Chapter 2 - THE HUSBAND WHO BURIED AN EMPTY COFFIN
Damen Moretti stood so abruptly that his chair struck the wall.
For eight months, he had imagined this moment.
Not consciously.
Not in a way he would ever have admitted.
But in the hour before dawn, when sleep refused to come, he sometimes pictured Serena walking through a doorway and telling him there had been a mistake.
He had never imagined that doorway would belong to a greasy diner on the West Side.
Or that she would be pregnant.
Or that she would look at him with terror.
"Everyone stay where you are," Marco said automatically.
"No," Damen snapped.
The room went still.
Damen looked at Serena.
"Are you hurt?"
She stared at him.
It was such an ordinary question.
Almost absurd.
She was alive.
He had buried her.
And he was asking whether she was hurt.
"Don't come closer," she whispered.
His expression changed.
"Serena."
"Please."
He stopped.
Alessandra rose from the booth.
"Damen, who is this woman?"
He didn't answer.
His eyes remained fixed on Serena.
"Eight months," he said.
She swallowed.
"Yes."
"Eight months."
His voice cracked.
"I watched them lower your coffin."
Serena's face twisted.
"I know."
He stared.
"You know?"
Tears filled her eyes.
"Damen, I didn't have a choice."
He looked at her stomach.
The room seemed to tilt.
"Whose baby?"
She closed her eyes.
His voice lowered.
"Serena."
She pressed a trembling hand over her belly.
"Yours."
Damen staggered backward.
Marco caught his arm.
For a moment, the most feared man in Chicago looked incapable of standing.
Alessandra stared.
"What?"
Nobody answered.
She looked from Damen to Serena.
Then at Serena's stomach.
Her face drained of color.
"Damen, you told me your wife was dead."
He looked at her.
"So did everyone else."
Jerry came rushing from the kitchen.
"What the hell happened?"
Serena bent to pick up the broken glass.
Damen moved instinctively.
"Don't."
She flinched.
He stopped.
"Please," he said more gently. "Let someone else."
Jerry looked between them.
"Serena?"
Damen's eyes narrowed.
"She works here under her real name?"
Jerry frowned.
"Her name's Sarah."
Serena closed her eyes.
Damen stared at the name tag.
SARAH.
A borrowed name.
A borrowed life.
His wife had been hiding in plain sight.
He turned to Marco.
"Get the car."
Serena stiffened.
"No."
Damen looked at her.
"I'm not taking you anywhere against your will."
She stared.
He swallowed.
"But I need to know what happened."
Her eyes filled.
"I can't tell you here."
"Then tell me where."
She looked toward the kitchen.
Then at the customers watching.
Finally, she whispered:
"Not in front of her."
Alessandra went rigid.
Damen turned toward his fiancée.
For the first time since entering the diner, he seemed to remember she existed.
"Alessandra."
She stared at him.
"Don't."
He swallowed.
"I'm sorry."
Her expression hardened.
"Your dead wife is standing in front of me carrying your child."
Damen said nothing.
Alessandra laughed once.
A terrible sound.
"And you're sorry?"
She grabbed her coat.
"Find out what happened, Damen."
Then she walked out.
Serena watched her leave.
Her chest tightened.
May you like
She had spent eight months believing she was protecting Damen.
Now she wasn't sure whether she had destroyed him.
