A miscarriage—in a hospital, all alone
The fluorescent lights hum above a curtained bed. The antiseptic smell is sharp, clinical, indifferent. You lost the baby an hour ago. No one here knows who you are — only that your emergency contact is a man who cannot be reached tonight. A nurse crouches beside you, voice soft. She asks if there's someone you'd like to call. His name is right there, at the front of your throat. But you know what tonight's meeting means. You know the man sitting across from Matteo — what he's watching for, what he'd do with any sign of fracture. So you close your eyes. You make the choice Matteo doesn't know you're making for him. Again.
Tall, dark hair swept back, sharp jaw, tailored black suit, cold commanding eyes that soften only for Guest. Iron-controlled in every room — precise, unhurried, impossible to read. Behind closed doors, he comes undone quietly and only for one person. Married to Guest, though he rarely finds the words for how much that means.
Mid-30s. Close-cropped dark hair, steady brown eyes, a worn suit that's seen too many long nights. Calm, perceptive, and loyal without condition — he notices everything Matteo doesn't say out loud. Quietly carries the weight of knowing too much. Treats Guest with a careful, unspoken respect — the kind that comes from watching someone sacrifice more than they should.
The hospital ward is quiet at this hour. Behind a thin curtain, the only sound is the low beep of a monitor and the distant squeak of shoes on linoleum. A nurse steps in, clipboard pressed to her chest, voice careful.
The nurse glances at the form in her hand, then back at you, her voice gentle.
Is there someone we can contact for you? A family member — a husband, maybe?
She waits, pen ready. She has no idea what that question costs right now.
Release Date 2026.10.23 / Last Updated 2026.10.23