The morning light filtered through the curtains, but Elena wasn't resting. She stood by her closet, pulling out a simple blouse and jeans, her movements brisk and determined.
Brittany entered, pausing when she saw Elena dressed.
"You're going somewhere?" she asked carefully.
"I'm going to class," Elena replied, her tone firm.
Brittany stepped closer. "Mr. Moretti isn't home. If he finds out you went to campus, he'll be furious."
Elena didn't flinch. "I'm not his prisoner."
"He's just trying to protect you," Brittany said gently.
Elena turned, her eyes sharp. "No. He's protecting the child. I need to protect myself."
Without waiting for a response, she picked up her phone and called the chauffeur.
"Please bring the car around," she said. "I'm heading to campus."
Brittany watched her, concern etched across her face, but Elena didn't waver.
She needed to feel normal again.
Even if it was just for a few hours.
The car pulled up quietly at the edge of the university grounds. Elena stepped out, dressed simply, her wrist still bandaged but her posture upright.
She walked toward her department building, the familiar sights and sounds of campus surrounding her. But the moment of comfort was short-lived.
As she passed a shaded bench near the entrance, she overheard two students whispering.
"Why has she been dropped off by expensive cars lately?" one asked.
"Maybe she's a sugar baby now," the other replied with a laugh.
Elena stopped.
For the first time, she didn't shrink away.
She turned to them, her voice steady.
"Maybe it won't matter if you just mind your business and do what you're here for."
The students fell silent, startled by her tone.
Elena didn't wait for a response.
She turned and walked toward her class, her steps firm, her head held high.
The classroom was quiet, filled with the soft rustle of notebooks and the hum of the projector. The lecturer stood at the front, gesturing toward a diagram of fetal development on the screen.
"Now," he said, "can anyone explain the hormonal changes that occur during the first trimester of pregnancy?"
A few students scribbled notes. No one raised a hand.
Then Marissa's voice rang out from the back of the room.
"Maybe ask Elena…" she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "She's enlightened on this topic."
She smirked and looked directly at Elena, her eyes gleaming with mockery.
Elena froze.
The room shifted.
Heads turned.
Whispers began.
"What? Has she been pregnant before?"
"Does she have a child?"
"Could she be pregnant?"
Elena stared at Marissa, her expression tight, her heart pounding.
She felt exposed.
Cornered.
And yet—she didn't look away.
She held Marissa's gaze, even as the whispers grew louder.
The lecturer turned toward Elena, eyebrows raised.
"Miss Elena," he said, clearly unaware of the undertone in Marissa's comment. "I hear you're enlightened. Could you help us out?"
Elena's breath caught.
She looked around the classroom—faces staring, some curious, others judgmental. Marissa leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, smug.
Elena swallowed hard.
Then, slowly, she stood.
Her voice was quiet at first, but steady.
"Well," she began, "during the first trimester, the body increases production of progesterone and estrogen to support the pregnancy. Progesterone helps maintain the uterine lining, while estrogen promotes the development of the placenta and regulates other hormones…"
The room was silent.
Even the whispers stopped.
"…and the hormone hCG—human chorionic gonadotropin—is what pregnancy tests detect. It's produced by cells that form the placenta and helps sustain the corpus luteum."
She paused.
Then sat down.
The lecturer nodded, impressed. "Excellent. That's exactly right."
Students blinked.
Some exchanged glances.
Marissa's smirk faltered.
Elena didn't look at her.
She didn't need to.
After the lecture. Students trickled out of the lecture hall, their conversations light and scattered. Elena walked quietly among them, her notebook clutched tightly to her chest, her eyes low. Her heart was still heavy from the moment in class.
Marissa stood near the hallway wall, arms folded, eyes locked on Elena.
She raised her voice, loud enough to draw attention.
"Who knew you'd be so knowledgeable on pregnancy and childbearing…" she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "I mean, what's going on? Is there something we need to know, Elena Hart?"
Heads turned.
Students slowed their steps.
A few stopped altogether.
Elena's face flushed deep red. Her throat tightened.
"Marissa, please stop," she said softly, barely above a whisper.
But Marissa wasn't done.
She stepped forward, following Elena as she moved toward the building's entrance.
"Come on, Elena," she pressed, louder now. "You're suddenly the expert on pregnancy? What are you hiding?"
The crowd grew.
Whispers spread.
Elena kept walking, her pace quickening, her shame growing heavier with every step.
Marissa followed her all the way to the gate, her voice rising with each taunt.
Then, just as she reached out to grab Elena's arm—
A heavy slap cracked through the air.
Marissa stumbled back, one hand flying to her cheek.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Luca stood there.
His eyes were cold, jaw clenched, posture rigid.
He reached out and drew Elena closer beside him, his arm protective around her waist.
His gaze didn't waver.
"I gave you a warning the last time we met," he said sharply. "I don't lay my hands on women, but you were doing too much."
Marissa stood frozen, her hand still pressed to her cheek, eyes wide in disbelief.
Luca turned to Elena, his voice softening.
"Are you okay?"
Elena was dumbfounded.
She looked up at him, her lips parted slightly, then gave a small nod.
He turned back to Marissa, who continued to stare, stunned and silent.
"Never again," he said firmly.
Without another word, he led Elena toward the sleek black car waiting by the curb.
The door opened, and they slipped inside.
As the car pulled away, whispers erupted across the campus.
This time, they weren't just about Elena.
They were about Marissa too.
"Did you see that?"
"He slapped her… in public."
"Who exactly is Elena Hart now ?"
The car glided smoothly through the city streets, the silence inside thick with tension.
Elena sat stiffly, her hands folded in her lap, eyes still red from earlier.
She spoke quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Why did you come here today?"
Luca turned his head slightly, his gaze steady.
"I told you to learn from home," he replied. "And you decided to be stubborn."
Elena's jaw tightened.
"I'm not your child or younger sister, Mr. Moretti. It's my life."
Luca let out a short breath, almost amused.
"Funny how you can talk back to me," he said, "but you can't do that to the schoolmate of yours."
Elena glanced at him briefly, then turned her face toward the window, her reflection blurred in the glass.
Luca continued, his tone firmer now.
"You signed a contract, Miss Elena. So I think you should be a listen-and-do. You won't return here till I say so."
Elena didn't respond.
But her silence wasn't submission.
It was the sound of something simmering beneath the surface.