Chapter 3 DELRICO

CHAPTER 3

Camilla Moretti;

"Delrico..." I mumbled softly, but as he walked in, the sound of heavy footsteps followed-the cops.

"Delrico... You're here!" Mrs. Thompson beamed, rushing to embrace her brother. A quick glance from her made it clear this wasn't just a familial reunion. Delrico was more than an ordinary relative.

Delrico... I had crossed paths with him before my marriage to Nikolai. His name brought with it a rush of memories, none of which I had ever wanted to remember. His sharp eyes immediately found mine, his gaze piercing, cold. "Why are the cops here?" His voice was steady, but there was a hidden weight in his words, an underlying meaning that made me shift uneasily under his stare.

The air grew heavy as Delrico's eyes scanned me-intensely, with a flicker of recognition. But what had he seen?

"It's a small matter," Mrs. Thompson chimed in quickly, dismissing the situation with a wave of her hand. "She caused a scene, and we thought it best to handle it before it got out of control."

"A scene?" Delrico's gaze didn't waver from me as he took a step closer. "What exactly did she do?"

"She attacked Nikolai's finance" Mrs. Thompson cried, her hand flying to her chest as though reliving the horror of her fabricated story.

"She's hurt too," he said, his tone dropping lower.

"This isn't necessary, Delrico," Mrs. Thompson began, her tone shifting to nervous.

"I decide what's necessary." He didn't even spare her a glance. Instead, he turned to the officers.

"Take the cuffs off."

"But Mr. Delrico, she-"

"I said, take them off." His voice carried the kind of authority that didn't allow for arguments.

One of the officers stepped forward reluctantly, removing the cold steel from my wrists. The skin there throbbed, raw and red, but I refused to let them see my pain.

Delrico moved toward me again, his hand hovering slightly as though debating whether to touch me. "Are you okay-"

"Don't!" I snapped, slapping his hand away before he could finish the question. My voice was steady, but my chest burned with humiliation and anger. "I don't need your pity."

I straightened, forcing myself to stand tall despite the sharp pain shooting through my leg. My gaze swept the room-Mrs. Thompson's smug expression faltered, the cops looked uncomfortable, and Delrico... he just stared, unreadable as always.

"You'll all regret this," I said, my voice low but deliberate. "Every single one of you."

With as much dignity as I could muster, I dragged myself toward the door. Each step was agony, but I refused to falter.

Once outside, I leaned against a wall, breathing hard as the cool air bit at my skin. My fingers dug into my bag, pulling out the divorce papers I had carried hoping that this wouldn't happen.

For a brief moment, I hesitated, the pen hovering over the line. Then, with a sharp breath, I scrawled my signature, sealing the deal.

This wasn't the end. It was only the beginning.

Sliding the papers back into my bag, I flagged down a cab, my resolve hardening with every passing second.

The cab pulled over at the address I gave him. I handed the driver a few bills, my hands trembling, and stepped out, dragging my aching legs toward the hospital entrance.

The automatic doors slid open, and the smell of antiseptic hit me instantly. The receptionist barely glanced at me before calling for a nurse, her eyes flicking to the blood on my arm.

"Ma'am, follow me," a young nurse said, her voice calm but efficient.

I was led into a small treatment room, where I sank into the chair with relief. My body felt heavier than ever, every ache and sting amplified now that I'd stopped moving.

The nurse worked quickly, cleaning the cuts on my arm and wrapping a bandage around it. But the deeper pain wasn't something a bandage could fix.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her tone soft now.

I opened my mouth, but the words got stuck. Instead, I pressed a hand to my stomach as a sharp pain shot through me. "No... my stomach... it hurts," I finally managed, my voice shaking.

The nurse's expression changed immediately. "Stay here," she said, her voice firm now. "I'm getting a doctor."

Minutes later, a middle-aged man in a white coat hurried into the room. His badge read Dr. Maxwell. He crouched beside me, his hands gentle but firm as he examined my abdomen.

"What kind of pain is it?" he asked.

"Sharp... like stabbing," I said through gritted teeth.

He frowned. "We need to do an ultrasound immediately. Nurse, get the portable scanner."

The room buzzed with movement as the nurse returned with the equipment. The doctor smeared cold gel onto my lower stomach, and the sound of the machine filled the silence.

I stared at the ceiling, my heart pounding. My entire body felt like it was on the edge of something I couldn't explain.

An hour later, I was lying in a private room, the gel still sticky on my skin. Dr. Maxwell returned, his face serious but not panicked.

"You're pregnant," he said gently, his words hanging in the air. I blinked, my mind reeling. Pregnant?

"But there's more," he continued. "It seems like your body was preparing for a miscarriage. We caught it just in time. The baby is safe, but you'll need to take it easy for a while."

"What... what do you mean?" My voice cracked as I spoke.

Dr. Maxwell sat down beside me, his voice steady but kind. "I need you to be honest with me. Did something happen? A fall? Stress?"

I swallowed hard, the memory of the struggle flashing in my mind. "I fell... earlier today," I whispered.

His eyes narrowed slightly. "That explains it. You're lucky you came in quickly. Stress and physical strain can lead to complications, but the baby is stable now."

My hand instinctively moved to my stomach, a mix of emotions flooding through me-fear, confusion, and a strange, unexpected protectiveness.

"I'll prescribe some medication and bed rest," Dr. Maxwell said. "But most importantly, avoid stress at all costs. The next time could be worse."

I nodded numbly, his words sinking in like stones. My life had already been spiraling out of control, and now, this.

As the doctor left, I leaned back against the pillow, staring blankly at the ceiling. A baby.

Not Nikolai's baby, I reminded myself bitterly. But it was mine.

And no matter what, I wasn't going to lose it.