A message from him.
[Just one symbol?]
I stared at the screen.
And didn't respond.
Minutes passed.
Then, from outside my door, I heard the sound of footsteps.
Familiar.
Steady.
The enforcer posted in the hallway shifted aside without a word. The door opened.
"Pack up," Dominic said. "We're going to the clinic."
I lowered my eyes and stood quietly, saying nothing as I followed him.
From behind him, Celeste stepped forward.
Her smile was sweet.
Too sweet.
Sickening. It appeared half a beat too quickly, then softened into something rehearsed.
"Serafina," she said softly, her voice laced with false concern, "it must've been so hard for you, giving so much blood for the baby."
She tilted her head slightly, her expression gentle.
"But if the tests don't yield results… we might need your help again."
Her gaze lingered on me, something sharp flickering beneath the softness.
"You're not going to die anyway," she continued lightly. "Serafina, maybe you could even lie on the operating table and let us deconstruct you."
Her smile widened just a fraction.
"For Dominic's child, of course."
"Alright," I said.
Calmly.
Without hesitation.
The word fell from my lips as easily as breathing.
Dominic's expression darkened immediately, his brows drawing together. Something unreadable flashed through his eyes before his voice cut in, cold and firm.
"We'll talk about that later."
For a split second, a flicker of jealousy crossed Celeste's face.
It was gone just as quickly.
The three of us walked out together and got into the car. An enforcer held the door, eyes forward, seeing nothing. Dominic started the engine.
Then he turned on the music.
Soft.
Distant.
But the silence between us was louder than anything else.
It filled every corner of the space, heavy and suffocating, pressing down on all three of us like something that could no longer be ignored.
Celeste smacked Dominic lightly on the chest, her tone playful and teasing, as if nothing in the world could possibly trouble her.
"Why jazz?" she pouted, her brows knitting slightly in mock annoyance. "You know I hate jazz."
The soft melody continued to flow through the car, smooth and low, filling the quiet space.
Dominic reacted immediately, almost instinctively.
"Sorry," he said, reaching forward to adjust the music, his voice carrying a trace of apology that he rarely showed anyone.