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He studies me for another moment before finally nodding.

I hesitate before asking, “What happens now? Did they find the woman who attacked me?”

“Yes. But she’s already dead. It wasn’t my men who did it.”

“So how are you going to find out who was behind it?”

“We’ll find them.” His voice turns cold. “Whoever is behind this can’t hide forever. I'm already working on it.”

After breakfast, the doctor arrives and begins checking me over. He asks about headaches, dizziness, nausea, weakness, and whether I’m experiencing any unusual symptoms. I answer each question while Roman stands nearby.

Then his phone rings. He glances at the screen before stepping away. “Excuse me. I need to take this.”

Only the doctor and I are left on the balcony. Looking down at the report in his hands, he continues to update me on the situation.

“Most of your results are good,” he says. “But one of your blood tests came back different.”

I frown. “What is it?”

He gives me a small smile. “You’re pregnant.”

For a second, I don’t understand the words. Then they sink in. “Pregnant?”

“Yes.”

My hand instinctively moves to my stomach. I’m pregnant. A baby. Our baby.

My eyes sting as a rush of emotions hits me all at once. Shock. Happiness. Fear. Wonder. I don’t even know what to feel first.

“When?”

“Based on the results and the estimated gestational age, conception most likely occurred around last month.”

I stare at him. Our wedding night. A smile slowly spreads across my face. “Could you please not tell Roman yet?”

The doctor looks surprised. “Why? You want to tell him yourself?”

I nod eagerly. “Yes.”

The doctor smiles. “My lips are sealed.”

“Thank you.”

After he leaves, I sit there with one hand resting over my stomach, unable to stop smiling. I’m carrying Roman’s baby. As luck would have it, Audrey and Roman have birthdays very close to each other, both next month. I can share the good news with them on their birthdays.

My baby.

The door opens, and Roman walks back into the room.

“I’m sorry,” he says, coming toward me. “I have to go to the office.”

My smile falters slightly.

“But I’ll be back for dinner,” he adds. “If you need anything, call me. And you’re not leaving the house for the next few days.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Am I under house arrest?”

“No.” His mouth twitches. “The doctor said you need rest. So you’re going to rest.”