Shadows from the past
1433 Words
The photo slipped from my fingers and fluttered to the floor like a dead leaf.
I stared at it — the image of my son, just two days old, asleep in the bassinet wrapped in the blue blanket Nia gave us. A tiny hand curled against his cheek, soft lips parted in a dream.
And yet… someone had been watching.
Had taken this.
Without us knowing.
Without permission.
I turned the photo over again, hoping I’d imagined it. But the message was still there.
> “Congratulations. He has your eyes.
– E.”
Elijah.
My ex-fiancé.
The man I thought I’d left behind on a wedding day gone wrong. The man who disappeared after his lies fell apart and his smear campaign against me was exposed.
Apparently, he hadn’t disappeared.
He was watching.
And now, he knew about my baby.
---
Xander stood behind me, silent. He hadn’t touched the photo. He didn’t need to. The rage on his face said everything.
His jaw ticked. His fists clenched.
Then he pulled out his phone and walked straight into his private study, shutting the door with a quiet but final click.
I stood there for a moment, frozen.
Then I looked at my baby.
Elijah James was asleep in my arms, blissfully unaware of the storm gathering outside the walls of our world. His tiny chest rose and fell against mine, soft breaths like whispers.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
Not again.
Not ever.
---
Thirty minutes later, I knocked on the door to the study.
Xander’s voice was low, clipped. “Come in.”
When I opened the door, I saw him pacing. His phone was on speaker, a male voice crackling through the line.
“…facial recognition confirms it’s him. The timestamp matches security footage from the hospital lobby. He was there the day your son was born.”
I sucked in a breath.
Xander’s voice was ice. “Why didn’t we know?”
“We didn’t catch it until now,” the investigator admitted. “He used a fake ID. Wore a hat and mask. But someone tipped us off — an anonymous text sent the photo directly to our alert system.”
“Then find him,” Xander snapped. “I want every street camera, every ATM, every license plate between that hospital and Heathrow checked.”
“Yes, sir.”
The line went dead.
Xander turned to me, and for the first time in weeks, he looked scared.
“Alessia, we need to increase security. You, Elijah, Nia—everyone close to us.”
“Do you think he’s trying to take the baby?” I asked, clutching Elijah tighter.
“I don’t know.” His voice cracked. “But I’m not taking any chances.”
---
By the next morning, everything had changed.
Two armed guards were posted at the front and rear entrances of the townhouse. The penthouse was locked down with biometric security, panic codes, and reinforced glass.
Xander refused to leave my side.
Nia showed up that afternoon, all fire and fury.
“I swear to God, if that creep comes near my nephew, I’ll break his legs myself,” she spat, hugging me fiercely.
“He’s sick, Nia,” I said, my voice shaking. “I don’t know what he wants… attention? Revenge? Maybe he just wants to scare us.”
“Well, he’s messing with the wrong family now,” she muttered.
We sat on the couch, sipping cold coffee, baby monitors buzzing beside us.
“Do you think he blames you?” she asked softly. “For everything?”
I shook my head. “I think he blames the world. And right now, I’m the piece of it that got away.”
---
Two nights later, everything came to a head.
We had just put Elijah down for his nap when the power flickered.
Then went out.
The entire townhouse plunged into darkness.
I froze.
“Xander?” I called.
“I’m here,” he said immediately, stepping into the room, his silhouette tall in the dim emergency lighting that kicked in seconds later.
He pulled me close, eyes scanning the walls like a soldier.
“Backup generator should’ve kicked in. Something’s wrong.”
Suddenly, one of the guards burst in. “Sir. Someone breached the back gate. We’ve locked down the exits, but—”
A crash echoed from the lower floor.
My blood turned to ice.
“Get Alessia and the baby to the safe room,” Xander ordered.
The guard nodded.
“No,” I protested. “I’m not leaving you!”
“You have to,” Xander said, cupping my face. “Please. Just this once—trust me with this.”
Tears burned my eyes, but I nodded.
I followed the guard down the hall to the nursery. I scooped Elijah from his crib, wrapping him in a blanket and clutching him to my chest.
The safe room was hidden behind the walk-in wardrobe. Steel door. Panic code. Monitors inside.
I stepped in. The door sealed behind us with a hiss.
And then I waited.
---
The next thirty minutes were a blur of fear and silence. Elijah slept in my arms, unaware of the rising dread in my chest.
Then a voice crackled through the monitor.
Xander.
“It’s done. He’s gone.”
I exhaled so hard I nearly collapsed.
The door opened moments later, and Xander stepped in. His shirt was torn at the shoulder, a shallow cut on his cheek.
“What happened?” I gasped.
“He tried to run. He didn’t get far.” His voice was flat. “I wanted to kill him. But I didn’t.”
“He’s alive?”
Xander nodded. “And in police custody. He’ll be charged with trespassing, attempted break-in, and endangering a minor.”
I clutched his shirt. “It’s over?”
He wrapped both arms around me.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “It’s over.”
---
Except it wasn’t.
Because trauma doesn’t fade overnight.
Even after Elijah was safe. Even after Elijah Senior was behind bars. Even after our lives went back to normal.
I still flinched when the lights flickered.
I still jumped at knocks on the door.
But Xander never let me fall.
He took me to therapy. Held my hand. Slept with one eye open. Sat beside me at every court hearing.
And he never said “I told you so.”
He just stayed.
---
Three months later, we took Elijah back to Tuscany.
The sky was just as blue.
The vineyards just as sweet.
And this time, we stayed longer.
No headlines. No phones. Just us.
And Nia, who flew in for the weekend with a new boyfriend — a sweet, nerdy tech genius who worshipped her like a queen.
“This is what healing looks like,” she told me one night as we watched the sun dip below the hills.
I nodded. “It feels like a second chance.”
---
That night, after Elijah had gone down, I joined Xander on the balcony.
He was watching the stars.
I slipped into his lap, curling into his arms.
“We made it,” I whispered.
“We did,” he said, kissing my temple. “Barely.”
I tilted my head. “Would you do it again?”
“In a heartbeat.”
Even with the pain?
“Even with the chaos?”
He smiled against my skin. “Alessia… you were the chaos.”
I smacked his arm.
“Hey!”
“I mean it in a good way,” he laughed. “You turned my world upside down. You made me feel. You gave me more than any merger ever could.”
I quieted, my heart full.
Then I whispered, “Let’s make another one.”
He froze.
“What?”
I smiled. “Another baby.”
His eyes widened. “Now?”
“Not now, dummy. But soon.”
He grinned like a boy. “God, I love you.”
“I know,” I said, kissing him.
---
Six Months Later
Baby number two was on the way.
Elijah was walking. Talking. Stealing hearts.
Nia was launching her own nonprofit.
And Xander?
He was still my husband. Still my storm. Still the man who held my hand when it trembled and never let me forget what love was supposed to feel like.
And me?
I was no longer just his bride.
I was his partner.
His equal.
His forever.
- Writer
