by Holly Rayner
“Let’s beat Derek at his own game,” I say. “He’s the one who stirred up all of this controversy for us. Now it’s time to use it to our advantage. Let’s go give them a show.”
Nikki claps, and Luca fits his hand into mine. Together, the three of us head out of the apartment.
We make our way through the glass lobby doors and onto a patch of sidewalk in the center of the media frenzy. I would be frightened by the crowd pressing in on us if it wasn’t for the feel of Luca’s hand in mine.
He lifts my left hand, showing my ring finger to the world. I can’t stop smiling as he announces, “She said yes!” to the crowd.
A million flashbulbs go off around us, yet I’m barely aware of it. Luca turns to me and holds me in his arms. I let him hold me up and lean me back. His lips meet mine.
As we kiss, I’m not thinking about how we’re going to look in photographs, or what the headlines might be. I’m not thinking about public opinion, or whether I look the part of a prince’s wife. I could care less about all of that in this moment.
The crowd of reporters and photographers fade in my awareness, until I feel that Luca and I are the only two people in the world.
All I can feel is his strong hands, holding me, and his lips on mine.
One thought, and one thought only, fills my mind: this man is going to be my husband.
Chapter 23
Phoebe
Six Months Later
“What do you think?” Luca asks me as he steps into the master bathroom. “Is my tie straight?”
I’m standing at the double sink, just finishing up with my mascara. As I lower the wand from my eye, my sparkling engagement ring catches my eye. It’s been more than six months since Luca proposed, yet the sight of my ring still catches me by surprise at times.
I turn to Luca, who is now at my side. The bathroom of our luxury apartment is about the size of the bedroom of my old apartment. It feels surreal to be standing here surrounded by glistening chrome and polished marble.
Seeing that Luca is still fidgeting with his tie, I move my hands to the tie’s knot and slip my fingers behind it to straighten out one of the folds.
“There we go,” I say. “That’s better. Will you zip my dress? I’m having trouble reaching it.”
I turn and take in my reflection as Luca begins to work on my zipper. I’m very pregnant, and it’s strange to see my usually lean body now carry so much weight. I swear, I look like a balloon about to pop.
Though I’ve put concealer under my eyes, it’s hard to cover up the puffiness that has been plaguing me the last few days. It’s been hard to sleep, with the trial date looming so near.
Now it’s just hours away.
Luca pulls the zipper up to the nape of my neck and then fastens a button there as well.
“There you go,” he says. “You look gorgeous.”
“I look pregnant,” I say with a sigh. Then I add, “And I look like I’m about to have my fate decided for me by twelve people I don’t know.”
Luca leans down and kisses my forehead. “It’s going to be okay, my love. Whatever happens, we’re going to get through it.”
“I’m scared,” I whisper.
“I know.” He places his arms on my shoulders. “Just remember, you’re not alone,” he says. “I’ll be right there with you in the courthouse, watching from the gallery.”
His words comfort me. For the millionth time, I think about how impossible all of this would be without Luca’s support.
“Thank you,” I say, looking up at him. We lock eyes, and I’m filled with the incredible feeling of safety that he always manages to inspire in me.
I tilt my face up. He cups my face in his hands, and then kisses me deeply.
Though today may be the most challenging day of my life so far, I know I’ll survive.
Hand in hand, Luca and I leave the bathroom and cross through the expansive master bedroom. We descend the wide staircase and Luca opens the apartment’s front door. As I step over the threshold, I know that the next time I enter this apartment, I’ll be a different woman.
I will no longer look out into an uncertain future. My fate will be decided—for good or bad.
Forty-five minutes later, Luca and I arrive at the courthouse. He parks half a block away, and within minutes there’s a gaggle of reporters around us.
The knot in my stomach grows quickly as we near the courthouse steps.
I’m used to the clamoring of reporters around us, at this point. Members of the press have been following Luca and I around since we got engaged. For the most part, the articles that are printed about us have a positive spin on them. We seem to be the world’s favorite sweethearts—despite Derek’s attempts to smear my name whenever he gets a chance—and I no longer see the press as a threat. Rather, I feel almost as though they’re a swarm of harmless flies, circling around us.
Luca protects me as we hurry up the granite steps. I tune out the sound of questions being fired our way and instead focus on my breathing. I have to try to stay calm—for the babies’ sake just as much as my own.
Luca holds the door open for me, and we step inside.
“You doing okay?” he asks the minute the door closes behind us.
I nod. “I think so.”
He hugs me close, and together we make our way down the wide hallway. My heels click against the stone floors, the sound echoing. Another set of footsteps, faster than mine, sounds. Then a figure rounds a corner. It’s Marla, and she’s walking fast.
At the sight of Luca and I, she waves and picks up her speed.
When she is still thirty feet away, she calls out to us. “Have you heard?”
“Heard what?” Luca asks.
“Phoebe,” Marla says, focusing her gaze on me. Now she’s just a few feet away. She lowers her voice. “All of the charges against you have been dropped!” She reaches out and squeezes my upper arm. “You don’t have to go to trial today!”
I don’t understand what she’s telling me.
