Chapter 9 - THE SECRET ELENA NEVER EXPECTED
Elena learned about the pregnancy two hours later.
Not from me.
From Dr. Pierce.
Correct.
She disappeared into the cottage for the rest of the day.
Zoe stayed with her.
I stayed away.
Also correct.
At seven that evening, someone knocked on my office door.
Elena.
Pale again.
Not sick.
Shocked.
I stood.
She noticed.
“You know.”
I did not lie.
“Pierce told me this morning.”
Her expression hardened.
“Why?”
“Emergency medical records came through estate administration.”
“That needs to change.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t say anything.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Wasn’t mine to say.”
She stared at me.
Then something in her face softened.
“Thank you.”
I nodded.
Silence.
She sat.
I waited.
Eventually:
“Zoe’s father.”
I said nothing.
“His name is Michael Trent.”
The irrelevant man.
“He came back.”
“When?”
“Four months ago.”
My jaw tightened.
“Why?”
“Supposedly changed.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
Her laugh was bitter.
“He needed money.”
Of course.
“He knew I had some of my mother’s estate left.”
“How much?”
“Not much.”
“Enough.”
“Yes.”
She looked toward the window.
“I thought maybe Zoe deserved to know him.”
That made sense.
“I let him visit.”
Her voice lowered.
“For two months.”
“And?”
“He was kind to her.”
At first.
“I hated him less.”
Dangerous.
“He said he wanted us again.”
My chest tightened.
I kept my face neutral.
Mostly.
Elena noticed.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“What?”
“Pretend not to care.”
There it was.
I looked at her.
“I care.”
She nodded.
“I slept with him once.”
Jealousy became physical.
A hard pressure beneath my ribs.
I hated it.
Not her.
Myself.
“Okay.”
“Say something else.”
“What would help?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then okay seems efficient.”
She almost laughed.
Then tears filled her eyes.
“The next week he stole twelve thousand dollars from my account.”
My anger redirected instantly.
“Where is he?”
“No.”
I stared.
“No what?”
“That face.”
“What face?”
“The one where Chicago loses a citizen.”
I almost smiled.
“Continue.”
She wiped her eyes.
“I filed charges.”
Good.
“He disappeared.”
Less good.
“I found out later he had another girlfriend in Milwaukee.”
Predictable.
“And now I’m pregnant.”
Her voice broke.
“I’m thirty-two.”
“You say that like a problem.”
“I’m raising one child alone.”
“You are not alone.”
The sentence came too quickly.
Elena went still.
So did I.
Dangerous.
I corrected.
“You have people.”
“Different.”
“Yes.”
She touched her stomach.
“I don’t know what to do.”
There was fear in her voice that bullets never produced.
I sat opposite.
“What do you want?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then you don’t decide tonight.”
She looked up.
Simple.
Right.
Doing it might be hell.
Apparently I had learned.
“What about Zoe?”
“She doesn’t know.”
“Okay.”
“What about Michael?”
“That depends on law and what you want.”
“I don’t want him near us.”
“Then he won’t be.”
She immediately stiffened.
I stopped.
“Sorry.”
She waited.
“We can help you pursue legal protections.”
Better.
She relaxed.
“Yes.”
Silence.
Then she asked:
“Does this change anything?”
My chest tightened.
“Between?”
She gave me a look.
“Yes.”
I could lie.
Say no instantly.
Romantic.
Clean.
False.
So I thought.
“Complicates.”
Her face closed slightly.
I continued.
“Not because you’re pregnant.”
She waited.
“Because I was already having trouble understanding what I wanted.”
“And now?”
“I still want it.”
Her eyes softened.
“But there is another child involved.”
“Yes.”
“And a father who may return.”
“I don’t want him.”
“That matters.”
“He abandoned Zoe.”
“That matters more.”
I leaned back.
“Elena, I am not going to pretend this is nothing.”
“Good.”
“I also won’t make your pregnancy about me.”
Her eyes filled.
“Good.”
We sat quietly.
Then she laughed once.
“What?”
“I spent two years investigating your family.”
“Yes.”
“Then Zoe ruined your shoes.”
“Yes.”
“She uncovered a murder plot.”
“Yes.”
“I nearly died.”
“Yes.”
