SECRETS AND DREWS

The knock was repeated-insistent, firm. Her breath caught in her throat. She stood quickly, moving to the small window and peeking through the blinds.

Nothing. The hum of city traffic outside her window was constant. It was like the heartbeat of the city, steady, relentless, and unyielding, just like the life she had come to know. Marissa sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the cracked, chipped wallpaper peeling in the corners. The small apartment she had rented was nothing fancy, but it was a refuge in a world that had never offered her solace.

Her fingers grazed over the small, growing bump beneath her loose-fitting shirt. For a moment, she forgot who she was-forgot the past that kept clawing at her heels, trying to pull her back into its suffocating grasp.

She was tired. The weight of the past month's escape, running, and trying to stay hidden had drained her in ways she couldn't explain. Once bright with ambition and youthful innocence, her eyes had become shadows of their former selves. But in this small, lonely apartment, she finally allowed herself the illusion of peace.

Her hand trembled slightly as she pressed it against her belly. Inside her, life was growing small, fragile, and completely dependent on her. The realization should have brought comfort, but instead, it only intensified the fear in her chest.

What if I'm not enough?

The thought flitted through her mind, uninvited and unwelcome. She had escaped him, the man who had controlled her life for far too long, but now the stakes were higher. Now there was another person to protect. A child.

A sharp knock at the door snapped her out of her thoughts. Her pulse spiked, and she froze.

Just the usual bustling street below-people walking briskly, cars honking in frustration, the occasional siren wailing in the distance.

She exhaled, shaking her head as she stepped away from the window. Her nerves were getting the best of her. She had to stay calm.

But that wasn't always easy when you lived a life on the run.

Marissa's hand wandered to the small envelope on the table. It had been there for days, unopened. She didn't need to read it to know what it was-she already knew the words it would 

contain. The letter had been delivered by hand, no return address, and no name. It was from him.

I know where you are.

The mafia boss, Alessandro "Al" DeLuca. The man who had bought her, who had owned her for years. She could still remember the cold, calculating look in his eyes when he first laid eyes on her-like a wolf eyeing its prey, studying, calculating, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

It had been a life of luxury, power, and fear. His power. His control. Marissa had been just one of many women in his world, but she had become one of his favorites-one of the few he trusted with his most sensitive operations.

But that didn't mean he had ever stopped treating her like property.

And now, she is gone.

She had thought about taking the money-the sum that would set her free-but it had felt too much like a betrayal, too much like she was still under his thumb. Instead, she'd taken the documents. The valuable, damning documents that, if they ever fell into the wrong hands, could bring him to his knees.

She'd stolen from him, and she'd run.

The knock at the door came again, and this time she didn't hesitate. She grabbed the envelope from the table, slid it into her bag, and hurried toward the door. She needed to keep moving, keep herself busy, keep her mind occupied. She couldn't afford to let her fear take over.

Her hand rested on the doorknob, but she hesitated. A quick glance over her shoulder reminded her of the child she was carrying-the child who was, in some twisted way, her only reason for not going back.

I can't let him own this baby.

She opened the door.