194
I don't want to be stuck at home in this moment, so I ask John to take me to the beach. I don't even have the appropriate clothes, but it feels necessary.
Luckily, we're only a few minutes away and we arrive quickly.
I walk slowly until my feet touch the sand, and I stand facing the sea, listening to the calming sound.
I close my eyes and place my hand on my abdomen. The doctor said I'm about three weeks pregnant. Doing the math, I realize I got pregnant when I was with Gérard on the island.
The fetus is just like a little bean.
I chuckle to myself at that thought. I have my little bean baby growing inside of me, I say internally while still laughing.
The feelings that flood me are so conflicting. I can't deny that I feel happy, but at the same time, sad.
I'm very scared, terrified that history might repeat itself, and I'm afraid to tell him. I don't know how he'll react. This happened too soon and I don't feel ready to tell others, especially my mom.
"Miss," John says, approaching where I am. "Mr. Durand is asking for you."
He hands me his phone, and I stare at the device for several seconds before deciding to take it and answer.
"Hello."
"Why aren't you answering my calls?" he asks straightforwardly.
"My phone died," I simply say.
"What are you doing at the beach when you were supposed to be with Isabella?"
"We finished the meeting with the wedding planner, and I wanted to come to the beach, Gérard. Do you have a problem with that?"
"There are problems when you don't answer the damn phone," he retorts sternly.
"Don't even think about trying to control me again," I warn him, annoyed.
"I don't want to control you, I just want you to answer your phone because you're living in constant danger and you don't even let me know," he exclaims through the line.
"What danger? What are you talking about?"
"What am I talking about, Juliette? Did you think I wouldn't find out about what happened at our house? Did you know there are cameras?" he says, frustrated.
I'm left speechless after hearing what he just said.
"Now you're not answering," he sighs. "When were you planning on telling me that someone had entered our home?" he questions, but I don't respond.
There's a silence for a few seconds where he doesn't say anything. I know he's trying to control himself, which means he has changed a lot since the times when we used to have endless arguments.
The fact that he's now trying to be so understanding makes me feel a bit guilty and proud of his progress.
"We'll talk about this when I get home, goodbye," he says seriously and then hangs up.
I hand John his phone back and let out a long sigh due to the stress that this whole situation is causing me.
"Shall we head to the mansion, miss?" John asks.
I think about it for a bit and after some contemplation, I decide to go shopping first. He's already upset anyway, so it doesn't matter if I take a bit longer to get home.
As we leave the beach, I ask John to stop by the supermarket to pick up some jars of Nutella and some chocolates. I feel like I need to eat chocolate every second.
A considerable amount of time later, after leaving the supermarket loaded with bags, we finally head to the mansion. When we arrive home, I take some of the bags out of the car and wait for John to open the door so I can enter.
As I do, I walk inside and soon spot Gérard standing in the living room. I walk past him, heading to the kitchen to unload the things, taking my time before going to where that demon awaits me.
"Why are all these men here?" is the first thing I ask upon noticing the tall, burly men dressed in black in the room.
Each and every one of them looks like thugs, straight out of a mafia movie.
"They're your security," Gérard informs me.
"What?" I reply, confused. "Are you crazy?"
"I'd be crazy if I left you to your own devices, given how inclined you are to tell things to your husband," he says with irony.
"I was going to."
"When? After something serious happened to you?"
"Nothing serious has happened to me so far, so I don't see why you're exaggerating."
"Are you seriously saying that? A damn intruder broke into this house a day before Paul gave you the keys, and instead of calling the police or telling someone, you chose to keep quiet," he reproaches angrily.
"I don't want to argue about this," I simply say.
"We're going to discuss it now, Juliette," Gérard says, approaching me. "Besides the fact that you keep being unable to tell me the truth, it bothers me how reckless you are and how you don't see the danger you're in."
"If I had known there were cameras before, I would have done something..."
"Of course," he retorts. "If it weren't for the fact that the police were looking for evidence that that bastard Damien had come to this house the day you were kidnapped, I would have never found out."
So that's how he found out.
"For how long, Juliette? How long will you keep hiding things from me?" he questions sternly. "Don't you trust me?"
"Of course I trust you!"
"Then why are you keeping things from me?" he says, raising his voice.
"I just don't want to give you more worries!" I exclaim. "I don't want to stress you with more problems than you already have. You're fighting for your daughter, supporting me with the trial, and..."
I'm afraid that all my problems will stress him out so much that he'll have a relapse.
"What really stresses me out is that you don't tell me what's going on and that your life is in danger. I've told you so many times, you have to stop assuming how I'll react and instead find out, let me know."
I can't deny that he's right about that.
"I know."
"I'll ask you one last time, Juliette. Don't hide things from me anymore," he says more calmly, placing his hands on my cheeks.
I stare at him intently and swallowing hard, I nod with remorse burning inside me.