CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
LILA
Mama was back from Chicago, but the relief I expected to feel never arrived.
I was clocking in eight hours of phone time a day. Researching gadgets for the impaired of hearing. There was a list sitting in the bottom of my nightstand drawer of things I wanted to purchase and try out. I needed to figure out how to order them from the internet without asking for Tiernan’s help. It didn’t look like the vendors accepted cash.
Unfortunately, Tiernan became even more insufferable after I saved his life. He now insisted we have dinner together every evening. He brought delicacies from the Italian deli and spent the entire length of the meal watching me through his emerald eye, chipping at the walls I built around me with his ruthlessly cold exterior without speaking one word.
He let me come and go as I pleased, as long as I was escorted by four bodyguards. Since I was terrified of men, he sent Tierney with me whenever I visited Mama. I was so upset with the latter for hiding the internet from me, I ended up spending most of my time with Tierney, anyway.
I wasn’t sure why my sister-in-law had agreed to spend all this time with me. It neither fit her personality nor her busy social calendar. Yet she seemed happy to be with me. Always babbling away, showing me funny memes on her phone, asking me to show her the stables, the gardens, the pieces I left behind.
Today, I decided to take a break from Long Island. I sat at the living room window, watching the grimy street with my back to the door, when something soft tickled the space between my ear and neck. I squirmed, swatting it away, swinging my gaze up. My husband stood before me. He
was clad in a smart peacoat, a loose gray scarf, and designer wingtips, shiny enough to display one’s reflection.
He was impeccably dressed. Not as lavishly as Camorrista—he had no jewelry, no diamond earrings, expensive watches, and silky shirts—but rather, like a man.
That fickle heart of mine missed a beat at the sight of him.
I had even warmed up to his eye patch.
He twirled a feather between his long fingers, his brow arched in wry amusement. “Head in the clouds, Gealach?”
The subtext stunned me into near-tears. He called my name, got no response, realized I couldn’t hear him, so instead of touching me to alert me of his presence, he used a barrier, a buffer between us to signal he was here.
Now that I thought about it, my husband kept a healthy distance from me unless we were having one of his one-sided arguments.
Something melted inside me, and I offered him a small smile, which he didn’t return. He put the feather back inside a decorative bowl on the credenza. “You have an OB-GYN appointment in thirty minutes. Get dressed.”
My mood soured, giving way to the metallic, cold blade of fear. It was becoming real. The pregnancy. The baby. The marriage. I stilled, refusing to budge.
My mother promised she’d be the one to take me to the appointment. I forgot all about it.
Suppressed it from my memory, most likely.
Why wasn’t she here?
Tiernan waltzed over to the kitchen to grab himself a protein shake and returned, his frosty exterior impenetrable. “Move it. I have a five o’clock appointment downtown.”
I peered around uncertainly. Not communicating with him was painful at this point. I wanted to ask about my mama.
Reading my mind for the millionth time, he sighed. “Your mother asked me to take you. Said she’s under the weather.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. I was waiting to see if he’d touch me.
Hurt me. A messed-up part of me hoped he would. This way, I’d be able to stop the temptation of confiding in him. My traitorous heart would cease cartwheeling every time he entered the room.
“Very well.” He moseyed over to my room, returning a moment later holding my phone. My eyes flared in panic. He couldn’t take away my phone. It was the only thing keeping me afloat.
How on earth did he even find it? I’d been hiding it underneath a loose floorboard ever since he caught me using it.
“Two options. One, you give me trouble, and I break this thing into five pieces.” His fist tightened around the device. “Two, you get dressed and play the obedient wife for an hour, and I link my PayPal to your phone and let you buy all the shit on your little supermarket list at the bottom of your drawer.”
My jaw slacked. When did he see it? Probably during one of my visits to Mama. He’d been snooping around my room. I’d be upset about it if I hadn’t returned the favor. At this point I could give guided tours in his master bedroom.
