The day after the hallway confrontation, Isabella remained in her room, claiming a headache. The truth, however, was far worse. She couldn't bring herself to face Karl again, not with her emotions still in knots and the secret growing heavier inside her.
She sat by the window, knees drawn to her chest, staring out at the garden where staff moved like ghosts, pruning rose bushes and sweeping fallen petals. She used to find comfort in the garden, but now even its beauty felt foreign. Her thoughts circled endlessly, chasing fears she couldn't outrun.
How long could she keep this hidden? How long before someone noticed the way she avoided wine at dinner, the way her hands trembled after the slightest scent of perfume or food? She hadn't told a soul, but secrets never stayed secrets for long in this house.
Not with eyes in every corner.
Her hand drifted to her lower abdomen. It was still flat, but something within her was shifting. The nausea had become routine. The fatigue clung to her like a second skin. She had memorized the route from her bed to the bathroom in the dark, her steps silent and practiced.
The mansion felt less like a home and more like a trap. Every knock on her door, every accidental glance from the guards, made her heart skip. She knew Vance was unpredictable, but if he ever found out... she couldn't even finish the thought.
A soft knock interrupted her spiral.
"Come in," she said, her voice hoarse.
Rosa entered gently, carrying a tray. "You've barely eaten. I brought some tea and crackers. Ginger... it might help."
Isabella looked at her with tired eyes. "Thank you," she murmured, taking the cup.
Rosa set the tray down but didn't leave. She sat on the edge of the bed, studying Isabella with motherly concern.
"If something's wrong," she said softly, "you know you can trust me. I won't say a word."
Isabella looked away. "I'm just tired. Really."
Rosa didn't push. "Alright. But don't try to carry everything alone. Secrets rot faster when you keep them buried."
The words lingered in the air after Rosa left.
Isabella sipped the tea slowly, grateful and terrified all at once. Rosa had always been kind, but even kindness could become dangerous if it led to questions Isabella wasn't ready to answer.
Meanwhile, Karl was pacing his room like a caged animal. The confrontation with Isabella had left a mark. She had pulled away, shut the door on whatever fragile thing had started to bloom between them. He had crossed a line, maybe several. But it wasn't just regret that gnawed at him, it was instinct. Something was wrong with her, and he knew it.
He wasn't imagining the paleness of her skin, the way she flinched at the mention of Vance's name, the distance in her eyes. And now, she had locked herself away. A headache, she claimed. He wasn't buying it.
He left his room, trying to clear his mind. But as he walked the hall leading to the east wing, he caught sight of Matteo, the family's longtime security head, speaking to one of the kitchen maids in hushed tones. The woman looked nervous, her hands wringing the hem of her apron. Her eyes flicked toward Karl before darting away.
Karl paused at the end of the corridor, watching the two carefully. Matteo was never one for small talk. If he was asking questions, it meant someone was under suspicion. Or being watched.
The encounter made Karl's chest tighten.
Later that night, the mansion was still. Moonlight painted silver across the marble floors as Karl moved through the darkened halls. He couldn't sleep. His mind refused to rest.
He stopped in front of Isabella's room, his hand hovering near the door. He could knock, say something... anything... but he didn't. He lowered his hand and stepped back.
She needed space. That much was clear. And he had already made things complicated enough.
What he didn't know was that just behind the closed door, Isabella lay curled under the blankets, wide awake. Her eyes traced the ceiling in the dim light. Her stomach churned with more than just sickness. Rosa's concern still echoed in her ears. She wasn't just carrying a child, she was carrying a secret that could destroy everything.
And it wasn't only Vance she feared.
Karl couldn't know. Not yet. Not while his loyalty to his brother was still tangled in obligation. Not while her heart was still unsure if she could ever trust him.
***
Elsewhere in the city, a phone rang.
"Yeah?" a gravelly voice answered.
"She's hiding something," the caller said, voice low and steady. "And I think I know what."
There was a pause. Then, cold and calm, came the reply.
"Handle it quietly."
Back at the mansion, Isabella finally drifted into a restless sleep. She didn't know someone had entered her room earlier that evening while she was showering. Didn't see the quiet search, the careful inspection of her drawers, the stolen bottle of prenatal vitamins now in someone else's hands.
She didn't know her secret was already slipping from her grasp.
And Karl? He stayed awake, staring out his window at the moonlit grounds. A knot had formed in his chest, one he couldn't explain or untangle. But he would figure it out. He had to.
Because something was happening.
And whatever it was... it was coming fast.