Chapter 29: Make an Appointment

Carla's POV

The hospital lobby buzzed with its usual morning activity as I waited near the information desk. Today was Ricardo's spinal fusion surgery, a procedure that could potentially improve his condition, though the doctors had been careful not to promise miracles.

"Carla!"

I turned to see Mia hurrying across the marble floor, her scrubs covered by a light jacket. Her face was etched with concern as she pulled me into a quick hug.

"I came as soon as I got your message," she said. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm managing. Thank you for coming."

Mia glanced around the busy lobby, then leaned closer. "Listen, I've been thinking about your situation. This surgery creates the perfect opportunity."

"What do you mean?"

"The stress, the emotional trauma of watching Ricardo go through this. It would be completely natural for you to have a miscarriage. No one would question it, and it would solve your problem permanently."

End the pregnancy lie now, before things became more complicated. It was logical.

"Mia—"

"Think about it, Carla. You could grieve the loss publicly, have everyone's sympathy, and then slowly rebuild your life. No more lies, no more deception."

But I couldn't tell her about my arrangement with Alessandro, about the contract we were about to sign. The next fifteen days would determine whether I could actually become pregnant, making the lie a reality.

"I'll consider it," I said carefully. "But right now, I just need to focus on getting through today."

Before I could say more, I saw Beatrice approaching us.

"Carla, cara mia," she said. "How are you feeling? The baby?"

"We're both fine," I said, the lie coming automatically now. "A little tired, but fine."

Beatrice's attention shifted to Mia, and I made quick introductions. "This is my friend Mia. She works at Mount Sinai."

"How wonderful to meet you," Beatrice said with genuine warmth. "Any friend of Carla's is family to us."

The three of us moved to the surgical waiting area, where comfortable chairs and soft lighting couldn't quite mask the underlying tension that permeated such spaces. Beatrice had brought a leather portfolio filled with documents. Insurance forms, medical directives, contact information for the team of specialists she'd assembled.

"Dr. Brown is the finest neurosurgeon on the East Coast," she explained as we settled into our seats. "He's performed this procedure hundreds of times. If anyone can help Ricardo regain some function, it's him."

The hours passed slowly. Mia stayed for the first two hours before her shift started, offering quiet support and medical insight when Beatrice had questions about the procedure. After she left, other family members began arriving.

First came Elena, Beatrice's sister, followed by several cousins and their wives. Each arrival brought flowers, food, and careful expressions of hope mixed with realistic concern. As Ricardo's wife, I found myself in the position of receiving their condolences and encouragement, playing the role of the grieving but hopeful spouse.

"You look radiant despite everything," Elena commented during a quiet moment. "Pregnancy agrees with you, even under these circumstances."

"The baby gives me strength," I replied, the words feeling hollow even as I spoke them.

Around noon, Dr. Brown emerged from the surgical suite, still in his scrubs. His expression was cautiously optimistic as he approached our group.

"The surgery went very well," he announced. "We were able to stabilize the damaged vertebrae and relieve pressure on the spinal cord. While I can't promise a full recovery, there's reason for cautious hope."

Beatrice burst into tears of relief, and I found myself crying too. My tears were as much from guilt and exhaustion as from happiness.

The next several hours were spent receiving visitors and well-wishers. Word had spread quickly through the family network, and a steady stream of people came to offer support. I recognized faces from family gatherings, business associates, and friends who'd known Ricardo before his accident.

Each conversation required me to play my part perfectly. The devoted wife, the expectant mother, the pillar of strength holding the family together. By late afternoon, my face hurt from maintaining appropriate expressions, and my voice was hoarse from repeated explanations of Ricardo's condition and prognosis.

Finally, the visitors thinned out and I was able to sit alone with Ricardo in his recovery room.

I took his hand in mine, careful not to disturb the various tubes and wires. "I'm here," I whispered. "I'm always here."

The room was quiet except for the steady beeping of machines. I settled into the bedside chair, watching the rise and fall of his chest, counting each breath as a small victory. Somewhere around hour four of my vigil, exhaustion finally overcame me.

I dreamed of a courtroom filled with faceless judges. Beatrice sat in the gallery, her face twisted with betrayal as evidence of my deception was presented piece by piece. The ultrasound images, the fake pregnancy, the lies I'd told. All of it laid bare for judgment.

"Guilty," the judges intoned in unison. "Guilty of deception, manipulation, fraud."

The floor beneath me opened, revealing flames that reached up to claim me. As I fell, I could hear Ricardo's voice calling my name, but when I tried to reach for him, my hands passed through him like he was made of smoke.

I woke with a start, my heart racing and my clothes damp with sweat. The hospital room was darker now, lit only by the soft glow of medical equipment. According to the wall clock, it was just past eight PM.

My phone buzzed with a message from Alessandro.

"Time to discuss our contract. Meet me at the penthouse. Bring what we discussed."

I stared at the message, my stomach churning with a mixture of dread and anticipation. The next fifteen days were about to begin.

I squeezed Ricardo's hand gently, then gathered my things. At the nurses' station, I left my contact information and asked them to call if there were any changes in his condition.

The elevator ride to the parking garage felt like a descent into another world. One where I would surrender control in exchange for the chance to make my lies become truth.

In my car, I opened the small bag Lilith had given me. Inside were the tools I'd never imagined owning, including a velvet pouch with a powerful vibrator and remote control. I felt my face flush as I stared at it. Taking a deep breath, I slipped the vibrating egg between my legs, hiding it under my panties. This is a remote control, he can remotely control it through the App.

As I drove through the Manhattan streets toward his penthouse, the city lights reflected off my windshield, and I tried not to think about what awaited me, even as the first, subtle hum began to vibrate against my clitoris.