“You mean it’s been postponed?” I ask, a sinking feeling in my gut. I’ve been waiting for more than six months to come to court. The thought of waiting longer fills me with fear and frustration.
“No,” Marla says. “I mean you’re not going to be on trial at all. The charges have been dropped completely.”
My fear dissolves instantly, but it’s still hard to process what Marla is saying. For so many months I’ve been so focused on this trial. I’ve been working hard to accept the idea that I might spend time in prison. It’s hard to comprehend the fact that I am now free from that burden.
I stagger backward. There are several chairs pushed up against the wall in the long hallway. I fall into one, letting the news of my freedom wash over me.
“What changed?” Luca asks Marla.
“Derek messed up,” Marla says. “Big time. You know how he went on the Jim Kilmore show, a week ago? He was trying to make Phoebe look bad by bringing up all of the details of the crime, but he let too many details slip—things about his clients’ private accounts that he shouldn’t have known. Kilmore’s staff of reporters did some digging, and it all came out: Derek was the one who embezzled the funds—not Phoebe.”
I look up at Marla. “So you’re saying that my name is cleared?” I say slowly. “I don’t have to prove I’m innocent? Derek proved it for me?”
Marla nods. “No trial. No sentencing. Phoebe—it’s all over.”
Finally, the truth sets in. I’m free.
I leap out of my chair. I want to hug Luca and Marla both. I don’t know who to go to first. Before I can decide, a sudden pain jolts me into stillness.
It’s an intense, gripping pain that radiates through my abdomen.
And just like that, I know.
This isn’t the same pain that I’ve become accustomed to over the last few months. It’s not an ache in my lower back, or the discomfort of kicking and shifting within my belly.
This is labor pain.
I
place a hand on my bulging belly and lock eyes with my fiancé. “Luca, I think we need to get the car,” I say.
“Yes!” he says. “Let’s go celebrate! Baby, I’m taking you out to lunch.”
I shake my head. “No, you’re not,” I say. “You’re taking me to the hospital.”
Chapter 24
Luca
The waiting room is brightly lit and smells of hand sanitizer and stale coffee.
A few chairs are occupied by others waiting for loved ones who are undergoing surgery. Thankfully, they are too preoccupied with their own thoughts to pester me for autographs or selfies. I don’t think I could handle that right now.
There are plenty of chairs available, but I can’t sit still. I pace back and forth in front of the doors that an ER doctor disappeared down an hour earlier. That was after he told me that they were taking Phoebe in for an emergency C-section. I haven’t heard anything since.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, causing me to jump. I pull it from my pocket and see that it’s Willem.
My brother and I have become closer these past few months. I think he respects the fact that I’m marrying Phoebe. He believes me now, that she’s not just a fling for me. She’s much more.
I pick up the phone. “Willem?” I say.
“Luca! Congratulations!” my brother says.
“They’re not here yet,” I say, assuming that he’s congratulating me for the births.
“Who’s not here?” Willem says. “I saw on the news that the charges against Phoebe have been dropped. That’s fantastic, brother!”
The double doors that lead back into the operating suites open. A doctor steps out. I’m distracted from my conversation for a minute as I watch the doctor intently.
Instead of walking toward me, the doctor heads over to an elderly woman who is sitting with her knitting.
My shoulders fall. I was hoping that the doctor had news for me.
I return my focus to my conversation with Willem, who is still talking. “…for both of you, and certainly a relief for her. I can’t imagine, after all this time, that—”
“Willem,” I interject. “To be honest, the trial is the farthest thing from my mind right now. I’m in the hospital waiting room, and I can barely focus…” My voice trails off as the double doors swing open again.
This time, it’s a nurse that emerges. She’s carrying a clipboard. I hold my breath as she summons a young mother over to her.
I exhale and push my hand through my hair. Is Phoebe doing okay? Does a C-section usually take this long, or has there been some kind of complication?
“You’re in the hospital?” Willem repeats. “Why? What happened?”
“Phoebe went into labor,” I say. “It’s two weeks before she was scheduled to come in for a C-section. The contractions were coming fast, though, and her doctor ordered an emergency C-section. I wanted to go with her, but they said it was too delicate of a surgery. I’m barely keeping it together out here.”
“Take a deep breath,” my brother advises. “She’s going to be fine. The babies are going to be fine. You’re in the best hospital in the city, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I say. “One of the best in the country, actually.”
“You see?” Willem says. “She’s in good hands. Soon you’re going to be surrounded by your new family, Luca. I can’t wait to meet everyone: Phoebe and the little ones. Why don’t you come home to Westegaard when you’re all well enough to travel?”
The thought of bringing my new family to my home country begins to choke me up. My voice sounds strained as I try to answer my brother without becoming overly emotional. “I hope she’s okay,” I say. “I want you to meet her. I know you’ll love her.”
I think again of Phoebe on the operating table, and I close my eyes and say a silent prayer for her safety.
My brother speaks. “Luca, be strong,” he says. “You’ve been through worse than this, and you’ve always come out of it stronger for the struggle. Hang in there, okay?”
“You’re right,” I say, opening my eyes. “Thanks, Willem. I’ll keep you posted.”
