Page 89 of Secret Baby for my Off-Limits Fiancé

I turn to her, heart pounding. “We need to go to the doctor.”

***

"We were finally able to get his fever down," the doctor tells me, his tone gentle but firm. "Make him rest as much as possible. He needs time."

Tears prick my eyes.

Giana stays by my side, driving us home, keeping me from spiraling.

That night, I sit beside Vincent’s crib, watching him breathe.

Giana gently pulls me away. “Come on, Layla. You need sleep too.”

I stare at her, my eyes bloodshot.

Then, suddenly, the dam breaks. Tears spill over, unstoppable.

Giana grabs my hand. “Layla, you’re a great mom. Vincent is going to be okay.”

“I’ve been so caught up with Valentino, I didn’t see this coming.” My voice breaks.

“This is not your fault.”

But the guilt doesn’t leave.

***

The day of the dinner arrives, but my heart is still at home.

Vincent has been taking medication and has proper hydration as the doctor ordered.

My mother and Giana promise me Vincent is in good hands.

I try to believe them.

I stand before the full-length mirror in my bedroom, my breath catching as I take in my reflection.

This dress… it’s a masterpiece.

The champagne-colored silk drapes over my body like liquid gold, molding to my curves as if it was made just for me. It clings in all the right places, accentuating the dip of my waist before cascading down in soft, effortless waves. The slit, high and deliciously daring, runs along my thigh, teasing just enough skin to be dangerous.

My fingers skim over the delicate lace detailing along the bodice, the sweetheart neckline dipping just enough to hint at seduction while still holding onto its elegance.

When I showed Valentino my options, he chose this for me, and whether or not he’ll admit it, it’s clear he wants me to look irresistible.

I sigh, running my hands over my arms as if I can smooth away the anxiety tightening my chest. I’ve barely stepped out of my room when my mother’s voice reaches me, gentle but firm.

“My dear, you don’t need to worry about anything.”

“I still don’t know about this.” My voice laced with worry. “Vincent’s fever is getting better, but it keeps coming and going. It’s been three days, Mom. What if it gets worse?”

She steps forward, placing her hands gently on my shoulders. “We’ll take care of everything at home and make sure Vincent gets the rest he needs. You don’t have to feel guilty for leaving the house for a few hours.”

But I do. God, I do.

The thought of leaving my baby while he’s still sick makes my stomach churn.

How can I go out, dress up, and pretend to be excited about a fake engagement when my son might need me at any moment?

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