“Nice handwriting, by the way.” His smile stretched further. “Very
neat.”
My cheeks flushed.
I was starting to see there was no fooling my husband. He knew where I kept my things. What I was thinking. What I was doing. What made me tick. Knew I wasn’t intellectually impaired. That I understood everything he said and did.
And he knew his coldness repulsed and fascinated me in the same breath.
Also, what was PayPal? Probably a type of credit card.
I licked my lips, considering his proposition. Why did he care that I visit the doctor?
Reading my mind once again, he said, “Your family won’t fulfill their end of the bargain unless you’re taken care of.”
Of course he didn’t care. I had no illusions about that. …so why did I feel a pang of disappointment nicking the spot just beneath my breastbone?
“Take the mask off, Lila. I know you can read. I know you surf the internet. I know you can write, and stitch together a wounded motherfucker, and probably split atoms. You’re coming with or without the confession. Be a smart girl and take the deal.”
I stood up and stomped my way to my room, where I changed into something hideously pink to piss him off. We left the house with a flock of
guards split into two vehicles. My husband was on a phone call the entire way.
The Mercedes stopped in front of a preppy Manhattan building. Tiernan got out first, followed by two of his soldiers, before he gestured for me to follow. The second set of guards trailed behind us.
We broke off from security when we entered the elevator in the sleek lobby. By now, I was so nauseous I was surprised I didn’t vomit my heart onto the floor. My palms were clammy, and my limbs felt like overcooked noodles.
My stomach was still flat, and the morning sickness was now almost completely gone, so I allowed myself to pretend I wasn’t pregnant most days. Now someone was going to touch me. Show me the baby. The child of my rapist. Make me face the reality I’d been ignoring for three months.
I was barely eighteen. I’d never even had a proper kiss. The kiss during the wedding ceremony didn’t count. And I knew nothing about babies.
When we got to the reception, my panic flared into sheer terror.
“Dr. Driscoll is unfortunately indisposed.” A flirty receptionist batted her fake lashes at my husband. She looked like one of my brothers’ mistresses. Big hair, boobs, and a small brain to match. “But her husband, Dr. Maguire, stepped in to cover her appointments for the rest of the
afternoon.”
A man was going to touch me?
A man was going to put his hands on my most private parts?
Jerkily, I looped my fingers around Tiernan’s forearm, digging my nails into his hard muscles.
“That won’t do,” Tiernan said calmly, dismissively. “I specifically
requested a female doctor.”
He did?
“Totally, yeah, I understand.” The bubbly receptionist flipped her hair with a smile. “And Dr. Driscoll will take over moving forward. It’s just this specific appointment—”
She stopped. Tiernan didn’t even say anything. His stony glare told her it was nonnegotiable. What was his voice like? Raspy, I’d imagined. Rough around the edges, just like the man himself.
“I see you’re not happy,” she said.
A thin, humorless smile. “Smart girl.”
The receptionist swallowed. “Let me see if Dr. Lockerby is available…”
“Is Dr. Lockerby a woman?”
“Hmm, yes. Her name is Meredith.”
“You do that, while I help my wife settle in the examining room.
Remember—if she’s uncomfortable, I’m uncomfortable. And if I’m uncomfortable…” He trailed off, casually leaning a shoulder against the wall and exposing the gun in the holster beneath his tailored peacoat.
“Everyone gets real uncomfortable.”
We huddled down the corridor and slipped into room number seven. A faded blue hospital gown waited on the edge of the examination table, folded neatly into a square.
I turned to Tiernan to tell him to look the other way and caught the sight of the door clicking shut. He left, the scent of expensive leather and musk lingering in the air like the swollen pulse of a kiss.
It was the first time I was alone somewhere new since the assault.
Was he coming back?
Was I going to face the doctor alone?
My anxiety won over. I picked up my phone and texted Mama. It was the first time I had initiated a conversation with her since she came back from Chicago.
Lila: Why didn’t you come to my OB-GYN appointment?
