Chapter 18
Gabriela’s POV
The smell of coffee hit me like a punch to the stomach. I was halfway down the stairs to breakfast when the aroma—one I’d always loved—made me turn around and sprint to the nearest bathroom. I vomited until there was nothing left. I ended up on the bathroom floor, shaking, my forehead pressed against the cold porcelain of the toilet.
No.
Please, no.
Almost three weeks had passed since that night. Three weeks since Alejandro Ferrer had saved me from those guys at the bar. Three weeks since I’d lost my virginity under the effects of a drug I hadn’t asked for. Three weeks since I’d broken his heart by telling him it meant nothing.
And now this.
I stood up on trembling legs and rinsed my mouth. I looked at myself in the mirror.
Pale. Deep dark circles under my eyes. Hair a mess. I looked like death.
And I felt worse.
Because I knew what morning sickness meant.
Because my breasts had been sore all week.
Because my period was five days late, with no sign of it.
—It can’t be —I whispered to my reflection—. This can’t be happening.
But deep down, I knew.
I’d known for days. I’d just been refusing to accept it.
A knock on the door made me jump.
—Gaby? —Alejandra’s voice—. Are you okay? I heard you running.
—I’m fine —I lied, turning on the tap so it would sound like I was washing my hands—. Just… something I ate last night.
—We all ate the same thing, and no one else is sick.
Shit. My sister was way too observant.
I opened the door, forcing a smile.
—Maybe it’s a stomach bug. You know how I am.
Alejandra looked at me with those green eyes that knew me far too well.
—You’ve been “sick” a lot lately.
—It’s flu season.
—It’s March.
—The flu doesn’t respect calendars, Ale.
She didn’t believe me. I saw it on her face. But she didn’t push.
—Okay. But if you don’t get better, you should see a doctor.
—I will. I promise.
Lie. I couldn’t go to a doctor. Because then I’d have to face the truth.
The rest of the day was torture.
The smell of food made me nauseous. Mom’s perfume sent me running to the bathroom again. Even the soap I always used suddenly seemed disgusting.
I locked myself in my room, pretending I had a migraine.
With trembling hands, I Googled: “early pregnancy symptoms.”
Nausea. Check.
Breast tenderness. Check.
Extreme fatigue. Check.
Heightened sense of smell. Check.
Missed period. Check.
—Shit —I whispered, closing the browser—. Shit, shit, shit.
I couldn’t be pregnant.
I couldn’t.
I was twenty-five years old. I had an active social life. Plans to travel to Europe this summer. I wasn’t ready to be a mother. And I definitely wasn’t ready to be pregnant by my brother’s best friend. By the man I’d told wasn’t my type. That he should pretend nothing had happened.
What was I going to do?
The tears started before I could stop them.
I cried silently, pressing my pillow over my mouth so no one would hear me.
How had I let this happen?
Well, technically I knew how. Someone drugged me. Alejandro saved me. We had sex. A lot of sex. All night.
Did we use protection?
I couldn’t remember. Everything was blurry because of the drug. I only remembered fragments. Heat. Desperation. Hands on my skin. Pleasure mixed with chaos.
But I didn’t remember condoms.
Idiot, I screamed at myself. Idiot, idiot, idiot.
A knock on my door made me wipe my tears quickly.
—Gaby? —Gabriel this time—. Can I come in?
—I’m not in the mood, Gabriel.
—Too bad, because I’m coming in anyway.
The door opened. My twin brother walked in with that worried expression I hated because it made me want to tell him everything.
He sat on my bed without asking.
—Talk to me.
—There’s nothing to talk about.
—Lie. Something’s been wrong with you since that night. And don’t tell me you’re fine, because I’m your twin. I feel it —he tapped his chest—. I feel your pain.
The tears came back. I couldn’t stop them.
Gabriel hugged me immediately, holding me while I sobbed against his chest.
—What happened that night, Gaby? —he asked softly—. What did they do to you?
—I can’t tell you —I cried—. If I tell you, everything will explode. And I’m not ready. I can’t—
—Shh, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me now. But when you are ready, I’ll be here. Do you understand? I’ll always be here.
—I know.
We stayed like that, holding each other, like when we were kids and the world felt too big and terrifying. And I wanted to tell him. God, how I wanted to tell him everything. But if I told him about Alejandro, he’d kill him. Literally kill him.
And if I told him about the possible pregnancy…
No. I couldn’t. Not yet. First, I needed to be sure.
That night, when everyone was asleep, I snuck out of the mansion.
I took an Uber to a 24-hour pharmacy in the Bronx. Far away. Somewhere no one would know me.
I walked through the aisles with the hood of my sweatshirt pulled over my face.
I grabbed three different pregnancy tests. Just in case.
I paid in cash. The cashier, a tired woman with a Dominican accent, looked at me with something that resembled compassion.
—Good luck, mija —she said quietly.
I didn’t respond.
On the Uber ride back, the test boxes burned in my bag like evidence of a crime.
What would I do if it was positive?
Keep the baby? Raise it alone?
Tell Alejandro? The man I’d brutally rejected?
Tell my family? Face the disappointment in Mom’s eyes? Gabriel’s fury? Dad’s judgment?
The Uber dropped me off two blocks from the mansion. I didn’t want the driver to see exactly where I lived.
I walked the two blocks in the dark, clutching my bag to my chest.
When I reached the door, I saw light coming from Dad’s study.
He was still awake.
I climbed the stairs quietly, avoiding the steps that creaked—a skill I’d perfected over years of sneaking out at night.
I entered my room and locked the door.
The three test boxes sat on my bed, accusing me.
I looked at the clock. Two in the morning.
Too late to take them now. The instructions said it was best to use the first urine of the morning.
So I’d have to wait.
Six more hours of uncertainty. Six more hours of terror.
I lay on my bed without changing, staring at the ceiling.
My hand rested on my stomach. Still flat. Still no sign of anything.
But maybe… maybe there was something there. A tiny life. A mistake turned into a person.
What am I going to do? I thought in the dark.
And I had no answer.
Because no matter what those tests showed tomorrow, my life would never be the same.
If it was negative, I’d live with the terror that it could happen at any moment.
If it was positive…
If it was positive, everything would change.
Gabriel would lose his mind. Mom would cry. Dad would be furious. Alejandra would be in shock.
And Alejandro…
Alejandro would have to know.
The man I told wasn’t my type. That nothing had happened. The man who looked at me like I’d ripped his heart out.
I’d have to look him in the eyes and say: “I’m pregnant. And it’s yours.”
How would he react? With anger? Accusations? Rejection?
Or with that tenderness I’d seen in his eyes that morning in his penthouse?
My pillow was soaked with tears.
I didn’t sleep at all that night.
I just waited.
And I prayed to a God I wasn’t sure I believed in that the tests would be negative.
That this would just be a scare.
That tomorrow I could wake up and still be just Gabriela Moretti.
The middle twin. The party girl. The free one.
And not Gabriela Moretti, the single mother. The one who got pregnant by her brother’s best friend. The one who ruined her life at twenty-five.
But deep down, in a dark place I didn’t want to admit existed, a small part of me…
A very small part…
Wanted it to be positive.
Because it would mean something good had come out of that horrible night. That Alejandro and I had created something together. Something that would be completely ours.
Even if that meant everything else went to hell.