Page 87 of Second Chance Daddy
I remember my hands trembled so badly, holding the plastic stick with its two pink lines. Clear as a death sentence.
I stared at it so long that the edges of my vision blurred.
Pregnant.
I crumpled onto the grimy bathroom floor.
The test result had been a cosmic middle finger to everything I thought I had under control.
Dante was gone. Ghosted like it was his passion project. And me? I was stuck. Scared. Wrecked. Barely holding my spine upright.
I could’ve told him.
Could’ve called Tina, gotten a number, tracked him down, and screamed the truth through a phone line.
But I didn’t.
My pride? That nasty, sharp thing I’ve been feeding my whole life? It got in the way. It whispered he didn’t deserve to know. That I could protect Aria better alone.
And something in me—that broken piece Gino had spent years grinding under his heel—couldn’t bear the thought of begging Dante to come back for a baby he never asked for.
And I lied. To Gino. To myself. To everyone.
He believed me. Or pretended to. The timing was close enough if you didn’t look too hard. And Gino never looked too hard at anything that didn’t serve him.
The divorce still went through. The protective order held. But he hovered at the edges, sending gifts for “his” child, making casual threats wrapped in concern.
I built my bakery. Built a life. Built walls.
All on a foundation of sand.
And now… my baby suffers for it.
“I could’ve reached Dante through you,” I admit. “But I was too proud. And now my daughter’s paying for my mistakes.”
“Cass—” Tina starts, but I cut her off.
“No. This is my fault. I lied to a violent man about a child that wasn’t his. I put her in danger every single day she breathed.”
“Hey.” She gets up, grabs my wrist, and squeezes it tight. “Don’t go there. You survived. You did what you had to do. This isn’t helping you right now.”
She’s right. But the truth still sits like acid in my gut.
I collapse onto the couch, legs finally giving out. “I don’t know how to wait while my baby’s out there with that monster. God, Tina. If Dante had known… he would’ve treated Aria right from the start.
Tina sits beside me, rubbing soothing patterns down my back. “One breath at a time.”
Minutes crawl by like years. My phone remains silent. The grandfather clock in the hallway ticks so loud I want to smash it.
“It’s getting dark,” I say, voice hollow.
Tina crosses to the window. “They should’ve been back by now.”
The worry she’s been hiding all day creeps into her voice. It lands like a stone in my stomach.
“Call him,” I beg. “Please.”
The phone rings. And rings. And rings.