Chiara: I’m sorry, honey. I have a terrible headache. It shouldn’t be too bad.
Just do as the doctor asks.
Bullshit. She knew how triggering this was for me. Knew how this pregnancy came about.
Trembling, I reached for the zipper in the back of my dress. It took me three attempts to remove it. I picked up the hospital gown and examined it.
It was missing a part. Front or back, I couldn’t tell. But one side was purely
made out of strings.
Which way was the right one?
Tears collected on my lower eyelids. Since they were going to check my belly, I guessed I needed to wear the gown with my front exposed. I quickly tied the strings beneath my breasts and around my stomach. What a stupid design for a hospital gown! What was even the point of it?
I laid on the examination table, realizing to my chagrin there were stirrups on either side of it. I pressed my thighs together tightly. I didn’t want to be touched. To be seen. To be prodded like an animal.
It was the absence of Tiernan that made me realize I trusted him more than I cared to admit. Not with my heart, or with my happiness, but with my body. It was more than I could say about any man other than my brothers.
The door opened and Tiernan stepped back inside. I quickly swathed an arm over my breasts and pressed a hand to my groin to hide myself. Despite my mortification, I was relieved to have him back. He closed the door and swiveled my way, his gaze landing on my exposed skin.
The ice in his pupil snuffed, replaced with something else. Heated and urgent. It was the first time he looked…bothered. By something. By someone.
“What’s this?” His lips moved around a tight jaw. His gaze was trained hard on my face, refusing to travel lower.
I tossed him an incredulous glare that said, What does it look like? I’m waiting for my examination.
He pressed his lips together, and I had a horrible, devastating feeling he was suppressing a laugh. The door opened a crack again, and he turned
around, slamming it shut.
What was happening?
Panicked, I scooted to the edge of the table, watching as he ate the space between us with one step. His palms were splayed where I could see them, lifted in surrender.
“Not gonna touch you without permission.”
Why would he need to touch me at all?
Oh, God. The gown was the other way around, wasn’t it? My face flamed cherry-red, down to the tips of my ears.
“Help?” he offered.
I nodded. My ears were on fire.
“I’ll have to touch you.”
My heart nearly raced out of my chest. I jerked my chin in a second nod.
He grabbed me by the waist and lowered me to the floor with gentleness that made me question if he touched me at all.
Shame swirled in my stomach. I was humiliated and mortified.
“Close your eyes if it’s too much.”
He reached for the tied strings at my front, tugging them free without touching my skin. The heat of his body, of the masculinity he radiated in electric pulses, made my nipples pucker. They stood on end, pink, sharp,
and needy. So needy. It felt like his body spoke to mine in a language only they understood. I fought the urge to press against him, to lean my body against his.
I worried if he touched me somewhere, anywhere, I’d combust. It felt like I was on the verge of experiencing something big and foreign and exciting.
His expression remained inscrutable as he slid the sleeves off my shoulders.
The soft caress of the air between us made my stomach dip and my nipples harden even more.
They now grazed the expensive fabric of his dress shirt.
Gasping, I covered them with my hands. I stared at my feet to hide my blush.
What was wrong with me? Why was my body doing this?
My husband clasped my chin, tilting my head up so I could see him.
“It’s normal.” His neck strained with veins I hadn’t seen there before.
“Your nipples will go down in a sec.”
I stood completely naked before him. The air buzzed and sizzled with an energy that bound us together, vining us in invisible ropes.
I didn’t know what was happening to me, because suddenly, I wanted him to hug me. To kiss me. Show me how to order things from the internet.
Take me to see sunsets.
There seemed to be an increasing number of reasons why I should reveal my secret to Tiernan, and none at all why I should keep hiding.
And if he’d want to have sex with me? Maybe it wouldn’t be so awful.
If sex really was terrible, wouldn’t mankind be extinct? It seemed to run contradictory to the foundations of civilization.
