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She took my hand and laid it on her stomach, a big smile on her face. “It’s okay to be scared, Damian. I am, too.”
Luca moved to the end of the table, his unwavering gaze aimed at Alex. We waited in silence as Dr. Ferguson lifted Alex’s shirt and rubbed a clear gel onto her stomach. I heard the heartbeat before I saw the image on the screen.
That was a sound I knew well.
When you take a life, it’s the last thing you remember. The sound of their heart thumping in their chest, the panic setting in once they realize it’s almost over. I felt my heart racing a mile a minute, my entire body shaking. Alex noticed and looked up at me. Thankfully, she said nothing.
Our baby moved on the screen, ever so slightly. It was so tiny. A little Salvatore boy or girl.
“You’re eleven weeks,” Dr. Ferguson confirmed. “The baby looks healthy. But we’ll run some tests since you were concerned about the drugs you’ve taken.”
“I didn’t take them,” Alex corrected. “Someone injected me with them.”
Dr. Ferguson nodded. “I’ll run a few tests, but I think they will come out just fine. The heartbeat sounds good. I don’t see any signs of concern.”
“Can you tell the sex?” Luca asked.
“Not yet.” She gave a light shake of her head. “Between fourteen to eighteen weeks.”
“How soon can you determine the paternity of the baby?” Luca said in a firm tone.
“Right away,” the doctor lilted. “I will draw blood from each of you and conduct a fetal cell analysis. It’s non-invasive and won’t hurt the baby.”
The Founders Society needed to confirm the baby was a Salvatore by blood.
Dr. Ferguson printed out copies of the ultrasound for each of us. I held the image of the baby in my shaky hand, unable to control my racing heart.
Bastian must have sensed my distress because he moved to my side and clutched my shoulder. “You can do this, D.”
Luca didn’t have a shred of faith in me and brought my worst qualities to the surface. While he fed my demons, Bastian tried to keep them at bay.
After the doctor took samples of blood from us, she left the room, promising to send the results.
Alex sat on the bed between Marcello and Bastian. Luca was on his knees in front of her, touching her stomach. I couldn’t stop looking at the picture in my hand.
The baby was real.
“I want to open the paternity results,” Alex said to no one in particular. “We do it together, okay?”
He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed her skin. “I promise, my queen.”
Istalked Alex on the security feeds and didn’t feel an ounce of shame. Because I had to know what she was doing and where she was at all times.
Marcello exited our mother’s studio. He was outside of the room, talking to the guard. After a few minutes alone, Alex dropped her paintbrush on the tarp and rose from the floor. I thought she would go after Marcello since they were so fucking co-dependent.
Instead of following my brother, she walked over to the wall with all of my mother’s paintings. She pressed her palm to the wall and stood there in complete silence, taking in each detail of the piece.
Her lips moved as she leaned closer to the painting that made my mother a star. The Truth About Liars. Alex loved the painting and often quoted my mother.
Her fingers glided across the wall as she strolled down the row of paintings. She stopped in front of my mother’s self portrait and started speaking. I hit a button on the screen to get the audio in the room and turned up the volume.
“You would be so proud of them,” Alex said in a hushed tone. “They’ve come a long way.” She smiled so widely it reached her pale blue eyes. “Luca is so strong and smart, a natural leader. He’s always in control and that makes me feel safe. I like that about him, even though it used to scare me. And Marcello…” A dreamy look washed over her face. “He’s such a good man. The way he takes care of me.” Alex leaned her back against the wall, arms crossed over her chest, turning her head to the side, as if my mother were beside her. “The way he loves me… The way both of them love me.” She hugged her middle and smiled again. “I love them. And I will take care of them for you.”
My lips parted in shock.
Alex spoke to my mother, as if she were inside the painting. Was she fucking losing her mind? Had the kidnapping fucked her up more than she was telling us?
I hadn’t expected her to snap back right away. Not after all the trauma she’d endured in her life. But speaking to a painting of a dead woman was definitely not sane.
