Tess

Curran holds tight to my hand when the OB hospitalist, Dr. Tantillo, returns with an ultrasound. “I’m going to do an internal scan. You’ll feel some pressure, but if it becomes too painful, I need you to tell me, okay?”

“Okay,” I say, my voice trembling.

I scrunch my face as she inserts the probe, which does nothing to ease Curran’s stress. “What are you trying to see?” he asks, his voice tight.

“I want to see if there’s any internal damage and harm.”

“To the baby?”

“Yes,” she explains, patiently. “Along with the surrounding structures.” She advances the probe. “It will be difficult to see much since you’re not very far along, Tess….” Her voice trails, and although I keep my eyes closed, I can picture the smile behind her words. “Never mind. There is something to see.”

Curran’s breath hitches. “Oh, man,” he says. “There’s the heartbeat.”

With a shuddering breath, I open my eyes and turn to the screen. “There’s your baby,” the doctor says, pointing.

My eyes swell as I see the heart flicker rapidly. “Is he all right?” I ask, starting to tremble.

“Yes,” Dr. Tantillo answers. “He or she is a strong little one.”

Curran kisses my head when I start crying. “That’s our baby, Tess. Holy God, we made a kid!”

“There was bleeding,” I stammer.

The doctor nods, pointing to the screen. “It looks like there was some separation in the placenta, but it appears to be minimal and should repair itself. The area is very vascular and it also appears there was some rupturing in the lower uterine segment, but that should heal as well. Either way, I’d like to keep you overnight, and do another ultrasound in the morning.”

“He’s okay?” I ask again, too scared to believe it.

“So far, everything appears to be proceeding as it should. According to the scan, you’re about seven weeks along.” She removes the probe and covers me with a sheet after allowing me another look at our baby. She straightens my legs, then hands me a picture from the ultrasound exam. I can’t see much. But I see our little one, and for now it’s enough.

Dr. Tantillo smiles as I place the picture against my chest. “You took a bad fall, Tess. And to be honest, I’m surprised by how good things look. The ED doctor doesn’t believe you suffered any fractures or organ damage, but you need to take it easy these next few weeks.”

“Don’t worry. She will,” Curran assures her.

I wipe a few tears away. “Thank you, Dr. Tantillo.”

“You’re welcome,” she answers, standing to leave.

Curran stays with me all night, leaving only to speak to his family and show them the picture of “our boy,” even though it’s too early to know the sex.

The soreness along my back and shoulders and stiffness in my legs keep me awake. So does the confrontation with my father—his words, his actions, and his desperation to cling to his hold over me….My God, what kind of man does this?

Curran rises from the couch sometime close to dawn. “You’re not sleeping,” he says, coming to my side.

Neither is he, apparently. I inch over on the bed. “Will you lie with me?”

He slips beneath the bedcovers and curls his body against me. “Do you want to talk about what happened? I get the feeling you need to.”

I do, which is why I can’t sleep. I don’t like keeping secrets from Curran, not after all that we’ve shared, and all we’re becoming. But compared to all the things my father has done, this is by far the worst and the hardest to disclose.

I stroke his arm, the muscles dense beneath his blue shirt. He knows I fell in the back stairwell, and although he hasn’t pressed, he probably realizes I had a reason for being there.

“You’re not going to like what I have to tell you,” I say, quietly.

“Probably not. But I think you should tell me anyway. Don’t you?”

He’s right, but knowing so doesn’t soothe my unease. “I went back to my apartment to gather my clothes, and found my father waiting for me.” His muscles tense against me, but I continue, worried I’ll lose my nerve. “You were right about the ace up his sleeve. My father never paid for any of my law school expenses. He paid another student’s in exchange for U Penn giving me an extension on my costs. I’m now two hundred and forty thousand dollars in debt.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

I use the bedsheet to wipe my eyes. “No. He told me he’s willing to pay a portion for every event I attend with Spencer.”

Curran jerks up. “And what did you say to that?”

I ease into a sitting position, the stress and my exhaustion hitting me all at once. “I told him that I’d rather be in debt than ever do anything for him again.”

“What happened after that?” he asks when I pause.

