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“Lucy,” I call.
“Lucy. No Lucy. Not Lucy,” she repeats two or three times.
“Giuliana?” I test instead.
She huffs and frowns but doesn’t speak.
I pause. My hands are shaking, and my eyes are filled with tears, and I want nothing more than to throw myself at her and cuddle her.
“It’s me,” I continue. “Alessia.”
She looks at me like a stranger. Her skin is pale, and her blue eyes have sunken into her face. Fingers at her mouth, she bites her nails, watching me cautiously.
My eyes drop to the bassinet. A small doll sits wrapped up in a blanket, its eyes permanently open and lips set in a slight pout that allows the teeth of a pretend bottle to click into place.
“Your baby is beautiful.” I move to touch the doll, but Lucy screeches, and I stumble back.
“Don’t touch my baby. Don’t touch.”
“I’m sorry.” I keep my hands fisted against my chest. “She’s adorable.”
“Yes. But she’s mine,” she rushes out. “And she’s sleeping. She sleeps a lot.”
“Young babies do sleep a lot.”
“Mm.” She nods.
“Can I sit with you?”
“Yes. But it’s dinnertime soon. Dinner is at six, and if you’re late, you don’t get to eat, and if I don’t eat, Grace is not allowed to sleep in my room.”
“Grace?” My voice cracks, but Lucy doesn’t notice.
“The baby.Mybaby,” she clarifies.
I look up at Diego. Pain sits heavy in his eyes. He doesn’t know Lucy, but anyone can see the trauma of what she’s been through.
A man in a suit and tie walks into the room, an air of authority straightening his shoulders. “You shouldn’t be here.”
I stand immediately, my feet storming toward him. “I should shoot you where youfuckingstand,” I grit through my teeth.
“I would advise against it. This facility is filled with cameras.”
I feel Diego’s hand brush against my back. “If you think the threat of a few cameras could protect you, you are sorely mistaken.”
The doctor looks back and forth between Diego and me.
My husband speaks, and when he does, his voice is quiet and calm, a murderous lilt caressing every word in anticipation. “Salvatore Bianchi is on his way with a selection of men. One of which is a family doctor. I suggest you ensure your staff have all of Lucy’s medical files available by the time they arrive. Especially the ones detailing the medication you’ve kept her on to keep her in such a pliant state.”
His face reddens.
“If you contact Giuliana Bianchi”—the doctor looks at Lucy as Diego continues to speak—“therealGiuliana Bianchi, to warn her of our knowledge of what she has created here, I will gut you like the feral fucking pig you are.”
“This woman has been medicated for her own safety,” he spits.
Sia steps close enough that no space exists between her and the pitiful man. She pokes two fingers at his jugular, making him choke. “You’re a real cunt, and I don’t know what my mother is paying you or what she has on you for you to follow through with such an atrocious misuse of your medical license, but none of it will be worth it by the time I finish with you. I will destroy you. I will twist the love your family has for you until they can only look at you with contempt and disgust, making sure you are more alone than you could know. I will bleed your fortune dry until all you have left of value is your saggy little body that no one would pay to fuck. And when you believe it can’t get any worse, I’ll find a way to make you beg for death, but I won’t give you the satisfaction. I’ll trap you in the prison of your own mind while you remember every poor decision you ever made to get yourself to that point, and I will smile through it all.”
“I’m calling the police.”
