Chapter 4 - “YOU DON’T GET TO CALL THIS LOVE”
Celeste agreed to federal protection under one condition.
No one told Vincenzo.
Daniel hated the condition.
Ruth loved it.
“Good,” she said. “Let him suffer.”
“Mom.”
“What? I’m old, not diplomatic.”
Celeste almost smiled.
Daniel relocated them to a protected house outside Santa Fe.
For eleven days, nothing happened.
For eleven days, Vincenzo searched.
And for eleven days, Celeste learned what silence felt like when it was no longer punishment.
She slept.
She ate.
She walked every morning beneath a huge blue sky.
At thirteen weeks, she heard the baby’s heartbeat again.
Daniel arranged a private appointment under another name.
The sound filled the examination room.
Fast.
Steady.
Alive.
Celeste cried.
This time, she let herself.
That afternoon she bought a small yellow blanket.
It was the first thing she purchased for the baby.
She did not know whether she was having a boy or girl.
Yellow felt like possibility.
Back in Chicago, possibility was disappearing.
Rinaldi attacked two Duca warehouses in forty-eight hours.
Vincenzo retaliated financially instead of violently.
He froze accounts.
Destroyed contracts.
Turned three Rinaldi allies.
But something had changed.
His men noticed.
Vincenzo no longer behaved like a man protecting an empire.
He behaved like a man trying to end a war before it reached someone he loved.
Then Daniel made a mistake.
He used an old Justice Department contact to verify whether a clinic employee in Chicago had accessed Celeste’s medical records.
The inquiry touched a system monitored by one of Enzo’s contacts.
Within six hours, Vincenzo knew.
Santa Fe.
He arrived alone.
Celeste was returning from her morning walk when she saw him beside the road.
She stopped.
Fourteen days had passed.
He looked different.
Not dramatically.
Vincenzo Duca was still Vincenzo Duca.
Charcoal coat.
Dark hair.
Controlled posture.
But exhaustion had carved shadows beneath his eyes.
For several seconds neither moved.
Then his gaze dropped.
To her stomach.
Nothing showed beneath her sweater yet.
Still, he stared.
“Celeste.”
Her heart betrayed her by recognizing his voice before her mind could defend itself.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“I know.”
That answer surprised her.
He did not approach.
“I needed to see that you were alive.”
“You’ve seen it.”
She turned.
“Celeste.”
She stopped.
“I’m sorry.”
Three words.
Four years of marriage.
One destroyed home.
A child he had not known existed.
Three words.
She faced him.
“For what?”
Vincenzo’s jaw tightened.
“All of it.”
“No. Name it.”
He was silent.
“Name what you’re sorry for.”
“For bringing Valentina home.”
“And?”
“For betraying you.”
“And?”
His eyes lowered.
“For making you feel alone while you were married to me.”
That one hurt.
Because it was true.
Celeste folded her arms.
“Did you love her?”
“No.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Her voice finally broke.
“You don’t get to destroy somebody over a woman you didn’t even love and then act like the absence of love makes the betrayal smaller.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying that.”
She wiped a tear angrily.
“You knew I was unhappy.”
“Yes.”
“You knew we were disappearing.”
“Yes.”
“And instead of asking why, you found someone easier.”
Vincenzo absorbed every word.
He did not defend himself.
That almost made it worse.
“I saw you,” Celeste whispered. “Under our chandelier. I watched you touch her face the way you used to touch mine.”
His eyes closed briefly.
“And I had spent three weeks carrying your child, trying to find the courage to tell you.”
Vincenzo looked shattered.
Good, some small wounded part of her thought.
Let him be.
“I would have wanted the baby.”
Celeste stared at him.
“That sentence is exactly why I left.”
He frowned.
“You would have wanted the baby.”
She touched her stomach.
“What about me?”
Silence.
“What did you want from me, Vincenzo? A wife who waited upstairs? A woman who smiled at dinners? Someone who understood every secret but never had needs inconvenient enough to interrupt your life?”
“I wanted you.”
“No.”
Her voice softened.
“You wanted access to me.”
That landed harder than shouting could have.
“You don’t get to call possession love.”
Vincenzo stepped backward as though she had physically struck him.
A black SUV appeared at the far end of the road.
Daniel.
Celeste saw it.
So did Vincenzo.
Daniel exited.
“Get away from her.”
Vincenzo’s expression became dangerous automatically.
Then Celeste said one word.
“Don’t.”
Vincenzo stopped.
She noticed.
For once, he obeyed her boundary immediately.
Daniel came beside Celeste.
“You need to leave, Duca.”
Vincenzo looked at Celeste.
“Is he protecting you?”
“Yes.”
“Do you trust him?”
“Yes.”
The answer hurt him.
She saw it.
“Then I’ll go.”
Daniel looked genuinely surprised.
Vincenzo reached into his coat slowly.
Daniel’s hand moved toward his weapon.
Vincenzo removed a phone and placed it on a stone wall.
“Clean device. One number. Mine.”
Celeste did not take it.
“If you ever need anything—”
“I needed you four months ago.”
He went silent.
Then nodded.
“You’re right.”
He walked away.
Celeste watched until his car disappeared.
Only then did she realize she was shaking.
Daniel picked up the phone.
“Want me to destroy it?”
Celeste looked at the black screen.
“No.”
Daniel raised an eyebrow.
“I didn’t say I’d call him.”
That evening, the phone rang.
Once.
Celeste stared.
It stopped.
A message appeared.
I won’t contact you again unless you ask me to. Rinaldi knows about the pregnancy. I’m ending that threat. You don’t owe me anything.
Celeste read it three times.
Then another message appeared.
Not from Vincenzo.
From an unknown number.
A photograph loaded.
Daniel leaving the protected house.
Underneath it:
Federal protection won’t save your child.
Celeste’s blood went cold.
May you like
Because the photograph had been taken less than ten minutes earlier.
From somewhere directly outside.