He’s furious. And while I know his anger isn’t directed at me, it’s still hard to tell him what my father did. “He chased me into the stairwell, demanding that I reconsider. I know I shouldn’t have been in there, but I was trying to get away from him.”

Curran’s breaths release in short bursts. “Did he…did he push you?”

I nod, slowly.

“That son of a bitch.”

I snatch his arm when he tries to leave. “Baby, wait. I don’t know if he was trying to hurt me, or if he was upset and reacted—”

“I don’t care. He has no right putting his hands on you—or harassing you—or trying to pimp you out. Christ, do you realize what could have happened—what he could have cost us?”

“I do,” I say, my welling tears keeping him in place.

Something in my expression softens his. He returns to the bed, gathering me close. “Tell me what happened. All of it. Don’t leave anything out.”

His tone, while quiet, holds so much anger I can feel it. Just as I feel his warmth as he holds me. “Everything happened so fast,” I admit. “But he saw me fall, and he saw me hurt. And he didn’t help me. I was lying there, barely moving, and all he could think about was himself.” I sigh. “I don’t ever want to see him again.”

“Then you won’t.” His voice is absolute. I don’t have to convince him of anything.

I expect Curran to push for more information, and I expect him to tell me to press charges. But he doesn’t, and stays quiet. Maybe he realizes that more than anything now, I need him to lie beside me and comfort me with his presence.

I remember him cradling me against his broad chest. But I don’t remember sleeping. Yet I know I did, feeling that same security I’ve always felt in his arms.

The incoming nurse wakes me to check my vital signs sometime around eight. “Everything appears to be within normal limits,” she says. “I’ll phone the doctor and let her know. If she’s comfortable with her findings, she’ll probably send you home after your ultrasound.”

I rub my tired eyes, thankful there’s no evidence of any further bleeding. “Do you know how long it will be before she arrives?”

She makes a face. “I’m afraid it might be a few hours. She was paged to assist in an emergency surgery, and has several patients to round on.”

I rub Curran’s thigh when she leaves and motion to the tray of food in front of me. “Are you hungry?”

He frowns. “Yeah, but that’s for you.”

“I don’t feel like eating.”

“Tess,” he says.

“I’m serious—I’m feeling nauseous.” I try to smile. “But that’s a good thing, don’t you think?”

“That doesn’t mean I like it,” he tells me. “When was the last time you ate? It wasn’t dinner, ’cause I was here and you barely had more than two bites.” He slips his arm around me when I don’t answer. “I need you to be all right, you hear me? That’s not going to happen unless you eat.”

I know he’s right, but that doesn’t inspire my appetite, especially when Curran lifts the lid and shows me my not-so-spectacular feast. I cringe from it, fighting not to become ill. “It’s sausage and pancakes. It’ll be good for you,” he insists.

“It’s too heavy. Why don’t you eat it? You didn’t eat dinner either.”

He covers the food again. “What will you eat?”

Truthfully, I don’t think I can stomach much. But I also know he won’t eat without me. “Maybe a bagel, or some fruit.”

He pushes my hair away from my face. “What say I go to the cafeteria and see what I can find? When I get back, we’ll eat together, all right?”

I agree, mostly because I want Curran to eat. When he leaves, I go to the bathroom to freshen up and change into the sweatpants and T-shirt Wren brought me. I press my hand against my belly as I step out, thankful my baby’s still growing inside me.

My smile vanishes as I emerge from the bathroom and find my father waiting for me. “What are you doing here?”

He tightens his stance, annoyance appearing to be the dominant emotion clouding his features. “The apartment supervisor informed me you were taken away via ambulance yesterday. It took quite some time to locate your whereabouts.” His stare travels the length of my body. “It seems you gave your neighbors plenty to talk about.”

I’m not exactly sure what he means, nor do I care. He’s probably miffed at how the incident will reflect on him. But I’m counting on that. Until this moment, though, I didn’t realize just how much.

I release the handle to the bathroom door and step toward him, my ire blazing and raring for a fight. “I’m only here because of you. You pushed me down a flight of stairs and jeopardized my baby’s life.” Anger causes my voice to quiver, but it’s his look of stunned revulsion that boils my blood. “You didn’t know I’m pregnant. But there’s a lot you don’t know about me. Shall I enlighten you?” I nod as his eyes narrow further. “Yes, I think I should. The first thing you should know is that I’m filing charges against you for assault and harassment.”

