The last few months had been a beautiful, terrifying blur.
Ever since Dante's cell was found empty—nothing left but shattered chains and a haunting silence—fear had become my shadow. But Kieran… he had become my light. He had tightened the security around the mansion until it was an impenetrable fortress, promising me every night against my skin that no one would ever take me from him again. We had found a strange, desperate peace in each other's arms.
I was heading toward Adrien's nursery, when the world suddenly tilted.
A sharp, acidic heat rose from my stomach, hitting the back of my throat. I barely made it to the guest bathroom, collapsing onto the floor as I retched into the porcelain bowl. My chest heaved, my eyes watering as I fought the waves of nausea.
When it passed, I stood up with shaky legs, rinsed my mouth and stared at my reflection.
What is wrong with me? Maybe it was the spicy pasta from last night, or maybe the stress of Dante's escape was finally manifesting in my body.
Adrien could wait a moment. I needed water.
I headed downstairs to the kitchen.
I was halfway across the foyer when the door opened.
A woman stepped inside. trailing a small, expensive leather suitcase behind her. She stopped, removing her dark sunglasses to reveal eyes that made my heart stop. Hazel.
Hauntingly familiar.
She was… stunning.
Long black hair fell smoothly down her back. Her skin was warm, luminous. But it was her eyes that stopped me cold.
"Who are you?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended. I straightened my spine, pulling my silk robe tighter. I was the mistress of this house now, and I wasn't about to let a beautiful stranger intimidate me.
The woman arched a perfectly groomed brow, looking me up and down. "I should be asking you that question, cara. Who are you?"
We stared at each other.
A silent standoff. Two women measuring territory neither was willing to surrender.
"Aurielle?"
Kieran's voice boomed from the top of the stairs. I looked up, expecting to see his usual mask of indifference, but his expression was one of genuine shock.
"Giana?" he breathed.
"Oh my God, Kieran!" The woman dropped her luggage with a loud thud and sprinted toward the stairs.
I watched, frozen, as she threw her arms around his neck. Kieran—the man who hated being touched by anyone but me—actually hugged her back. A hot, bitter flame of jealousy licked at my heart. My mind raced through a thousand dark possibilities. An ex-wife? A secret lover? Is this the woman he wanted a daughter with?
Kieran detached himself, his hand resting on her shoulder as they walked down to meet me. He saw the fire in my eyes and the way I was trembling.
"Aurielle, breathe," he said softly, reaching out to tuck a stray hair behind my ear. "Meet Giana. She's... family."
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Family?"
"Who is she, big brother?" Giana asked, her hazel eyes dancing with curiosity.
Kieran's gaze turned heavy and possessive as it landed on me. "She's my wife, Giana. Meet Aurielle."
Giana's jaw literally dropped. She let out a soft gasp, her face lighting up with a radiant, jovial glow I hadn't seen on a D'Angelo before. "Oh my God! She is absolutely stunning! Kieran, you finally did something right for once in your life. You have incredible eyes!"
She stepped forward, and before I could offer a polite handshake, she pulled me into a tight, fragrant hug.
"I'm so sorry for being so rude," she laughed, pulling back but keeping her hands on my shoulders. "I didn't mean to barge in and scare the life out of you. I'm Giana. We're cousins, technically, but we grew up like siblings." Her smile faltered for just a second, a shadow passing over her hazel eyes. "Well... I'm Dante's sister."
I gasped, my blood turning to ice. I took a sharp step back.
Dante's sister. The sister of the man who had haunted my nightmares and nearly destroyed my life.
I looked at her eyes again—that specific, honeyed hazel. They were the exact match of Dante's left eye. But where Dante's gaze was a fractured nightmare—one freezing, icy blue and one chaotic hazel—Giana's were symmetrical. She had both of the "gold" eyes, filled with warmth instead of the flickering madness that usually stared at me from Dante's mismatched face.
Giana didn't seem to notice my terror; she was already talking a mile a minute about her flight from Rome and how much she'd missed the family estate. Kieran caught my eye and gave me a firm, reassuring nod. She isn't him, his eyes promised.
I tried to relax, tried to force a smile, but that familiar, sickening bell rose in my throat again. It was stronger this time, more violent.
"I... I'm sorry," I choked out, not even waiting for a response.
I bolted. I ran past the kitchen, past the startled guards, and dove into the nearest bathroom. I barely made it to the sink before I was sick again. It felt like my very soul was trying to leave my body.
A heavy hand landed on my back, rubbing soothing circles. Kieran was there, his face etched with a worry that bordered on panic. "Aurielle? Talk to me. Are you okay? I'm calling the doctor."
"I'm fine," I whispered, rinsing my face with cold water and leaning back against his chest. "I've just been... really sick this morning. It's the stress, Kieran."
We walked back out into the hallway, where Giana was waiting. She wasn't talking anymore. She was watching me with a strange, intense focus.
As we approached, she didn't look at Kieran. She reached out and gently took my hand. Her fingers were warm as she pressed them against my pulse point, her eyes narrowing as she counted the beats.
She looked at my pale face, then down at my stomach, then back up at my eyes. A slow, knowing smile spread across her lips—a smile that was neither cold nor chaotic, but filled with a secret.
"You are sick because of stress."
I frowned, "what?"
Giana looked at Kieran, then back to me, her grip on my hand tightening affectionately. "I've seen that specific shade of pale on D'Angelo bride's right before the empire grows. You're pregnant, cara."
I looked at Kieran, whose eyes had widened in a way I'd never seen before.
I wasn't sick. I was a mother, all over again.