Chapter 3

After the “brothers” finally left, the room went quiet—just monitors ticking like a countdown.

Elena stood by the window, her fingers ice-cold.

She was scared if she opened her mouth, she’d crack. So she made up a reason, stepped out, said she was going to grab meds.

The hallway lights were brutally white.

She hadn’t even gone far when the elevator on the other side dinged open—

and Bianca Caruso basically ran out.

Light dress. Soft colors. The whole “I’m harmless” look. Eyes red like she’d been crying for hours.

Straight for Dante’s room.

Elena stopped.

She told herself: don’t look.

But her body didn’t listen. Like she’d been nailed to the floor.

She drifted back to the door, peered through the half-open crack—

and saw everything.

Bianca threw herself into the man on the bed, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe.

“Brother… are you okay? I’ve wanted to come so bad… but I was scared Elena would be mad. I couldn’t take it anymore…”

Dante didn’t push her off.

He paused—two seconds, like he was weighing the risk—

then lifted his hand and patted her head, slow and gentle, like she was a kid.

“Idiot,” he rasped. But his voice was soft. Too soft. “I’m fine.”

“If you miss me, come see me. If I’m here… who’s gonna dare be mad at you?”

Elena’s chest split open.

Years ago, he’d touched her head like that too.

Told her he was her backbone.

Told her as long as he was there, nobody would make her cry.

Now the person making her cry…

was him.

Bianca sniffled, voice turning even sweeter, clingier—like she’d found her perfect angle.

“I’m sorry… it’s my fault… I shouldn’t have let you rush back that day…”

Elena’s breath caught.

What did that mean?

Dante’s answer came like a dull knife, chopping up her last bit of denial.

“Not your fault,” he said low. “It’s on me…”

“I missed you too much.”

“The second I thought my little princess was waiting for me, I stopped caring about anything else.”

Little princess.

So that speeding crash—

wasn’t him racing back to her.

It was him racing to see his “sister.”

Elena’s fist clenched so hard her nails cut her palm. She tasted blood in her throat.

Then Bianca lifted her face—shy, girlish—

and kissed Dante’s cheek, quick.

And Dante snapped.

He grabbed the back of her neck and deepened it. Harder. Heavier.

Until Bianca was gasping, melting against him.

Elena’s stomach turned.

She took two steps back, trying to get away.

But before she could even turn, Bianca’s excited laugh floated out—

“Wait, I have good news!”

“I’m pregnant. You’re gonna be a dad!”

That sentence hit like thunder.

Pregnant?

Elena remembered—clearly.

Back then she told Dante she was scared of childbirth. Scared of the risk.

He’d held her hand and sworn, no kids.

He even got a vasectomy.

He said, “Just us. I’m not gambling with your life.”

And now he was going to be a father.

With Bianca.

Elena stood at the end of the hall, getting sliced up alive.

She listened to Dante’s voice—joy he couldn’t even hide.

Listened to them talk about “later,” talk about the baby, talk about names.

She stayed there until the tears on her face dried, until her eyes hurt from being open.

Then she straightened her clothes, inhaled, and walked back.

Knock, knock.

“Come in.”

His voice was still messy—panic he hadn’t had time to swallow.

Elena opened the door.

Of course.

They’d already pulled apart a little, like what she saw was just her imagination.

But Bianca’s cheeks were flushed. Her lips were wet and shiny.

Elena acted like she saw nothing.

She walked to the small table by the window, picked up an apple and a knife from the fruit tray.

“The nurse said you can eat something soft today,” she said calmly. “I’ll peel an apple.”

Dante watched the knife in her hand and smiled like they were normal.

“Put it down. Since when do you peel apples? I’m the one who does that at home. You can’t even get the skin off clean.”

Bianca’s eyes instantly turned red.

The hurt came too fast. Too smooth. Like she’d practiced it.

“Must be nice… having a husband this good,” she whispered. “Remembering everything about you. Spoiling you like this.”

She bit her lip, voice shaking with that sour-sweet jealousy.

“If I could have that someday… if I could just be happy… openly… like you…”

Elena’s hand paused. She didn’t look up.

But Dante turned toward Bianca like he’d been pricked.

His eyes softened immediately. Even his voice dropped.

“Bianca…”

She lowered her lashes. Tears rolled down perfectly.

Before he could finish, Bianca stood up quickly, still throwing Elena that sad little look on the way out.

“Brother… Elena… I should go. I won’t bother you two…”

The door shut.

Dante’s gaze stayed on it like his heart had left with her.

Elena set the badly peeled apple back on the tray, her voice quiet.

“Want me to run after her?”

Dante snapped back like he’d been burned. “No. No, don’t.”

He stared at Elena’s side profile. Something about her felt… cold today.

He couldn’t help it.

“Elena… are you upset?”

Elena kept moving, flat as ice.

“No. You’re imagining things.”

For the next few days, she showed up to the hospital on schedule.

Morning soup. Noon laundry. Afternoon rehab.

Perfect wife behavior. No mistakes. No drama.

But Dante got more and more unsettled.

When she handed him soup, she didn’t casually touch his hand anymore.

When she folded clothes, she didn’t talk about the weather.

During rehab, she walked beside him—no longer holding him tight like before.

“Elena, are you exhausted?” he asked. “Do you want a caregiver instead?”

Elena gently moved his hand off her arm.

“No. You focus on healing.”

“But it feels like you’re avoiding me,” he said quietly. “Did I do something wrong? Or did what Bianca said that day bother you?”

Elena looked down. Her fingers tightened on her clothes—then loosened.

“No.” Still no emotion. “I’m just not sleeping well. You’re overthinking it.”

Dante watched her for a long time, trying to find a crack.

Nothing.

He finally exhaled, forcing himself to believe her.

“Then rest more. Don’t wear yourself out.”

When he turned back toward the room, he didn’t see it the last bit of warmth in Elena’s eyes…

go out completely.