It’s enough to know that I’m completely twisted.

Of course, Julian’s uncharacteristic gentleness in bed is not the only issue. Another casualty of his smothering concern for me is my self-defense training. It’s particularly frustrating because for the first time in weeks, I have energy. Sleeping well has reduced my fatigue, and schoolwork no longer tires me as much. I’ve even been able to resume running—after first pre-clearing the activity with the doctor, of course—but Julian refuses to let me do anything that could possibly result in bruises. Shooting is also out of the question; apparently, firing a gun releases lead particles that could, in some unknown quantity, harm the unborn baby.

There are so many restrictions it makes me want to scream.

“You know this is only temporary, Nora,” Ana says when I make the mistake of expressing my frustration to her at breakfast. “Just a few more months, and you’ll have a baby in your arms—and then it will all be worth it.”

I nod and paste a smile on my face, but the housekeeper’s words don’t cheer me up.

They fill me with dread.

In a little over seven months, I will be responsible for a child—and the idea terrifies me more than ever.

“You still haven’t told your parents about the baby?” Rosa gives me an astonished look as we leave the house to go for our morning walk.

“No,” I say, sipping a fruit smoothie with powdered vitamins. “I haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

“But I thought you talk to them every day.”

“I do, but the subject hasn’t come up.” I probably sound defensive, but I can’t help it. In terms of things I dread, telling my parents about my pregnancy is right up there with childbirth.

“Nora…” Rosa stops under a thick, vine-draped tree. “Are you worried they won’t be happy for you?”

I picture my dad’s probable reaction to learning that his not-quite-twenty-year-old daughter is pregnant with her kidnapper’s child. “You could say that.”

“But why wouldn’t they be happy?” My friend looks genuinely confused. “You’re married to a wealthy man who loves you and who’ll take good care of you and the child. What more could they want?”

“Well, for one thing, for me not to be married to said man at all,” I say drily. “Rosa, I told you our story. My parents aren’t exactly Julian’s biggest fans.”

Rosa waves a dismissive hand. “All that is—how do you say it?—water under the bridge. Who cares how it all began? What matters is the present, not the past.”

“Oh, sure. Seize the day and all that.”

“There’s no need to be sarcastic,” Rosa says as we resume our walk. “You should talk to your parents, Nora. It’s their grandchild. They deserve to know.”

“Yeah, I’ll probably tell them soon.” I take another sip of my smoothie. “I’ll have no choice.”

We walk in silence for a couple of minutes. Then Rosa asks quietly, “You really don’t want this child, do you, Nora?”