Page 48 of Medical Malpractice

GABRIELLA

A month had passed, and we were busier than ever.

Leonardo had unceremoniously moved back into the house, sleeping in the guest room rather than a motel. He did a lot for the girls, and the return made sense.

I was still keeping him at arm’s length, choosing to put my needs and self-care above us. I began individual therapy, finally willing to break down everything—Nico, my former marriage, fertility fears and Leonardo’s lies. There was a lot to unpack, but at least I’d taken that first step. They say that’s the hardest part, right?

However, with the opening of Pandora’s box came the reckoning of old paranoia and suspicion of being followed and stalked by my ex-husband. As if I didn’t have enough to overcome.

Leonardo heard my fears and tightened up our security system in and around the house, which we both had access to on our devices. He also checked in periodically, subtly scoping out if I felt safe and secure.

The majority of the time, I was fine, yet in those few vulnerable moments, no matter the scenario, Leonardo would readily drop everything to be present and help guide me through my fears. He was patient, never placing demands or pressure on me in return. And he let me know he was there, both verbally and through actions, promising he would wait forever if that was what it took.

I had slowly come to terms with the fact that I wanted to salvage my marriage, and I knew it could only come with rebuilding our foundation of trust. But how do you regain what was lost? That was the elusive question I was still unable to answer.

A text message flashed on my phone once I laid Celeste to sleep in her nursery.

Alexis: We’re an hour out. Can’t wait to see you.

Drive safe.

I placed my phone on the dresser as I switched the baby monitor on.

Rain and thunder seemed to form out of nowhere when the Thrones had already driven the majority of the way. It was Saturday, and Leonardo had urgently been called into the clinic, which left me with a tired baby and an excitable Angelina.

In the past four weeks, we’d had regular meetups with the Thorne family, and enjoyed Acacia Falls the more we visited. On this occasion, Austin was on his way to spend the weekend with us for the first time ever.

We’d made a whole list of plans that were ruined by the unpredictable weather, hence why my seven-year-old was now setting up the living room for our impromptu movie day. I went to help when her gaze caught on my attire.

“You have spaghetti on your shirt,” she said in borderline disgust.

I chuckled, taking note of my stained top and dishevelled state. “I’m going to take a quick shower.”

With barely a grunt of acknowledgement, I let her be, taking the baby monitor with me.

I quickly towelled myself off when an excited squeal sounded from the front of the house. I smiled and shook my head at Angelina’s enthusiasm, pivoting for the audio monitor to ensure Celeste hadn’t woken from the sound.

Five minutes later, I was dressed, wrapping my wet hair up in a towel, when a high-pitched whimper cut down the hallway.

Strange.

I found Angelina in the living room, curled into the couch corner, sobbing into her knees.

“Baby girl, what’s wrong?”

She lifted her distraught eyes to me, and a thick sense of foreboding sliced through my nervous system. My senses opened, searching for the mysterious danger I could feel in my bones. Then my girl confirmed my fears by voicing them into existence.

“I-I thought it was Austin,” she sputtered, barely coherent.

I kneeled before her, smoothing my hands over her trembling knees. “Tell me, Angel. You thought who was Austin?”

“I thought he knocked on the door… but it was someone else.”

Terror had my heart pummelling against my rib cage. “Did you open the door?”

A nod.

“Who was there, baby? And where are they now?”