Elena sat by the wide window, one hand resting protectively on her small belly as the morning sun spilled across the curtains. The quiet inside the mansion was almost haunting. Every breath she took seemed to echo through the marble walls — the walls that now felt like both her safety and her cage.
She had barely slept. Thoughts of her father, of Luciana, of everything that was still unraveling around her, kept her awake. But most of all, she couldn't stop thinking of the life growing inside her — a tiny heartbeat she hadn't yet felt but already loved with everything in her.
Lorenzo entered silently, a cup of warm tea in his hand. He placed it by her side and kissed her forehead softly. "You didn't eat last night," he murmured, his voice full of concern.
"I couldn't," she admitted. "It feels like every time I breathe, something new falls apart."
Lorenzo knelt in front of her, gently placing his hand over hers on her stomach. "You don't have to be strong all the time, Elena. Not for me, not for anyone. Just rest. I'll handle the world outside."
Her eyes softened. "But what if the world outside finds us first?"
He was about to answer when the butler hurried into the room, pale and nervous. "Sir, forgive me, but there's a man here to see you… he says he's Elena's father."
Elena's blood ran cold. Her heart pounded so loudly it drowned out everything else. "My father?"
Lorenzo stood immediately, his face turning to stone. "Bring him in."
Moments later, Vincenzo Russo stepped into the grand living room — a shadow of the powerful man he once was. His eyes were hollow, his suit wrinkled, his soul worn out by guilt.
Elena rose slowly, holding the arm of the chair for balance. Her voice shook. "Why are you here?"
Vincenzo swallowed hard. "To see you… to ask for forgiveness."
She laughed bitterly, the sound cutting through the silence. "Forgiveness? You sold me to a man you barely knew, Father. You didn't care if I lived or died."
He took a shaky step closer. "I cared, Elena. God knows I cared. But Luciana—she threatened me. She said she'd destroy you if I didn't obey."
Lorenzo moved to Elena's side, his presence protective, grounding. "Luciana uses everyone as a weapon," he said coldly. "But you were the one who pulled the trigger, Mr. Russo."
Vincenzo's eyes welled up. "You're right. I've lived with that shame every day since she left. I thought I'd lost you forever, but then I heard… that you were still alive."
Elena's hand instinctively touched her stomach, and Vincenzo's eyes followed the movement. His breath caught. "You're… you're expecting?"
She looked away, nodding slightly. "Yes. And I'm going to make sure this child never grows up in fear the way I did."
Tears spilled down his face. "I don't deserve to see that day… but I came to warn you, Elena. Luciana isn't done. She's contacting people from the south — the ones who still hate the Vitale name. She wants revenge."
Lorenzo's gaze darkened instantly. "How long ago?"
"A few days," Vincenzo said shakily. "She's promised them power. Money. She'll burn down everything you have to get what she wants."
Lorenzo clenched his fists. "If she touches Elena, or my child, I'll—"
"Lorenzo," Elena cut in, her voice trembling but firm. "No. Please. Not in front of our baby."
Her words stopped him like a blade. For a moment, he just stared at her, seeing both her strength and her fragility, and every bit of rage in him melted into love.
He turned back to Vincenzo. "If you truly care about her, then leave. Go somewhere Luciana can't find you. Don't give her another way in."
Vincenzo nodded, wiping his tears. "I will. I just needed to see her… one last time. To tell her I never stopped loving her."
Elena's heart cracked, but she didn't step closer. "You lost that right when you let her destroy our family. But for the sake of my child, I'll forgive you… someday."
Vincenzo looked at her one last time, his lips trembling. "You look like your mother when you're angry," he said softly, a small sad smile crossing his face. "She would have been proud of you."
And then he was gone — leaving behind only the faint echo of guilt and memories that no amount of love could wash away.
Elena sat down again, her hands trembling. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but this time, they weren't only of pain. They were of release.
Lorenzo wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. "You did the right thing," he whispered. "You faced him without hate."
She turned her head slightly, her voice breaking. "It hurts, Lorenzo. It hurts knowing he's still alive, walking around with all that guilt while I carry his mistakes."
He kissed the back of her neck. "Then let me carry the rest. You just take care of yourself… and our baby."
She smiled faintly, placing his hand on her belly again. "Our baby," she repeated softly. "Do you think it'll be a boy or a girl?"
"Either," he murmured. "As long as it has your heart, I'll be the happiest man alive."
Elena chuckled through her tears, leaning into his touch. For the first time in days, she felt peace — fragile, fleeting, but real.
Outside, the rain began to fall gently, tapping the windows like a lullaby. Lorenzo lifted her into his arms effortlessly, carrying her upstairs. "You need rest," he whispered, kissing her temple.
As he laid her down, she grabbed his hand. "Don't leave me tonight."
"I'm not going anywhere, amore mio," he promised, brushing his thumb across her lips. "Not while my whole world is right here."
And as she drifted to sleep, his hand remained on her belly, feeling the faint rhythm of life — the promise of a future worth fighting for.
But deep in his chest, Lorenzo felt it — that familiar tension that came before the storm. Because he knew that even as they slept in peace, Luciana was already moving in the shadows.