“Against me? Go ahead and try,” he quips. “You’ll be laughed at, and any pitiable charge against me dismissed.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, I’m interning for the office whose primary role is to investigate such charges. Unlike in your presence, I have a voice there. But it’s not simply the criminal matters that should concern you. That’s only the beginning. I’m also bringing a civil suit against you.”

“It was an accident, Contessa!”

“No, it wasn’t. And if you think the lawsuit involves this event alone, you are very much mistaken. I’m suing you for decades of financial and emotional abuse—your persistent vying for control, your ongoing harassment, your wretched cruelty, and the disgusting way you’ve used me for political gain. Everyone will know of it—everyone. Even those you consider so far beneath you.”

He fixes me with a scowl, but then laughs. “You want to play games, little girl—fine. We shall play them. My legal team will tear you apart.”

My steps are slow and purposeful. After what he did, and how he almost cost me my child, I’m no longer afraid. I’m angry. This man has caused me nothing but harm. “I’m not a little girl. I’m a woman with the best legal education money can buy. You think your attorneys are good, wait until you see me in action. There’s a reason I graduated at the top of my class.”

He looms over me, trying to force me to cower, exactly as he’s done all my life. This time, he doesn’t succeed, and he doesn’t like it one bit. “You’ll never win,” he grinds out.

“It’s not about winning. It’s about showing the world who Donald Newart really is. You’ve taken everything from me. But I assure you it ends today, and I swear to God so will your reputation when I’m done with you. Good luck in court, and with your involvement in Spencer’s campaign. You’re going to need it.”

“You wretched—”

“I would seriously watch the next few words that come out of your mouth,” Curran warns. He stands in the doorway with Killian, and with his other brothers directly behind him. It seems he never made it to the cafeteria, and that he and his family heard our conversation.

Menace drips like tar in the way Curran regards my father. He marches toward him, his mere presence forcing Father to edge aside, and away from me. Killian’s rigid grasp to his shoulder holds him in place, but just barely. I clutch Curran’s hand, fearing what will happen if he strays within reach of my father.

Curran takes a controlled breath, keeping his glare trained on my father as he places his arm around me.

The remaining O’Briens pile forward, appearing to overtake the entire room, their sheer numbers compelling my father further toward the exit. Curran’s attention never wavers. “You hurt Tess and jeopardized our baby’s life,” he tells him, his voice so lethal it’s almost too much to bear.

An odd sense of recognition tightens the hard lines in my father’s scowl. He finally realizes who Curran is. “I didn’t know she was pregnant. But it shouldn’t surprise me given your past,” he sneers.

If it weren’t for the firm press of my hand to his chest, Curran would have stormed forward and pummeled him, I’m sure of it.

“I don’t believe we’ve officially met,” Declan says, stepping in front of him. “I’m Assistant District Attorney Declan O’Brien. I should inform you that my office will investigate any and all criminal charges my future sister-in-law brings forward, and offer our support any way we can. I should also inform you that whether you were aware of her pregnancy or not, you pushed her down a flight of steps, risking her and her unborn child’s lives. Some, like me, would argue it was attempted murder. How do you think your legal team—or for that matter, a civil or criminal jury—might interpret your actions, given your history of mistreatment?”

The color drains from my father’s face. He turns on his heel, but Curran’s voice freezes him in place. “Hey, Newart. Just so you know, if you ever make my girl cry again, these legal charges will be the least of your worries.”

I lean heavily into Curran when Father stomps away. I’m not sure why he came, but informing him that I’m bringing legal action against him has put a dent in his plans.

Curran’s family closes their circle around us, speaking quietly. Their support and kindness mean a great deal; so does Curran’s love. Given my encounter with my father, I’m not sure how I would be holding up without them.

Never mind; I’m not holding up. I start to cry against Curran’s chest, not because I’m scared, but because I’m relieved. Regardless of the stress my legal actions will cause, for the first time, I feel a sense of control, but more important, peace.

And I have Curran’s love to thank for it.