The ride back to the mansion felt longer than usual.
Elena sat in the back seat, her head pounding, the light outside too bright, the air too heavy.
By the time they pulled into the driveway, her body felt like it was unraveling.
She stepped out slowly, her heels unsteady beneath her, her breath shallow.
The grand doors opened, and she entered the mansion, the cool air brushing against her skin.
But her eyes were spinning.
Her vision blurred.
She reached for the wall, her fingers grazing the smooth surface as she walked slowly, one step at a time.
Her head throbbed.
Her knees weakened.
She was about to drop to the floor—her body giving in—when a strong arm caught her mid-fall.
She gasped softly, her tired eyes blinking up.
It was Luca.
He didn't say a word.
His jaw was tight, his eyes focused.
He lifted her gently, one arm under her legs, the other supporting her back.
Elena didn't resist.
She couldn't.
She just leaned into him, her head resting against his chest, her breath shallow and uneven.
He carried her through the hallway, up the stairs, and into her suite.
Still silent.
Still steady.
Luca pushed open the door to Elena's suite with his shoulder, careful not to jostle her.
He walked straight to the bed and gently laid her down, her body sinking into the soft sheets.
Elena's eyes fluttered open, her breathing still uneven, her skin pale.
She tried to speak, but only a whisper came out.
Luca leaned over her, brushing a damp strand of hair from her forehead.
Then he stood, pulled out his phone, and dialed quickly.
"Dr. Leoni," he said, his voice low but firm. "I need you at the mansion. Now."
A pause.
"She's not well. She nearly collapsed."
Another pause.
"Ten minutes? Good."
He hung up and turned back to Elena, who was watching him through half-lidded eyes.
He sat beside her, silent again, his presence grounding.
She didn't ask questions.
She didn't need to.
Because in that moment, Luca wasn't Mr. Moretti.
He was just the man who caught her before she fell.
Dr. Leoni arrived swiftly, her presence composed and efficient.
She was led to Elena's suite by one of the staffs.
She stepped into the suite with her medical bag in hand after knocking, nodding once at Luca before moving to the bedside.
Elena lay still, her eyes half-closed, her breathing shallow but steady.
Dr. Leoni placed a gentle hand on Elena's wrist, checking her pulse, then moved to examine her eyes and temperature.
After a few quiet moments, she turned to Luca.
"She needs a lot of rest, Mr. Moretti," she said calmly. "She's stressing out way too much."
Luca's jaw tightened slightly as he looked at Elena, then back at the doctor.
"Does she need anything right now? Like a pill or something…"
Dr. Leoni opened her briefcase, rummaging through neatly labeled compartments.
She pulled out a small white box and handed it to Luca.
"Prenatal Fortex," she said. "It's a prescribed supplement—iron-rich, with B-complex and mild anti-nausea support."
She tapped the label gently.
"She's really weak now. But once she's had something to eat, she should take this dosage. One pill, with water. No more than that today."
Luca nodded, taking the box carefully.
Dr. Leoni glanced back at Elena, her voice softening.
"She'll be fine. But she needs to slow down. Her body's doing a lot right now."
Luca didn't respond immediately.
He just looked at Elena—pale, quiet, vulnerable.
Then he turned to the doctor.
"I'll make sure she rests."
Dr. Leoni closed her briefcase, gave Elena one last glance, then turned to Luca with a composed smile.
"If there's another problem, do not hesitate to call me, Mr. Moretti," she said gently. "She needs guidance… it's her first time, and in a complicated way."
Luca nodded, his expression unreadable.
Dr. Leoni gave a polite nod and left the room, her heels clicking softly down the hallway.
The door closed behind her.
Luca stood still for a moment, the silence pressing in.
He turned to Elena.
She was resting now, her breathing calmer, her body curled slightly under the sheets.
He wanted to go to her.
To kneel beside the bed, brush his hand through her hair.
But he didn't.
She was his surrogate.
Not his partner.
Not his to comfort in ways that blurred the lines.
