Liliana
I woke up feeling sick again. My stomach churned and twisted violently, making me rush to the bathroom just in time, my bare feet slapping against the cold marble floor.
This was the third morning in a row since we'd returned to the manor, and each day seemed worse than the last.
As I splashed cold water on my face with trembling hands, I stared at my reflection in the ornate mirror above the sink. My skin looked pale and waxy, almost translucent in the harsh morning light. My eyes had dark circles under them, deep purple shadows that made me look haunted. My lips were colorless, and my hair hung limp around my shoulders. But I already knew why I looked like death warmed over.
I was pregnant with Gromov's child.
The memory of him telling me at the villa was one of the few thin
