Prologue
Five years ago
“Oh my God.”
The words slipped out before Emilia could stop them. Her knees wobbled as she sank to the edge of the bathtub, staring at the test in her hand.
Two lines.
Her fingers trembled. She blinked once. Then again. But the result didn’t change.
Pregnant.
She didn’t cry. Didn’t move. Just sat there in the pale light, barely breathing, as the weight of it settled in her chest.
Dominic.
Her heart lurched.
She loved him. Fiercely. But this wasn’t part of the plan. And that scared her.
Not because he’d run. He wasn’t the kind of man who disappeared when things got real. No Dominic was steady. Protective. The kind of man who made you feel like the world could fall apart and he’d hold it up for you.
But still…
She pressed a hand to her belly.
What if this wasn’t something he was ready for? What if this changed everything?
They hadn’t talked about kids. Hell, they hadn’t even figured out what this was what they were. Not really.
She could not even remember when she and Dominic were not attached to each other. They had just translated from being friends to lovers but she had known Dominic almost all her life.
Not when his world was still so tightly wound around his family.
And hers was still reeling from loss.
Her father had only been gone three months. It still didn’t feel real. Some mornings she reached for her phone to call him before remembering.
He’d worked his whole life to build something that lasted—a clean, white house with a wraparound porch, a full garage, and a library she loved more than her bedroom. He left her comfort. Stability. And love the kind that showed up in early mornings and grease-stained shirts and every “You can do anything” speech he ever gave.
She missed him more now than ever.
She’d grown up safe. Not rich, but proud. And maybe that’s why Dominic’s world had always felt… different.
His family wasn’t warm. They were powerful. The kind of people who smiled like politicians and made you feel small without ever raising their voices.
They’d known her for years. Since childhood. She and Dominic had grown up in the same circles, played in the same backyards. But still, as they got older, it became clear she didn’t belong the way he did.
His mother’s polite glances. His father’s unreadable expressions.
No one ever said it out loud. They didn’t have to.
And Dominic… he never pushed. Never asked her to confront them but rather he trird sheilding her from them.
She reached for her phone. Tasha’s name sat at the top of her screen. Her thumb hovered. But she didn’t press it.
Dominic should be the first to know.
They were supposed to meet later, anyway. He hadn’t even wanted her to leave that morning.
“You can move into the other room, i don't want you to come and go ,” he’d murmured against her neck, arms wrapped tight around her waist.
"I'm the only family, you have now'' he added as he kissed her on her forehead
He didn’t get it. Not really. Sometimes she just needed air.
Since her father’s death, Dominic had been her anchor. But part of her still felt like she was drifting.
The city moved around her in a blur as she rode the elevator up to his penthouse.
She didn’t knock.
She never had to.
But as she stepped inside, she heard his voice.
He was on the phone.
“She’s just been going through a lot,” he said, his tone calm, even. “Her dad passed recently. I’m just trying to be there for her.”
Emilia froze.
“I know what people are saying,” he went on, quieter now. “But it’s not serious. We’ve known ourselves forever. She’s just… she’s not looking for anything like that.”
The words sank like stones in her chest.
“She doesn’t need all the pressure. She’s not asking for anything.”
He paused.
“Just don’t bring it up to Mom, alright? Don't turn it into something bigger than it is. Emilia’s not trying to make a statement. She’s not trying to be part of us.”
Part of us.
That was all, she always wanted to be. To be part of him.
She stepped back from the door.
Not fast.
Not loud.
Just one silent movement at a time like if she made no sound, maybe it wouldn’t hurt.
But it did.
Because this wasn’t some misunderstanding.
She knew his voice. She knew when he was performing calm, when he was speaking carefully.
He wasn’t being cruel.
He was being strategic.
Trying to protect her or what, she was not sure anymore… by pretending she didn’t matter.
She left without a word.
That night, she sat on the floor of her apartment, knees to her chest, the test on the table beside her.
The photo of her father leaned against her half-packed bag. Her eyes stung, but no tears came.
Dominic hadn’t said anything she didn’t already fear.
He had just confirmed it.
She’d always known how his world worked.
She just never thought he’d let it swallow her too.
Her fingers drifted to her belly.
She didn’t cry.
She didn’t speak.
She just sat in the quiet, holding the weight of what she knew and what he didn’t.
It was enough.
