The next morning, the island felt smaller.
I moved through the villa like a ghost. I smiled for the children, played with them on the beach, and read stories in a steady voice. But inside, my mind was screaming. Every time I looked at Alexander, fresh grief and fear hit me. He was the father of my children. The man I had given myself to completely. The monster who had murdered my mother to own me.
He watched me all the time now. His eyes followed my every move — soft with love one moment, sharp with suspicion the next.
After lunch, while the children napped, he found me in the garden. I sat on the stone bench, staring at the ocean with one hand on my pregnant belly.
“You haven’t spoken much today,” he said quietly, sitting beside me. His large hand covered mine on my belly. “Talk to me