Tiernan twisted the gown to the other side and covered my chest and stomach. He turned me around and secured the strings tightly around my back. Paused. Took one, deep, enormous breath I could feel in my own lungs, like he was gathering every atom of self-control in his body.
Then I felt him step away.
I scurried back to the examination table, and he opened the door, gesturing for the doctor to enter. It was a woman. She had gray short hair, thick glasses, and a stern face. She asked me if I approved of my husband
being present during the examination.
I nodded.
Tiernan sat beside me, readjusting his slacks. He kept folding his legs and changing positions in his seat, like he had ants in his pants. He refused to look at me.
My anxiety notched up another level when the doctor looked over the chart my husband filled out on my behalf. I ping-ponged my gaze from her to him when they spoke.
“I understand Mrs. Callaghan is nonverbal?” she asked.
“Mm.”
Was helping me really putting him in such a sour mood he couldn’t even speak?
“Will you be communicating on her behalf?”
“Uh-huh.”
Well, hardly, seeing as he refused to even speak. My God, was touching me really so appalling to him?
The look on the doctor’s face suggested she was appalled by the idea he had impregnated me, and she made no effort to conceal it.
“You indicated in the form that her last menstrual cycle ended six weeks ago.” She raised her fist to her mouth, probably clearing her throat.
“Eight days before our wedding.”
That wasn’t true. It had been at least thirteen weeks. But my father and Tiernan must’ve figured out a timeline to coincide with our wedding.
The obstetrician placed the clipboard on a counter, removing her reading glasses and cleaning the lenses with the edge of her white robe. “In that case, I recommend a vaginal ultrasound. It’s unlikely we’ll see anything substantial through an abdominal ultrasound, and I’d like to check for a heartbeat and get your estimated due date.”
“She’ll get an abdominal check,” he replied, unblinking.
“That’s not advisable at this stage of the pregnancy. Besides, she’ll have to endure those further into the pregnancy, when we check her cervix for dilate—”
“Should I go ask for a doctor who speaks English?” Tiernan threw his thumb toward the door. “I said nobody fucking gives her a vaginal check.”
Feeling my cheeks heating, I put a hand on his arm. His gaze jolted, meeting mine. I offered him a brief nod.
She was right. I was going to have to endure this sooner or later.
His jaw was so tense I was afraid his teeth were about to snap, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was as uncomfortable with the situation
as I was.
“Fine,” he bit out, still staring me down. “But you operate under the assumption she’s a virgin.”
The doctor offered him a withering look. “Do you take me for an idiot?”
“Absolutely. Case in point, you’re arguing with me.” He shook my touch off him. “I’m watching you, Doc.”
Tiernan didn’t care about me. I had to constantly remind myself of that.
But ever since I stitched him up, I seemed to have gained his respect. There was an unspoken agreement between us, that we’d look after each other, at least physically.
After a few more questions, Dr. Lockerby took out something that looked like a curling iron and put a huge condom on it. She slathered it with a clear gel. Her lips moved, but I was too flustered to follow them. I pressed my knees together harder, scooting up the examination table.
No.
No. No. No. No. No.
“We need five minutes,” my husband announced.
The doctor stood up and shuffled out of the room, looking none too pleased about the delay.
I cast my tear-filled gaze at his face. My heart was pounding so hard it
thrummed between my ears.
“You don’t have to do this.”
I shook my head. It needed to be done.
“No one can hurt you anymore, Gealach. Remember that.”
Taking a deep breath, I stretched my open palm in his direction. He hesitated before lacing our fingers together, giving me a firm squeeze. His skin was rough and coarse, hot. Still staring at me, he opened his mouth to call the doctor back.
Dr. Lockerby returned. I allowed her to slip my feet into the stirrups and buried my face in Tiernan’s neck. He smelled so good, I felt heady and drunk. The doctor’s device poked at my entrance, cold and foreign, and I gulped down my hiccups, determined not to cry.
