bianca.
He doesn’t answer. He immediately silences the phone.
Then a text arrives.
It’s always the same pattern. She tries to contact him every day. He almost never answers, but he always checks her messages.
I know why.
A future father has to remain reachable when the mother of his child is pregnant.
I understand that.
But seeing her name appear on the screen instantly tightens my chest.
Slowly, I set my spoon down.
I’m not hungry anymore.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dante’s fists clench briefly before he forces himself to relax.
He doesn’t look thrilled either.
Dante probably notices my shift in mood, because the rest of the meal gradually loses its lightness.
And when we each return to work, I’m almost relieved.
The rest of the week passes in a haze of exhaustion, research, and morning sickness.
Louane continues helping me whenever she can. We’ve found a promising lead, but it will still take hundreds of tests before we can confirm our theory.
Over the past few days, she’s started watching me more closely.
I think she suspects something.
I’ll have to come up with a believable excuse this weekend if I want to stop Dante from starting to ask questions too.
Inspector Sanders calls me late Friday afternoon.
“I have news.”
From his tone alone, I immediately understand this isn’t a minor update.
“We reviewed all the footage from the night of your attack. We have a lead. A man already known to us who wasn’t on the guest list. He goes by Cain.”
I hold my breath.
“We’ve issued a warrant for his arrest.”
“You think he’s still working for Wald?”
“No. He’s a hired killer. We’re now trying to identify the intermediary so we can trace it back to the person who ordered the hit.”
A hired killer.
The words echo coldly through my mind.
For several seconds, I remain motionless, the phone still pressed to my ear.
Part of me already knew.
Hearing it confirmed is still chilling.
“Thank you for keeping us informed, Inspector.”
On Saturday, we stay at the manor.
Noticing my exhaustion, Dante insists I rest. He blames it on my health still being fragile.
We spend part of the afternoon looking through the first properties one of his real-estate-agent friends preselected for us.
“I asked him to start the search before we left for the Seychelles,” Dante explains. “I want us to move quickly.”
I immediately understand what he isn’t saying.
He doesn’t want me returning to the penthouse he shared with Bianca.
I push the thought away before it has time to hurt me. Dwelling on the past won’t bring us anything.
I scroll through the photos before stopping abruptly.
“Dante… these aren’t houses you’re showing me. They’re mansions. There’s a garden, four floors, and at least ten bedroom suites with private bathrooms.”
He doesn’t seem remotely bothered.
“We’ll need one bedroom per child, space for the nanny, the cook, and the driver-bodyguards.”
Slowly, I raise my eyes toward him.
“You’re completely insane.”
A smile stretches across his lips.
“No. I plan ahead. Anything that can be delegated gets delegated. The time we’ll have together, I want us to truly enjoy it. If one day you feel like cooking, we’ll cook. But I want it to be a choice, never an obligation.”
His words touch me more than I want to admit.
I cradle his face in my hands before pressing a kiss to his lips.
“Still haven’t figured it out? I love every minute spent with you. Even the ones where we’re cleaning or cooking.”
I smile faintly.
“But fine… we can compromise. A cook during the week and… a nanny for the baby.”
The words linger between us.
I know immediately what he’s thinking about.
The baby he’s going to have with Bianca.
And it hurts.
He’s thinking about that child. I’m thinking about the secret already growing inside me.
This would be the perfect moment to tell him I’m pregnant too.
But I can’t do it.
None of this is fair.
Dante notices my shift in mood immediately.
Without asking a single question, he simply pulls me into his arms.
He doesn’t try to reassure me. He doesn’t promise me everything will be okay. He just holds me.
And for the first time, I finally let myself break down.