Someone’s Someone

by Curious Girl

I've always been someone's someone. I will always be known as the sister of. The sister of the wonder child; the sister of the Nobel prize laureate; the sister of Princess Anastasia of Romanov; the sister of the next Queen of England; the sister of the Olympian... and the daughter of Troy and Gabriella Bolton. But I am so much more. I am Josephine Bolton.

45. Chapter 45

Josephine

I don't dare to move ever since I came home from the hospital. Waking up to so much blood, feeling so many emotions at once... I don't ever want to experience that again.

It was hell on earth.

Being admitted to the Lindo Wing at three in the morning was an experience as such. The elite birthing wing of St. Mary's was where I was born, but to me it felt like going into Hades' underworld. Everything went in slow motion and fast forward at the same time. All I felt was pain, all I did was pray for them to somehow be alive.

A doctor that had the night shift did an internal ultrasound on me. I forgot her name, but I will never forget the shock in her eyes when she saw that our two babies were still very much alive. Alive!

It was a ruptured blood clot that caused the bleeding. A blood clot forms to try to repair damage to a blood vessel, either an artery or vein. When the doctor explained it to me, I understood exactly what caused the blood clot to form. It was created by the rapists. And the stress of the last days, including Rothschild's bombshell interview, caused it to rupture.

I was not wrong. Rothschild did try to cause this miscarriage. Twice.

The examination showed that my cervix is completely closed, which is good. It means my babies are safe.

My babies are alive!

"Tesoro,"

I tear my eyes off of the window front and the heavy snow fall that's been going on for the last hours. I don't even know how long I've been sitting here. But I saw the sunrise and saw how the snow started falling before erupting into a rather heavy snowfall. "Yes?"

My husband looks at me with worry filled in his emerald green eyes. "You should eat something."

"I'm not hungry." I insist. I haven't felt hungry or sick in the last hours. Because I have never been more scared in my whole life. I've done a lot of shit in my life. I've risked my life more than once but the idea of losing them... of losing mine and Oliver's babies... the products of our love... it's a fear I've never felt before.

And it just dawns on me that this is the fear of a mother.

A mother.

My husband sits down on the sofa next to me. "Don't do it for yourself. Do it for our babies. They need fuel. They need nutrients to grow and develop."

In other words, they need to stay alive.

"Okay. Maybe some toast."

"How about an omelette with veggies?" My husband offers me instead.

I decide to give in. "Okay. With extra olives and tomatoes please."

My husband smiles. It's the first smile I saw on his face apart from the relieved smile I got to witness when the doctor told us our babies were still alive. I felt the fear of a mother. And Oliver felt the fear of a father.

We're already parents to these tiny babies growing in my belly.

He rises from the sofa but I grab his hand.

"I love you, Darling."

"I love you, too."

"I'm going to do everything in my power to keep them alive." I promise him with trembling lips.

A second later Oliver has embraced me tightly. "Josephine, the last miscarriage wasn't your fault."

"But it was. I know it deep in my heart." I insist as I rest my chin on his left shoulder.

"No, it wasn't." My husband disagrees with me before leaning back so we look at each other. "It was God's way to show us we had a potential that goes beyond you and I. These two you're carrying now, are his gift to us. After all the research I've done about pregnancy there is one thing I came across again and again. And it's that getting pregnant is not as easy as you think. It can take years of trying until that one single egg gets fertilised on time. And even then one third of the pregnancies end before the end of the first trimester." he explains to me while running his hands down and up my arms to calm me down. "Our babies, our twins... these two are already true Boltons. They are fighters. They want to stay alive. And they will get born. These two are God's gift to us. One to make up for the one we lost and one on top. I love these babies so much."

I kiss him softly because no words can describe my feelings for this man and our two unborn children.

Oliver

I wait until my wife has fallen asleep before I get up from the sofa and pick up my iPhone from the glass coffee table. I walk over to the glass front and look at St. Paul's that's covered in snow. The clouds are pregnant with another load of snow. Before I met my wife I never knew how pregnant clouds looked like. I only knew pitch black clouds that would flood my hometown. But these clouds are definitely pregnant with snow. Pregnant...

I look over my shoulder and stare at my sleeping wife. She's curled up into a ball on the sofa with a blanket covering her body. The flames are still dancing in the open fireplaces behind her.

Last night was by far the worst night of my life. I thought getting woken up by Della and finding out my wife got raped was the worst night of my life, but I was wrong.

Last night was the worst night of my life.

When Josephine woke me up... and I saw the blood on her pants... and the blood on our bedsheets... the fear I felt was indescribable. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. I could only function.

I don't even remember how we got to the hospital. I don't remember the car ride, or what I said when I admitted her to the maternity ward or how the nurse looked like that lead us to our room. I just remember that fear. I never want to feel this feeling again.

And then when the doctor told us it was 'just' a blood clot that ruptured, I couldn't believe our luck! I couldn't believe my ears. The doctor did an ultrasound again to show us our babies are fine. Indeed, they were fine. Their heartbeats were strong. Their bodies looked perfectly developed for 13 weeks. They survived.

They survived more than anyone ever should.

"Hello?" I can hear the deep voice of my brother-in-law.

