Chapter 6 - A Mother’s Pride
Three weeks passed in tranquility.
The Romano Estate became a sanctuary for Abigail. Under the care of world-class doctors and nutritionists, her health improved dramatically. The dark circles under her eyes disappeared, replaced by a radiant, healthy pregnancy glow.
Isabella took Abigail shopping at the most exclusive boutiques on Newbury Street—clearing out stores to stock the estate’s newly decorated nursery with handcrafted wooden cribs, organic cotton clothes, and silver rattles.
Yet, despite the overwhelming generosity, Abigail felt a quiet ache inside her heart.
She sat on the garden bench in the rose estate, looking out over the water, when Matteo walked up behind her.
“You look thoughtful,” he said softly, sitting down beside her.
“I was just thinking about how strange life is,” Abigail smiled gently. “A month ago, I was counting quarters to buy cereal. Now I’m living in a palace.”
“You belong here, Abigail,” Matteo said sincerely.
“No, Matteo,” she looked at him, her warm brown eyes meeting his grey ones. “I am so deeply grateful to you and Isabella. But I’m not a princess. I’m a woman who wants to earn her own way. I want my daughter to grow up seeing her mother work, build a life, and stand on her own two feet.”
Matteo listened quietly, a profound respect blooming in his chest. Most people in his world used him for power, money, or protection. But Abigail wanted none of his empire—she only wanted her dignity.
“I respect that,” Matteo said quietly. “More than you know. Which is why I have a proposal for you.”
He pulled a gold key from his pocket, setting it in her palm.
“What is this?” she asked.
“The bakery on 4th Street—La Maison de Sucre,” Matteo explained. “The owner retired last month. I bought the property and registered the business under your name. It has a modern kitchen, a steady clientele, and a beautiful three-bedroom apartment on the top floor.”
Abigail’s breath hitched. “Matteo... a bakery? But I can’t afford to buy a business from you!”
“It’s not a gift, Abigail. It’s an investment,” Matteo smiled warmly—a rare, breathtaking smile that reached his eyes. “You will pay me back ten percent of the monthly profits once the baby is born and the bakery opens. You run it. You hire the staff. You own it hundred percent.”
Tears spilled over Abigail’s lashes. She threw her arms around Matteo’s neck, hugging him tightly. “Thank you... thank you so much, Matteo!”
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Matteo froze for a fraction of a second, surprised by the sudden warmth of her embrace, before wrapping his strong arms around her waist, inhaling the sweet scent of her jasmine shampoo.
He held her carefully, minding her rounded belly, feeling an overwhelming urge to protect this woman and her child for the rest of his life.