He walked to the side table, placed the box of Prenatal Fortex down gently, and looked at her one last time.
Then he turned and left the room.
The door closed quietly.
And Elena slept on, unaware of the war he carried in silence.
Hours had passed.
The room was dim now, bathed in the soft amber glow of the setting sun.
Elena stirred beneath the sheets, her fingers rubbing slowly at her temples as she blinked herself awake.
Her body felt heavy, but the headache had dulled to a quiet throb.
Brittany entered with a tray of food—warm, fragrant, and carefully arranged.
She placed it gently on the side table, then turned to Elena with a relieved smile.
"Glad you're awake," she said softly. "You have to eat something, Elena. You've got pills to take too."
Elena sat up slowly, her eyes drifting from Brittany to the tray, then to the small box of Prenatal Fortex.
"How long did I sleep?" she asked, voice groggy. "It feels like evening already."
"It is evening," Brittany replied, folding her arms. "This will be your breakfast, lunch, and dinner—since you didn't eat anything today."
Elena sighed, leaning back against the pillows.
"You should've eaten something before leaving this morning…" Brittany added, her tone gentle but firm.
"I just didn't have much appetite," Elena murmured. "Plus I had an energy drink at the care center."
Brittany raised a brow. "Energy drink doesn't count as food, Elena."
She stepped closer, adjusting the tray.
"Just eat this. And when you're done, take just one pill with water. I'll return later—or a staff member will come up to clear the tray."
Elena nodded slowly, her stomach finally stirring at the scent of the food.
She picked up the fork, her fingers still weak, but her spirit steadier.
And as Brittany turned to leave, Elena whispered, "Thanks."
Brittany smiled over her shoulder. "Always."
Elena had just taken her third bite of grilled chicken when her phone chimed.
She glanced at it, expecting a message from Brittany or maybe a reminder from the care center.
But it was the group chat.
The one from school.
The one she hadn't opened in weeks.
Curiosity got the better of her.
She unlocked the screen.
And there it was.
A message from Marissa:
"That bitch has finally dropped out of school. She can't face anybody anymore… so shameless. She's moving around with rich men, they'd only use and dump her."
Elena froze.
Her fork hovered mid-air.
Another message popped up—this time from a male student:
"Maybe just leave her alone. She's the only person you discuss about in this group. Like she's famous."
Elena's chest tightened.
She wanted to stop reading.
But her eyes kept scrolling.
Another message followed:
"You don't know anything about Elena Hart. She's a pretentious whore. Her boyfriend or whoever slapped Marissa at the school gate… so sad."
Her stomach turned.
The food lost its taste.
She placed the fork down slowly, her fingers trembling.
Her eyes burned, but no tears came.
Just silence.
And the weight of words that weren't true—but still hurt.
She locked the phone and placed it face down on the table.
She didn't want to see it again.
Not tonight.
Not like this.
Elena had barely picked up her fork again when her phone chimed once more.
She hesitated.
Then unlocked it.
A new message had appeared in the group chat.
From an anonymous sender.
No name.
No profile picture.
Just words.
"I know a lot about Elena Hart now. Just a matter of days and I'll post what I know. She's done for. #pretentiouswhore"
Elena's hand went cold.
She dropped her fork, the clink against the plate sounding louder than it should.
Her stomach twisted violently.
Her breath caught.
"What? Who's this person?"
She stared at the screen, her pulse racing.
Her mind began to spin.
She thought back—
To the supermarket.
To the care center.
To the woman with the scarf.
To the countless times she'd seen Zara, just for a moment, before she vanished.
"Could this person be Zara?"
Her heart thudded.
It didn't make sense.
Zara had been kind.
Quiet.
Supportive.
But lately… she'd been everywhere.
And nowhere.
"Was she watching me?"
"Was she behind this?"
Elena stared at the message again, her fingers trembling.
She didn't know who it was.
But she knew one thing—
Someone was circling her life.
And they weren't just watching.
They were waiting.