The device slowly slipped inside me, penetrating my sensitive flesh. It was met with resistance. My muscles clamped around it, pushing it back, refusing to surrender.
It burned so badly I stopped breathing altogether.
After a few seconds, Tiernan nudged me from his neck and pinched my chin with his fingers, looking me in the eye. “Hey. The doctor asked that you try to relax.”
Easier said than done, but I nodded, my eyes clinging to his face desperately.
I sucked in a breath, feeling full and stretched and uncomfortable.
Pressing my lips together to suppress a scream, I focused on the hard planes of my husband’s face, trying to picture him doing this to me with his penis.
From the glimpse I’d caught the night he was with Becky, his thing was the size of a Dyson Airwrap.
“Release those muscles for me, Lila.” His thumb stroked my cheek.
Soft, soft, soft.
For me.
My muscles uncurled of their own accord, accepting the device. Dr.
Lockerby slipped in a few more inches.
He held my stare, and when I remembered he always seemed to read my mind, I blushed from the crown of my head to my little toes, because I imagined him there instead of the device.
And…I wasn’t repulsed by it. Not at all.
Tiernan scrubbed his thumb back and forth along my knuckles, using his other hand to smooth away flyaways from my forehead. “That’s it.
Good girl,” he fussed. “I knew you could take it. You’re doing so good. I’m proud of you.”
He gave me more words in a span of two minutes than he did the entire duration of our marriage. And I basked in them like a flower in the sun.
Something behind my breastbone fluttered. A combination of desire, warmth, and pride. I swallowed down a small moan of pleasure.
My body squeezed back at the device, but no longer because it didn’t want it there.
I noticed the doctor swiveling on her round chair toward a small screen and reluctantly ripped my gaze from Tiernan to see what she was saying.
“Well, Mr. and Mrs. Callaghan, there is certainly a heartbeat, and a healthy one.” She pointed at a white dot on the screen that kept flicking on
and off.
A pulse. My baby has a pulse.
The revelation was unsurprising and earth-shattering all at once. My secret, my burden, my shame. My eyes zeroed in on the small white dot.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Its little heart beat like a rabbit caught between canine teeth. Cornered and forced into existence.
It wasn’t the baby’s fault that its father raped me. It didn’t ask to be conceived. It was blameless, just like me.
“It appears that your wife is thirteen weeks along, not six.”
He shrugged.
“Mr. Callaghan?” The doctor arched a brow, demanding his words. She looked rather disgusted with the entire ordeal.
“What can I say? My sperm is an overachiever.”
Something dark passed between the two of them. It made the small hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. She was the first to break their stare-off, clearing her throat.
“Good news is you’ll have a Christmas baby. I’m setting the due date for December twenty-fifth.”
“February thirteenth,” Tiernan corrected.
She licked her lips, eyes darting around the room, searching for help that wouldn’t come. “Mr. Callaghan, I cannot—”
“If the baby arrives prematurely—say, late December—we’ll call it a happy surprise.” He used the tip of his shiny wingtip to roll her chair from the monitor and let go of my hand. Leaning over, he seized control of the keyboard and fixed the due date on her computer. His demeanor changed completely.
This was why he set up the OB-GYN appointment. To fix the timeline of our tragedy. Now it all made sense.
“W-would you like to take a prenatal blood test to find out the gender?”
Though I couldn’t hear her, I knew she was stammering by the way her lips quivered.
“Unnecessary.” Tiernan glanced at his watch before I was able to nod.
“Perhaps your wife doesn’t feel the same way.”
“In that case, she’s welcome to voice her preference.”
“Can she?” The doctor cast her terrorized gaze upon me.
“Oh, she can.” He sat back. Gone was the man who cooed and fussed me into loosening my muscles. Who held my hand and brushed my knuckles so gently I could cry. “She chooses not to. Right, Lila?”
How dare he dictate whether I found out the gender or not? He was strong-arming me into communicating with him by taking away my agency.
