Chapter 94
Chapter 94
W
Isabella’s POV
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Mateo swung his backpack onto his shoulders with the kind of dramatic sigh that suggested school was a personal injustice. He usually wasn’t fussy about going to school, but some days, he wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about it. And today was just one of those days.
“You’ll survive,” I told him, crouching to straighten the strap he’d twisted. “It’s only Tuesday.”
“That’s the worst day,” he said solemnly. “It’s not even close to the weekend.”
I smiled, brushing my thumb under his eye where sleep still lingered. “You won’t even be bothered about what day it is once you go inside and start talking to your friends.”
He seemed to think about it for a moment before nodding with a grin. “You’re right.”
I chuckled, kissing his forehead and watched him walk towards the school gate, small and steady, before turning back to the
car.
Only when he disappeared inside did I let my smile fade.
I waited.
Ten minutes. Enough time for the usual routine to play out back at the villa. Alessia leaving late, always after Dominic. Always just a little too carefully timed. I had noticed it before and filed it away without quite knowing why.
Now, it mattered.
I’d come up with a simple plan to begin digging into whether or not Alessia was telling the truth. I was going to go to her room when she wasn’t home and take a look at her medical reports to figure out when she conceived her child. That would give me an approximate date. Then I could go from there and figure out what exactly had happened that day.
I drove back slowly, forcing myself not to rush. Panic made mistakes. Curiosity, handled properly, uncovered truths.
The house was quiet when I stepped inside. Too quiet. The kind of silence that felt almost eerie. Or maybe I was feeling that way because of what I was about to do.
I didn’t hesitate.
I walked towards Alessia’s room, closing the door softly behind me once inside, my pulse already ucking faster.
Okay, Isabella. Don’t overthink. You’re not doing anything wrong. You live here.
I went straight to the dresser first. Nothing. Then the bedside table. Still nothing.
My fingers brushed the edge of her handbag on the chair.
There.
Inside, tucked between a leather notebook and a packet of mints, was a thin folder.
Medical reports.
My breath hitched as I pulled them out.
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anneil quickly my mind sharpening into focus as the words began to make sense. Dates. Measurements. Terminology I didn’t need to fully understand to see the number that mattered.
Gestational age: approximater sixteen weeks.
Four months.
The room seemed to tilt.
Four months meant-
I did the math without meaning to. Backwards, fast, relentless. The night Alessia had claimed. The night Dominic supposedly didn’t remember.
It lined up.
But it lined up a little too perfectly.
Four months ago was just before I came back into Dominic’s life.
Before Florence. Before Mateo. Before me.
My stomach twisted.
If she was telling the truth then the timing made sense.
And yet.
Something cold slid down my spine.
Alessia wasn’t the kind of woman who waited. She didn’t hesitate. She didn’t sit on leverage like this unless there was a
reason.
And that reason scared me more than the pregnancy itself./
I slid the reports back into her bag exactly as I’d found them, my hands steady despite the pounding in my chest. No evidence disturbed. No trace left behind.
I was turning to leave when the sound of the front door opening floated up the hallway.
My heart slammed.
I didn’t run. Running would give me away.
Γ
I walked out of the room calmly, closing the door behind me just as footsteps echoed below. By the time I reached the staircase, Alessia was stepping inside, sunglasses still on, keys dangling from her fingers.
Her head snapped up when she saw me.
Surprise flickered across her face before she smoothed it into something polite. Curious.
“Isabella,” she said. “I didn’t expect you to be home.”
I forced my expression into mild annoyance. “I forgot an important document.”
Her gaze flicked past me, down the hall.
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My pulse spiked for a moment, wondering if she had somehow figured out my bald lie. But nothing in her expression seemed suspicious, just curious Good.
“Oh,” she said. “You’re leaving again?”
“Yes.” I adjusted my bag deliberately, “I’ll be late. Meetings.”
She nodded, slowly, studying me, her gaze still curious. She looked like she wanted to say something, but at the last moment decided not to.
Then she smiled.
“Well” she said lightly, “take care.”
“You too,” I replied, already moving towards the door. “You don’t look well.”
Something sharp flashed in her eyes at that. Not fear. Calculation.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Just tired.”
I didn’t respond. I walked out without looking back.
Only once I was in the car did I let myself breathe.
Okay.
Okay.
Four months pregnant. The timing was real.
But the silence wasn’t.
I drove to the office on autopilot, my thoughts spiraling as the city blurred past. If Alessia was telling the truth about the night with Dominic, then there would be records. Movements. People who remembered where he was, what state he was in.
Dominic never went anywhere alone.
Which meant someone else knew.
I couldn’t ask him directly, not yet. Not without risking tipping her off, not without risking the fragile balance i was trying to maintain.
But there were others.
Men who watched. Who remembered.
Eduardo.
The thought settled in my mind with quiet certainty.
He had been with Dominic for years. He went everywhere with him, loyal to a fault, but not blind. If anyone knew where Dominic had been that night, it would be him.
I parked and sat there for a moment longer, my hands resting on the steering wheel.
This wasn’t about jealousy anymore.
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this was about truth
And I wasn’t going to be the woman who swallowed half of it just to keep the peace.
Not again.
Not ever.
Cedella is a passionate storyteller known for her bold romantic and spicy novels that keep readers hooked from the very first chapter. With a flair for crafting emotionally intense plots and unforgettable characters, she blends love, desire, and drama into every story she writes. Cedella’s storytelling style is immersive and addictive—perfect for fans of heated romances and heart-pounding twists.

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