Swallowing my sobs, I gently stroked my belly and whispered, "Oh, sweetheart, you and I are about to fight a tough battle together."
The house was quiet. The soldiers stood at the gate. The water ran behind the closed door. And in the silence, I began to plan.
Dante's phone sat on the dining table, screen facing up, the way it always did. He never bothered to hide it. Not from me.
Did he really think I was that blind? Or did he simply not care enough to wonder?
The sound of water running in the master bathroom echoed through the house. Through the walls of the Moretti estate, everything carried. Every door. Every footstep. Every lie.
With a sigh, I braced one hand against the edge of the table and struggled to my feet, my belly pulling me forward like an anchor. I tried the obvious passwords first. Our wedding date. His birthday. Mine. The anniversary of the ceremony at St. Augustine's, where half the Family had gathered to watch us become something neither of us fully understood. None of them worked. My hands trembled as I entered the date from Cara's ultrasound report.
Success.