"Mrs. Morelli, are you driving right now?"
The nurse's voice crackled faintly through the phone, tight with urgency. I had already reached for my keys.
"Yes," I said. "Tell me."
There was a pause—too long, too deliberate. "Please come in first."
"No," I replied. "You don't get to hold the truth hostage. Not anymore."
Another pause. Then, quieter, "The lab mixed files. Your results were misassigned."
My grip tightened on the steering wheel. "Meaning?"
"Meaning the negative result you received last week was not yours."
The words hit me like a collision. My breath stalled somewhere between disbelief and terror.
"You're saying—"
"I'm saying we need to confirm immediately," she interrupted gently. "Please."
The line went dead.
I sat there for a full minute, the engine idling, the world frozen in place. Then I turned the key and drove.
The clinic smelled the same—clean, sterile, unforgiving. The nurse avoided my eyes as she led me into a private room. The doctor followed soon after, his expression serious but restrained.
"We made a critical error," he said. "One that should never have happened."
"And?" I pressed.
He slid a file across the table. "Your hormone levels were elevated. Significantly. Enough that we double-checked when the discrepancy was flagged."
My pulse thundered in my ears.
"You're pregnant, Mrs. Morelli."
The room tilted.
"No," I whispered. "That's not—"
"We believe you are," he said carefully. "Early. Very early. But the markers are there."
A laugh escaped me, sharp and broken. "After everything?"
"I can't speak to timing," he replied. "Only facts."
I stood abruptly. "I need air."
Outside, the sun felt too bright, too unaware of the earthquake ripping through my chest. Pregnant. The word sounded foreign, dangerous, miraculous.
I thought of Daniel. Of Celeste. Of Linia.
Of how nothing was simple anymore.
My phone buzzed.
Daniel.
I didn't answer.
Instead, I drove past the estate—past the gates that no longer felt like shelter—and turned toward the market road.
"Madam, are you sure?" Maria's voice echoed in my head as I parked near the crowded street.
I was sure of nothing. But my feet moved anyway.
The market buzzed with life—voices overlapping, children darting between stalls, the smell of dust and fruit thick in the air. I scanned the crowd until I saw her.
Linia stood near a vendor, her basket balanced easily on her hip, her posture familiar and controlled. She looked… normal. Like none of the chaos she'd ignited had touched her.
Until she saw me.
Her steps faltered.
"I wasn't expecting you," she said when I approached.
"I know," I replied. "That's why I came."
She studied my face, searching. "Is something wrong?"
"Yes," I said. "Everything."
She exhaled slowly. "Then you shouldn't be here."
"Neither should you," I countered. "But here we are."
She glanced around. "People are watching."
"Let them."
We stood in silence, the noise of the market pressing in. Finally, she spoke.
"You shouldn't trust me."
"I don't," I said. "But I don't trust him either."
Her jaw tightened. "This isn't about him."
"It always is," I said. "Until it isn't."
She shifted the basket to the ground. "Why did you come, madam?"
I met her gaze. "Because I made a choice once. To bring you into my home. And I need to understand whether that was charity… or something else."
Her eyes flickered. "And if it was a mistake?"
"Then I'll own it," I said. "But I won't pretend it didn't matter."
She looked away, her fingers curling into the fabric of her dress. "You don't know what you're inviting back into your life."
"I already live with the consequences," I replied. "I'm asking whether you will."
A long pause.
"You're afraid," she said softly.
"Yes."
She nodded. "Good."
"For what?" I asked.
"Because it means you're awake."
I inhaled slowly. "Come home with me."
The words hung between us.
Her eyes widened. "Why?"
"Because this isn't finished," I said. "And because whatever game you're playing, it started in my house."
She shook her head. "I don't belong there anymore."
"Neither do I," I said. "But we're both tied to it."
A child brushed past us, laughing, unaware. Linia watched him go, something unreadable crossing her face.
"What if I say no?" she asked.
"Then I walk away," I replied. "And whatever comes next happens without me."
She swallowed. "You don't know how dangerous this is."
I thought of the clinic. Of the word pregnant echoing in my mind like a bell.
"I know exactly how dangerous it is," I said. "That's why I'm choosing it."
She stared at me for a long moment. Then, slowly, she picked up her basket.
"Alright," she said. "I'll come."
The drive back was silent.
The estate loomed ahead, familiar and strange. As the gates opened, Linia's posture shifted—subtle, defensive.
Daniel stood near the entrance when we arrived. His face tightened when he saw her.
"What is she doing here?" he demanded.
"I invited her," I said.
"You can't be serious."
"I've never been more so."
Linia stepped out of the car, calm, composed. "Hello again," she said.
Daniel's eyes burned. "You've done enough."
"Not yet," she replied.
I turned to him. "She's staying."
He stared at me. "After everything?"
"Yes," I said. "Because everything is exactly why."
His voice dropped. "You're making a mistake."
I met his gaze steadily. "I made one already. I married you."
The words cut deep. I saw it in his face.
Maria appeared, startled but professional. "Madam?"
"Prepare the guest room," I said. "And cancel my meetings tomorrow."
Daniel stepped closer. "We need to talk."
"No," I said. "You need to wait."
He laughed bitterly. "You're choosing her over me?"
I didn't hesitate. "I'm choosing myself."
His face hardened. "You'll regret this."
Linia glanced at me. "That sounded like a threat."
He didn't deny it.
That night, the house settled into an uneasy quiet. I lay awake, my mind racing, my body humming with something new and terrifying.
Pregnant.
Down the hall, a door creaked softly.
I rose and followed the sound.
Linia stood in the guest room doorway, her back to me, staring at the bed.
"You can still change your mind," she said quietly.
"So can you," I replied.
She turned. "Why are you really doing this?"
I hesitated. Then said it.
"Because I just found out I'm pregnant."
Her eyes widened.
"With his child?" she asked.
"Yes."
The silence stretched.
"That changes everything," she said.
"No," I replied. "It reveals it."
My phone buzzed in my hand.
Unknown number.
One message.
You brought her home. Now choose who survives it.
I looked up.
Linia was watching me.
And for the first time since this began, I wasn't sure which of us had just crossed the most dangerous line.