I’m about to sign off when the double doors open again. This time, after the female nurse scans the waiting room, her eyes settle on me.
“I’ve got to run,” I tell my brother quickly.
“I want pictures!” he says, just before I hang up.
“Luca von Kartmeier?” the nurse asks as she approaches me.
“That’s me,” I confirm.
She smiles at me warmly. “I have good news,” she says. “Phoebe is just fine, and—”
“The babies?” I say, unable to stop myself. “They’re okay, too?”
She nods. “They’re wonderful. If you’ll come with me, I can take you to them.”
A tsunami of relief and joy floods my veins. I feel as though I’m floating as I follow the nurse through the double doors, and then down a wide hallway.
On either side of the hall, I see bins of medical supplies, carts filled with little drawers, and metal dressers bursting with scrubs. The nurse has me put on some of the scrubs before proceeding further. We walk down the hall a few steps before she pauses in front of a closed door. After checking the chart for that room, she then turns the door handle and holds the door open for me.
I slip past her and into a quiet room. A curtain is pulled, shielding me from seeing the room’s interior. I reach for the curtain and pull it aside.
There, lying in the hospital bed, is my beautiful Phoebe. In each arm, she cradles a little infant. Beside the bed, I see two bassinets each holding a blanket-swathed baby.
I approach the bed, tears filling my eyes.
I thought I’d experienced joy before. Phoebe has taught me so much, since I met her, about what it means to feel peace and happiness. However, I’ve never felt joy as intense as this. I look at the little angelic face of the infant girl snuggled in the crook of Phoebe’s right arm.
Ever so gently, I lean down and kiss Phoebe’s forehead. Her face is pale, except for the bright pink of her cheeks. Her brown hair is in a messy knot on top of her head. Her makeup is smeared. She’s glowing, with the most serene look in her eyes.
I transfer my gaze to the little girl again. Phoebe and I have known for months that she was carrying a boy and three girls. I’ve been speaking to this girl each evening, about how she’s going to have to put up with having three older siblings. Now, seeing her in Phoebe’s arms, I feel like I’m meeting her for the very first time.
“Hi there,” I whisper. She’s so small, with wide-set eyes just like Phoebe’s. It’s probably too early to tell, but I think she has my nose. Pride swells in my heart as I stroke her cheek with the back of my finger.
“She’s the youngest,” Phoebe whispers. “Carolina. She came out last.”
“And she’s going to have three older siblings to take care of her,” I say, beaming.
Then I move my gaze to my son, held in Phoebe’s left arm.
I greet him with a soft touch to the cheek as well. “Are you going to be good to your little sister?” I ask him.
“They’re all healthy,” Phoebe murmurs. “Strong. Perfect.”
“You’re perfect,” I tell her. I look at Phoebe once again. I smooth the hair away from her forehead and give her another kiss before I move to the bassinet.
Gently, I welcome my children into the world. I kiss their little cheeks and promise to take care of them.
When I return my gaze to Phoebe, I see that she’s crying.
I place my hand on her cheek and wipe away a tear.
“They’re happy tears,” she says as she raises her hand and places it on top of mine. “I’ve never felt so full before. I feel like my heart might burst.”
She weaves her fingers between mine. “I woke up today wondering if I might be going to prison. I was fearing the worst, and now here I am—experiencing the best moment of my life. It’s thanks to you, Luca. You came to my rescue, over and over again.”
More t
ears spill over her lids.
I look into her glistening eyes and shake my head. “No, Phoebe,” I say. “You rescued me. I doubted that I’d ever find love. I started to doubt that it even existed. My family was falling apart around me. Now, you’ve given it back to me.” I look at our four children. “This is more than I ever could have asked for.”
Phoebe chuckles softly. “Much more,” she says.
I laugh along with her and then lean over her and give her a kiss.
Chapter 25
Phoebe
Three Months Later
“Let me help,” Luca says reaching for little Carolina, who is now three months old.
I hand the crying bundle up to Luca, who is standing in the aisle of the private jet, and her wails immediately cease. Luca has been pushing a carrier along the aisle, soothing Beth—who we named after my mom. He rolls the carrier so that it’s lined up with my chair. I reach for the handle and then gently rock the carrier back and forth. I see Beth’s little eyes growing heavy. I’m sure she’ll fall asleep soon.
Nikki, at my side, laughs. “That Carolina really is a daddy’s girl, isn’t she?”
I turn to my sister and catch a glimpse of the clouds through the window just beyond her. I grin as I roll my eyes. “It’s unbelievable,” I say. “I’ll do everything for her—bottle, diaper change, try to get her to sleep—and she just won’t calm down. But the minute he holds her, she stops immediately. He’s the only one that can get her down for a nap.”
Nikki giggles and then looks down at the bundle in her own arms. “You’re going to have to be extra nice to your mamma, you hear that Princess Olivia? She needs to be somebody’s favorite.”
Luca laughs as well. He holds Carolina to his chest and bounces her gently up and down as he walks with her over to a recliner seat. He positions her so that she can see out of the window, and I hear him speak softly. “See that, my little love? That’s Europe down there. We’re going to your new home: Westegaard.”