Already, freedom was a precious extravagance I could only dream of.
The doctor rolled her chair back to her computer, typing on her keyboard. “Do you know where you’d like to give birth?”
“Home,” Tiernan announced, again disregarding my preferences.
“She’ll have a home birth.”
Her fingers halted over the keyboard. “I’m not a fan of home births.”
“What a coincidence. I don’t give a fuck.”
“Deep breath now, Mrs. Callaghan.” The doctor flattened her palm over my abdomen and slowly slipped the device from between my legs. She tossed away the condom and latex gloves and stood up to wash her hands.
She spoke directly to Tiernan about appointments and schedules, then left the room.
Keeping my chin locked to keep it from wobbling, I slid off the table and waddled to the corner chair where my folded dress awaited. When I turned back around, Tiernan stood toe-to-toe with me. My blood was boiling with anger.
He plucked the dress from my hands and started helping me put it on, but I shoved him out of my way and tramped over to retrieve my shoes, ignoring the sticky coldness between my thighs.
I caught him speaking to me through the mirror, but didn’t bother reading his lips. I thought we’d reached some kind of ceasefire. Then he went and made decisions that weren’t his to make. The frustration of not being able to communicate this to him, to explain what angered me, made a rash break out across my neck. Great. I was becoming allergic to not talking to him.
I got dressed quickly and waited behind him at the reception desk while the flirty receptionist set us up with another appointment. When she gave him the clinic’s card with the date written down, she also slipped him her number. He pocketed it coolly, turned toward me, and strode outside.
Now, I wasn’t just fuming.
I was murderous.
I never should’ve stitched the bastard up. When the elevator slid open and we poured into the lobby, he pressed his hand to the small of my back. I slapped his touch away, even though his four soldiers were standing there, staring at us in disbelief.
Ignoring their bewildered expressions, he clasped my wrist and guided me to an alcove behind the elevator bank. My back pressed against a
silvered building directory. He bared his teeth, getting in my face.
“Got something to say to me, wifey?”
I offered my middle finger and an angelic smile.
He tipped his head back and laughed humorlessly.
“How much of a pushover can you be, Lila? I make your decisions for you, I take away your will, your words, your bleeding freedom. I took that whore’s number.” He pointed upstairs. “I’ll keep pushing your buttons until you break, because I refuse to play dumb like the rest of your family. Your brother took out my eye but make no mistake—I can still see through your bullshit.”
He had a point. Still, I wasn’t going to reward his bullying with my trust.
Anyway, why did he care about my words so much?
“Everyone underestimates you. You’re smart, cunning, and have skill,” he explained. “You can be an asset to me. One of my many lethal weapons.”
Of course he wanted to use me. Men like him only cared about expanding their empires.
Tiernan tilted my chin up. “One last chance to speak before I pry the words out of you. You won’t like my method, Gealach, so you better start
talking.”
Was he threatening me?
He made me crazy. Feral with rage and desire. I took a deep breath and
nodded. His features relaxed.
“Good. Now wha—”
I spat in his face, a taunting smile pulling at my lips.
Gone was his wry amusement. His expression promised retribution and pain.
I believed him. My husband wasn’t one for empty threats.
All the same, he needed to remember who I was.
Yes, a girl.
But also a Ferrante. _______
That night, I stared at my flat stomach in front of my bathroom mirror.
Turning sideways, I sucked it in all the way, ribs poking, to find the silhouette of my womb curving into a hillside.
There’s a baby in there.
I allowed myself a moment of joy. I’d always wanted to be a mother and never thought it could be possible due to my lie. I might be stuck with a husband who made Satan look like a kitten, but I’d always have my child.
I would love them.
Cherish them. Raise them with all the warmth and affection their father —both biological and by marriage—would never offer.
I’d never had anything of my own. Now? Now I was going to have the
most precious thing of all.
An ally.
A legacy.
Something worth fighting for.
Someone worth living for.
