The door clicked shut behind her.
Elena stood in the center of her suite, the silence pressing in like a weighted blanket. Her wrist still throbbed beneath the soft wrap, her heart still fluttered from the dinner that had ended too abruptly.
She walked slowly to the window, pulled the curtains aside, and stared out into the night.
The garden was still.
The stars were faint.
And her world felt… smaller.
She replayed Luca's words in her mind.
"You won't be going back there."
"You'll learn from home."
"Nobody messes with the woman carrying my heir."
She didn't know how to feel.
Part of her was relieved.
No more whispers.
No more Marissa.
No more bruises.
But another part of her felt trapped.
Like her life was being rewritten without her voice.
She sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers brushing the edge of the bandage.
She hadn't asked for this.
She hadn't asked to be protected.
She just wanted to be strong enough to protect herself.
And now… she wasn't sure if she'd ever get the chance.
She lay back slowly, her eyes fixed on the ceiling.
The suite was quiet.
But her thoughts were loud.
A soft knock echoed through the suite.
Elena sat up slowly, her wrist still aching beneath the wrap. She walked to the door and opened it to find Brittany standing there, her expression calm but concerned.
"Elena," she said gently. "Mr. Moretti has sent me to assist you to the clinic. To treat your bruise."
She paused, her eyes scanning Elena's face.
"You never told me about it."
Elena looked down, her voice quiet. "I didn't think it was of that importance. I didn't… I didn't want him to see it."
Brittany stepped closer, her tone soft but firm.
"Elena, it's good that he saw it. You mustn't hide things from him. Or from me."
Elena's eyes lifted slowly.
"We're here if you have any problems," Brittany continued. "It's our duty—more of my duty—to keep you out of harm until the child is born."
Elena nodded, her voice barely audible. "I understand."
She grabbed her coat, wrapped it gently around herself, and followed Brittany out of the suite.
The hallway was quiet.
The night air cool.
And for the first time in days, Elena allowed herself to be led.
Not because she was weak.
But because she was finally ready to be cared for.
The car pulled up to the private clinic nestled within the estate grounds. The building was quiet, softly lit, with only a few staff on duty for late-night care.
Elena stepped out slowly, her coat wrapped tightly around her, her wrist tucked close to her body.
Brittany walked beside her, guiding her through the glass doors and into the reception.
A nurse greeted them with a gentle smile. "Miss Elena, we've been informed. Please, come this way."
They were led into a small treatment room—clean, warm, and softly lit.
Elena sat on the edge of the examination bed, her eyes scanning the sterile counters and quiet machines.
The doctor entered moments later, clipboard in hand.
"Let's take a look," he said kindly.
Elena hesitated, then slowly unwrapped the bandage.
The bruise had deepened—angry purple streaks across her wrist, the skin swollen and tender.
The doctor examined it carefully, his touch gentle.
"No fracture," he said. "But it's a deep contusion. You'll need anti-inflammatory treatment, rest, and compression."
He cleaned the wound, applied a cooling gel, and wrapped it in fresh gauze.
Brittany stood nearby, watching quietly.
When the doctor stepped out to prepare medication, Brittany spoke.
"You should've told me earlier."
Elena looked down. "I didn't want to make it a thing."
"It is a thing," Brittany said softly. "You're not alone in this."
Elena nodded, her voice barely audible. "I know."
The door opened again.
The nurse handed Brittany a small packet of medication and instructions.
They left the clinic together, the night air cool against their skin.
And for the first time that day, Elena's wrist didn't throb quite as much.
The car ride back from the clinic was quiet.
Elena sat in the back seat, her wrist freshly bandaged, her thoughts louder than the hum of the engine. Brittany sat beside her, scrolling through her tablet, occasionally glancing Elena's way.
Outside, the city gave way to winding roads and tall iron gates. The Moretti mansion loomed ahead, bathed in golden light, its windows glowing like eyes in the dusk.
As they stepped inside, the warmth of the interior wrapped around them—velvet walls, polished floors, and the faint scent of lavender lingering in the air.
Brittany led Elena through the grand hallway, past the marble staircase, and into the conservatory—a quiet space tucked at the edge of the mansion, filled with moonlight and the soft trickle of a fountain.
Elena sank into a cushioned bench, her coat still draped around her shoulders. Brittany sat beside her, setting her tablet aside.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Elena broke the silence, her voice low.
"I'm high-key nervous about this whole surrogate thing," she said. "It's my first time experiencing anything like this. I mean… I've never even had sex before."
Brittany turned to her, surprised but gentle.
Elena looked down, her fingers fidgeting. "It's weird. My body's doing something I've never emotionally or physically prepared for. And I don't know how to feel."
Brittany offered a soft smile. "I've never had a child before either. But I can say this—I'm here to assist you till the day you leave this mansion, Elena."
She paused, then added with a playful smirk, "It's my job… or else Mr. Moretti would fire me."
Elena blinked.
Then let out a soft laugh.
Brittany chuckled too, the sound light and genuine.
The conservatory, bathed in moonlight, felt like a safe space.
The laughter faded into a comfortable silence.
Elena leaned back slightly, her body finally relaxing into the cushions, the moonlight casting soft shadows across her face.
Brittany glanced at the time on her tablet, then turned to Elena with a gentle smile.
"You should go and get your night rest," she said softly. "It's been a long day."
Elena nodded, her voice quiet. "Yeah… it really has."
They stood together, the conservatory quiet around them.
Brittany reached out and gave Elena's shoulder a light squeeze. "Goodnight, Elena."
"Goodnight, Brittany," Elena replied, her smile small but sincere.
They parted at the hallway—Brittany heading toward the staff wing, Elena toward her suite.
The mansion was hushed.
And as Elena slipped into her room and closed the door behind her, she felt something she hadn't felt in days.
Safe.