The temptation of my brother-in-law-Chapter 181 - One Hundred and Eighty-One

Chapter One Hundred and Eighty-One

Alicia’s POV

The doctor’s office was small but clean. Sterile white walls. The faint smell of antiseptic. A calendar on the wall showing February.

I sat on the examination table, paper crinkling beneath me, while the doctor reviewed my chart.

Alessandro had insisted on bringing me. Had made the appointment himself after I’d fainted at the estate. He sat in the corner now, looking uncomfortable but determined.

"Your vitals look better," the doctor said in accented English. "The dehydration has improved. Blood pressure is still a bit low, but within acceptable range."

"That’s good."

"Yes. But I’m concerned about the malnutrition. You’re not eating enough for someone in your condition." 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

"I’ve been trying. The nausea—"

"I understand. But you need to find foods you can tolerate. Small meals throughout the day. Plenty of water." She looked at me over her reading glasses. "This isn’t just about you anymore. The baby needs proper nutrition to develop."

I nodded. Put my hand on my stomach out of habit.

"Speaking of which, I’d like to do a more thorough examination. Get a complete medical history. Family history especially, to check for any genetic concerns."

My chest tightened. "I don’t have much family history."

"What about your mother? Any complications during her pregnancies?"

"She died giving birth to my younger brother. He died too."

The doctor’s expression softened. "I’m so sorry. That must have been very difficult."

"It was a long time ago."

"Still, it’s important information. Do you have any medical records from her pregnancy? Hospital records? Anything that might tell us what went wrong?"

I shook my head. "We didn’t keep things like that. And even if we did, it was in America. I don’t have access to any of it now."

Alessandro spoke up from the corner. "What if the pregnancy wasn’t in America?"

I looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"What if your mother gave birth here? In Italy? If she did, there might be records in the hospital system."

"Why would she give birth in Italy? We’re American."

"Are you sure about that?"

There was something in his voice. Something careful. Like he knew something I didn’t.

The doctor looked between us. "If there’s a possibility your mother had medical care in Italy, I can search the system. It’s all connected now. Digital records going back thirty years. What was her name?"

I hesitated. "Alicia. Like me. Well, that was her married name anyway."

"And her maiden name?"

"I don’t know. She never talked about her family. Said they’d disowned her."

Alessandro pulled out his phone. "Let me make a call. I might be able to help."

He stepped outside. I could hear him speaking rapid Italian through the door.

The doctor continued her examination. Blood pressure. Heart rate. Weight. All the routine things.

"The baby’s heartbeat is strong," she said, pressing the doppler against my stomach. "Right on track for eight weeks."

Eight weeks. Two months since that last night with Malachi. Since everything had fallen apart.

I wondered if he’d found out yet. If his people had tracked me to Italy. If he knew about the baby.

Probably not. If he knew, he’d already be here. Demanding. Controlling. Taking over like he always did.

The thought should have made me angry. Instead, it just made me tired.

Alessandro came back in. His face was different. Careful. Like he was holding something back.

"I called my mother. She has connections with the hospital administration. If your mother had any medical care in the Italian system, we’ll find it."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because you work for my family. We take care of our people."

It was a reasonable answer. So why did it feel like he was lying?

The doctor finished her examination. "Everything looks good. The baby is developing normally. Just focus on eating and resting. And please, no more heavy physical labor."

"I’ll make sure of it," Alessandro said.

We left the clinic. The drive back to the estate was quiet. Alessandro kept glancing at me like he wanted to say something but couldn’t figure out how.

"What?" I finally asked.

"Nothing. Just glad you’re okay."

"Alessandro."

He sighed. Pulled the car over to the side of the road. Put it in park.

"My mother is going to call me soon. When she does, she might have found something. Something about your mother’s medical records."

"Okay?"

"I just want you to be prepared. In case the information is... surprising."

"Surprising how?"

"Just be prepared."

His phone rang before I could push further. He answered in Italian. Listened. His face went pale.

He hung up. Stared straight ahead through the windshield.

"Alessandro, you’re scaring me."

"My mother found records. For a woman who gave birth at the regional hospital twenty-five years ago. The name in the system is different from what you told me. Not Alicia."

My heart started pounding. "What name?"

"Giuliana. Giuliana Moretti."

The world tilted. "That’s not possible."

"The hospital keeps photos. For identification purposes. My mother had them send one over."

He pulled up his phone. Showed me the screen.

It was a hospital photo. A young woman holding a newborn baby. She looked exhausted. Happy. Alive.

It was my mother.

Exactly my mother. Her face. Her eyes. Her smile.

But the name underneath said Giuliana Moretti.

"I don’t understand," I whispered.

"That’s my sister, Alicia. The sister who died. Or who we thought died. That’s Giuliana."

I stared at the photo. At my mother’s face.

"Your sister?"

"She ran away twenty-five years ago. Eloped with a man we didn’t approve of. Cut off all contact with the family. We hired investigators but she disappeared completely. Changed her name. Started a new life."

My mother. My mother had run from wealth. From family. From a life that was chosen for her.

Just like I had.

"She died some years ago," Alessandro continued. "We got word of a car accident. A woman matching her description. We held a funeral even though we never saw the body."

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

My mother was Giuliana Moretti. Which meant...

"You’re my niece," Alessandro said quietly. "You and Sophie. You’re family."

The edges of my vision went dark. I gripped the dashboard.

"Alicia? Alicia, breathe."

I tried. Couldn’t. My chest was too tight.

Alessandro pulled me toward him. Made me put my head between my knees. "Breathe. Slow. In and out."

I focused on breathing. On the feeling of his hand on my back. On the solid reality of the car beneath me.

Slowly, the dizziness faded.

"I need to go back to the estate," I said. "I need to talk to your mother."

"Our mother. She’s your grandmother, Alicia."

Grandmother. The word didn’t feel real.

We drove the rest of the way in silence. My mind was spinning. Trying to process what this meant.

I’d been working as a maid in my own family’s house. My grandmother had been the one who’d mistaken me for her daughter. Because I looked exactly like her.

Because I was her granddaughter.

Francesca had slapped her own niece.

Alessandro had been developing feelings for his niece.

Oh god.