“You dismantled half a criminal organization.”
“Restructured.”
She stared.
“Do not.”
I smiled.
“And now I’m pregnant by my terrible ex.”
“Your life lacks pacing.”
She laughed.
Actually laughed.
Then cried.
I moved toward her.
Stopped.
“Can I?”
She nodded.
I held her.
Carefully.
No expectation.
Her forehead rested against my chest.
I felt her shoulders shake.
For a long time, I said nothing.
Then:
“You’re allowed to be scared.”
“I know.”
“You’re allowed to keep the baby.”
“I know.”
“You’re allowed not to.”
She tightened slightly.
I continued.
“And none of those choices make you less anything.”
She pulled back.
Her eyes searched mine.
“Do you mean that?”
“Yes.”
“Even if—”
“Yes.”
I did not need details.
Her body.
Her decision.
Elena wiped her face.
“I think I want the baby.”
The sentence sounded like discovery.
Not announcement.
I nodded.
“Okay.”
Fear followed.
“But I can’t do it alone again.”
I looked at her.
“You won’t.”
This time she did not challenge.
Maybe because I did not say I would.
Only not alone.
Friends.
Legal support.
Community.
Me, if she chose.
There were many forms of family.
Over the next month, Elena began work at the legal-aid organization.
She moved into a small apartment eight minutes from the estate.
Zoe hated leaving the cottage until she saw her new bedroom.
Purple walls.
Elena allowed one gift from me.
A security system.
She paid half.
Negotiation.
Pregnancy progressed normally.
Michael remained missing.
Then one afternoon, police found him.
Not in Milwaukee.
Chicago.
He had been arrested after trying to access Elena’s apartment building using a fake maintenance badge.
My hands went cold when I heard.
Elena called before I could act.
“I’m safe.”
“Where are you?”
“Work.”
“Zoe?”
“School.”
“Michael?”
“Custody.”
I closed my eyes.
“Good.”
“He says he wants parental rights.”
There.
Complication.
“Zoe?”
“And the baby.”
“You have an attorney.”
“Yes.”
“Use one.”
“I am.”
I hated how powerless appropriate behavior felt.
Elena continued:
“He claims I kept Zoe from him.”
“You have records.”
“Yes.”
“He abandoned her.”
“Yes.”
“Then?”
“I’m still scared.”
I softened.
“I know.”
“Can you come?”
Everything inside me stopped.
Not send someone.
Not fix.
Come.
“Yes.”
I arrived twenty minutes later.
No convoy.
One car.
I sat beside Elena in her attorney’s office while they discussed restraining orders, custody history, abandonment evidence, theft charges, and paternity procedures.
I said almost nothing.
That was growth.
Afterward, Elena looked at me.
“You were quiet.”
“Painful.”
She smiled.
Then:
“Thank you.”
“For?”
“Being here without taking over.”
I looked at her.
“Hardest thing I’ve done all year.”
She laughed.
Then kissed me.
Not cheek.
Not accidental.
Mouth.
Brief.
Soft.
I froze.
Elena pulled away.
Her eyes widened.
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
I touched her face.
“Do not apologize.”
Then I kissed her.
Carefully.
The world did not explode.
No gunfire.
No betrayal.
No alarms.
Just two people outside a legal-aid office in Chicago.
When we separated, Elena whispered:
“This is complicated.”
“Yes.”
“I’m pregnant.”
“I noticed conceptually.”
She laughed.
“You’re impossible.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t need rescuing.”
“I know.”
“You cannot become the baby’s father because you want me.”
“I know.”
“And Zoe—”
“Sets her own pace.”
Elena stared.
“You have thought about this.”
Every night.
“Yes.”
She took my hand.
“Slow.”
“Very.”
We walked toward the car.
Then my phone buzzed.
Marco.
VICTOR WANTS A DEAL.
I stopped.
Elena saw my face.
“What?”
“Victor.”
Her hand tightened.
“He’s talking?”
“Apparently.”
The man who knew every secret had finally decided survival required confession.
And I knew immediately what I wanted first.
Not Lorenzo.
Not money.
Not my father.
Gabriel Vega.
May you like
Elena’s father deserved to be more than an old crime in a dead man’s file.
He deserved the truth.
