The Night My Womb Warned Me

I didn’t sleep a wink.

My son’s voice promised he was safe, but the thought of Cassian with her was a physical knife in my gut.

What if he was wrong? My love for him was an agony.

As the sky began to lighten, I heard an engine. My heart hammered against my ribs—hope and dread all at once. The main door opened, and Cassian walked in.

His jaw was dark with stubble, his suit rumpled. He didn't reek of another woman’s perfume, but of iron and gunpowder.

He was safe. He hadn't been with her.

The relief was so overwhelming, a sob broke from my lips before I could stop it. Tears instantly blurred my vision.

“Arabella!” He crossed the room in a second, his hands gripping my arms. His eyes searched my face, sharp with alarm. “What happened?”

His rough thumb brushed away a tear.

I shook my head, hiding my face against his chest. “Nothing,” I mumbled. “I’m just glad you’re home.”

“Do you want breakfast? I can have Maria make something.”

Cassian waved a tired hand. “Business complications.” His voice was gravelly. “I need a shower. Then I’m gone again.”

I nodded obediently. “Okay.”

I helped him out of his bloodstained jacket and carefully hung it up.

Cassian gave me a complicated look. “Arabella…”

“Yes?”

“Never mind. It’s nothing.” He shook his head and walked toward the bathroom.

I just stood there, feeling useless, not sure what to do.

Twenty minutes later, the bathroom door opened.

Cassian came out, a black towel around his waist, water dripping down the scars on his chest.

Even after all this time, my heart skipped a beat and I could feel my face flush.

“Do… do you need me to pack anything?” I stammered.

“No,” he said, drying his hair.

He paused, his tone softening slightly. “If this goes well, the Gallo family’s business on the Great Lakes… it will all be ours.”

I knew he was trying to reassure me.

But it also meant he still thought I was planning to run out on him.

A bitter taste filled my mouth.

“I understand,” I said quietly. “I’m going back to the room to rest. You handle your business.”

I turned to flee, but his voice stopped me. “Arabella.”

“Yes?”

“Be careful. It’s not safe out there the next few days.”

I nodded and practically fled back to the bedroom.

I’d just laid down when Cassian pushed the door open.

He needed to change.

I feigned sleep, my eyes slitted, watching him from beneath my lashes.

He dropped the towel, revealing that perfect body.

I scanned every inch of him, confirming there were no suspicious marks, and quietly let out a breath.

Cassian pulled on his tailored pants. Just as he was about to put on a shirt, he turned and looked at me.

He looked a little awkward. “No time today,” he said, his voice dropping low. “When I get back… we’ll make time.”

The implication was so obvious it made me blush.

I remembered how I’d been all over him lately, and snapped out of embarrassment.

“That’s not what I was thinking at all!”

I dove under the covers.

A low, rumbling chuckle escaped his lips. The sound vibrated right through me.

A moment later, he walked over, pulled back the covers, and kissed my forehead.

“Such a big bed,” he murmured. “A shame for you to sleep in it alone.”

I shot him a glare. “Pervert.”

The smile on his face grew wider.

But then his expression turned serious again. He spoke softly.

“Take care of yourself. I’ve posted men everywhere. They’ll protect you. Call Vito if you need anything.”

His concern warmed my heart. I nodded obediently.

“Okay. I’ll be careful.”

Cassian gave me one last, deep look, then turned and left.

I only poked my head out from under the covers when I heard the car drive away.

[See, Mom? Dad still cares about you,] my son’s voice said.

[But you have to watch out for Oriana. She’s not done yet.]

I knew he was right.

Cassian’s mood had improved, but I wasn’t letting my guard down.

Oriana wasn’t the type to give up easily.

Cassian was often away on business, but this trip felt different. It was torture.

He’d told me to call Vito with any problems, but I knew what this “trip” was. It was war. I wouldn’t distract them. Instead, every night, he sent a short, one-word text: “Safe.”

It wasn’t exactly romantic, but it was something. The ice was breaking.

I was happy.

On the morning he was due back, I finally saw them. Two solid pink lines.

I was so excited I told my son, “Mommy can finally prove you’re here! Just wait, your father is going to be so happy.”

But he didn’t get home until after two in the morning. I had a charity luncheon the next day and needed my beauty sleep, so I went to bed.

I’m a light sleeper, I told myself. I’ll hear him come in.

I didn’t. I slept right through until my alarm.

The space next to me was empty. I checked the study. Also empty.

Confused, I walked into the living room and saw him. He was sitting on the sofa, his face a stone mask.

He was clearly in a bad mood. I thought the war had gone badly and was about to try and comfort him when he spoke first.

“I had the lawyers draw up the divorce papers. Take a look and see if there’s anything you want to add.”

The world went silent, except for the blood roaring in my ears.