He Left Me Pregnant and Grieving—Now He’s the One Begging - Chapter 70: Chapter 70

The memories were foggy, blurred at the edges, but I had always believed it was just a tragic accident. A cruel twist of fate. But now Lorenzo was telling me it was deliberate. That Darius had planned it. That he had nearly succeeded.
Lorenzo’s voice was lower now, laced with something I couldn’t place—anger? Fear? “I don’t know why he was at the party tonight. I don’t remember inviting him.”
He shot me a glance, his eyes filled with warning. “Promise me.”
I swallowed, trying to steady my thoughts. “What?”
“Promise me you’ll stay away from him.”
I hesitated. I didn’t know why.
Something deep inside me didn’t want to believe Lorenzo’s words.
Something about Darius tonight unsettled me, but not in the way it should have. His eyes. The way he looked at me. There was no hatred in them. No malice. Just something else.
Could someone who wanted me dead look at me like that?
But Lorenzo was the only one I knew. The only one I trusted.
I nodded slowly. “I promise.”
***
Lorenzo had been gone for two days on a business trip, and I had been trying my best to keep things normal. I focused on my daily routine, making sure Dorotheo was occupied, pushing away the thoughts that kept circling in my head. But no matter how much I tried, I couldn't stop thinking about Darius, about what happened at the party, about Lorenzo's warnings that still echoed in my mind.
The sound of a knock at the door snapped me out of my thoughts.
I should have checked the security monitor first. I should have taken a moment to think before acting. But I didn't. Instead, I walked straight to the door and pulled it open.
And there he was.
Darius Romano.
For a moment, I forgot how to breathe. His dark eyes locked onto mine, unreadable yet intense, carrying something beneath the surface that sent a shiver through me. My instinct screamed at me to move, to react, to do something, but my body refused to cooperate.
Then, suddenly, I did. I grabbed the door, ready to slam it shut—but before I could, his hand shot out, stopping it effortlessly.
"Valeria." His voice was deep and steady, and although it had been years, it still carried that same commanding presence that unsettled me.
My heart pounded as I tried to push the door closed, but his grip didn't budge. His strength was undeniable, but it wasn’t forceful—it was controlled, deliberate, like he wasn’t here to fight, but he wasn’t willing to walk away either.
"Wait," he said, his tone calm, though there was something beneath it that made my stomach twist.
"I don’t want trouble," I said quickly, my fingers curling around the door as I pushed harder.
His gaze stayed on mine, unwavering, as if searching for something in my expression. "Neither do I. But I had to see you."
"You’re not welcome here."
Before he could respond, a small voice suddenly interrupted us.
"Mister!"
My blood ran cold.
Dorotheo.
I turned just in time to see my son running straight toward Darius.
Panic surged through me, and I moved to grab him, but before I could, Darius crouched, catching him before he could fall. My breath caught in my throat as I watched Dorotheo beam up at him, completely unaware of the tension suffocating the air between us.
"Let’s play!" Dorotheo declared, his little hands tugging at Darius’s sleeve.
A fresh wave of panic crashed over me. "Dorotheo, come here!" I reached out, but he had already latched onto Darius’s hand, his excitement overriding my command.
Darius didn’t resist. He let himself be pulled forward, confusion flickering across his face, as if he didn’t understand why a child he had never met was acting so familiar with him.
"Wait—" I stepped forward, but it was too late. Dorotheo was already leading him toward the nursery.
My pulse pounded in my ears. There was a dangerous man inside my house, and my son—my innocent, trusting son—was with him.
Gripping my phone with trembling hands, I prepared to call Lorenzo. My fingers hovered over the screen, ready to dial, but just as I was about to press the button, I heard something that made me pause.
Laughter.
Not just any laughter.
Dorotheo’s pure, unrestrained laughter filled the room, the kind that was so rare, so precious, it nearly made my chest ache.
Slowly, I stepped toward the doorway, peeking inside.
Darius was sitting cross-legged on the floor, watching as Dorotheo excitedly showed him his toy cars.
"This one is the fastest!" Dorotheo declared, pushing a red car across the rug.
Darius let out a low chuckle, his voice softer now, lacking its usual edge. "Yeah? Let me see."
Without hesitation, Dorotheo handed him the toy, his eyes bright with excitement.
I froze. My son never warmed up to strangers this quickly. He had always been wary, always took his time before trusting someone new. But with Darius, it was different. It was natural.
"I’ll race you!" Dorotheo grabbed another car, grinning. "Three… two… one!"
The two cars zoomed forward, crashing into each other, and Dorotheo burst into another fit of laughter, completely oblivious to the storm of emotions raging inside me.
My heart clenched painfully.
I had never seen him this happy.
Then, just as I was about to step in and break whatever strange moment was happening, Darius looked up.
His gaze locked onto mine, and something shifted in his expression.
Recognition.
Like he had just found something he hadn't even realized he was searching for.
"Why do I feel like I know you?" His voice was quieter now, thoughtful.
My hands clenched at my sides. "You don’t."
He didn’t blink. "Then why does it feel like we have a connection?"
My breath hitched, but before I could answer, his gaze flicked to Dorotheo, who was eagerly setting up another race. A new expression crossed his face—one I couldn't quite decipher, something raw, something questioning.
"And him," he said slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why do I feel like he's my son?"
My stomach twisted so violently that for a moment, I thought I might be sick.
"Leave," I forced out.