"I want you to kill him." I tell him before tearing my eyes off of my wife. No one will ever hurt my wife as much as Rothschild has. "I don't care how or when or where. But I want him gone."

"It's not so easy." Wladimir's Russian accent fills my ears. It's a weird combination, a Hispanic related to a Russian. But I've come to embrace the differences that make this family so unique.

"Then make it easy. I will not allow him to hurt her again."

"What happened?"

"She nearly miscarried last night." I whisper with a tight throat.

"Fuck. Because of Rothschild?"

"It was a blood clot that ruptured. Apparently it formed when she got raped."

I hiss through my clenched teeth. "Wlad, this can't go on anymore. I want him gone."

"Oliver, listen to me. I understand your point of you, trust me I do, but what you're asking of me is impossible."

"Why?! You killed men before!"

"There's a difference between killing bad guys, killing mafia members, and killing a Rothschild family member. We can't kill him. His family rules the world's economy. They hold the reins. They are above any politician, any royal, any thinkable position. They are the head of the world. We can't take him down. It would cause an economic crisis that the world has never seen before. Stock markets would have to close for maybe a year. The whole world would come to a still. People would loose their jobs, families their homes... the butterfly effect would be immense."

Shit. I had no idea Edward's this powerful! His family fucking rules the world! "Then what do you suggest?"

"Go some place that helps her relax." Wlad tells me.

He can't be bloody serious! I look at my sleeping wife again. "Honestly, I don't know if she can fly anymore. We wanted to jet off to Bora Bora the day after Christmas Day but now... now I think it may be better to stay at home." Especially when I remember how awful the flight back home from French Cay was.

"What did the doctor say about the trip?"

"She said if Josephine was feeling fine than there's nothing against it."

"Well, Jo always felt the most relaxed at a beach, on a horse or with her family."

"But what if something goes wrong on the flight? There's no doctor flying with us and I have no medical education!"

"It's your decision."

"If we cancel that trip she's going to be stuck in our penthouse."

"You can always drive to Dover or Swansea."

"Josephine was so excited for the trip to Bora Bora..." I sigh. "I don't know what to do."

"You can always cancel the trip a few hours before takeoff. Wait and see how the next few days are going to unfold. What's clear to me is that Jo needs a distraction. She needs to be as far away as possible from Edward Rothschild."

Except Edward Rothschild seems to be a dark cloud that follows her everywhere.

Josephine

I walk through the narrow and dirty streets of Rocinha. The sun is hitting my head mercilessly, it's humid and hot. I don't know how he lives here. Here, between used syringes and open bottles of alcohol. This place is rubbish! But Rocinha is bloody alive. Everywhere are people on motorcycles or people on the streets. Cars drive through like they own the streets. It's absolutely chaotic! Getting killed by a vehicle is probably the biggest cause of death here. There are tiny narrow alleys with hundreds of steps between the houses that look like they might fall apart any second. I walk through the mud and dirt, passing many homes that consist of crate boards, clad canisters, palm leaves and plastic bags. There are no roofs here, no real walls - nothing but trash and drugs. There's no water, toilets, electricity and transportation. Most people I've come across here don't even own shoes and their clothes were ripped - ripped in a way that wasn't fashionable. The alleys between the closely packed houses are so narrow that I wonder how anyone bigger than me can walk through here. The houses lack windows, dirt is on the floor. There are leaky walls and roofs, if there are roofs and walls. The homes are overcrowded with up to twenty people living in the tiny one room houses. It's a maze full of horrific images. Child labour is common here, I'm sure. The kids here probably don't even know what a school is. I feel sick. I can't believe Oliver is from here.

After another 45 minutes and zillion steps, I reach a part of the favela that has houses with actual roofs and obsolete asphalted streets. Huge water tanks are placed on the roofs, so I'm guessing the people use the rainwater for showering, cleaning and perhaps even drinking. Problem is, we're in the middle of summer and the water tanks are almost always empty.

There is no rain. There hasn't been in months.

Some houses have satellites and I can even hear a few TVs as I continue with my walk. So this part of the favela has electricity. Maybe even toilets. But probably no internet. The electricity wires are hanging everywhere above my head and especially in one of the millions alleys that are between the houses. It's chaotic and dangerous. Some houses blackened with soot, but people still live there. Because they have nowhere else to go.

I walk past something the people here would call shops. There's even a hair dresser, so there must be some kind of water supply. Kids are playing next to the streets, but not with a ball or toys. They're using rubbish they found somewhere. Cars and motorcycles are rushing by me, honking when they see me.

There are 763 favelas in Rio, 220 of these are getting controlled by the police. The rest gets forgotten, the people there are left on their own. Of course, this is a place without police. Why couldn't this be a bit safer?! Some kids are running around with weapons. Other places I walk by are making drugs to sell it to the rich.

I stop at one of the prettier houses after another 45 minute walk. The house is still plain, held in a light grey colour that's not paint but the concrete that the house is made of. It's also quite high because the citizens have to pay per square metre, so they try to keep the costs at a minimum to finance something that's not even worth called life. I don't even know if I can call it a house. It has no doors and the windows are just large holes that have been hit through the concrete. Yes, it looks better than the places I've seen but it's not... it shouldn't be called a home. These conditions he lives in here are so badly that I want to cry. Actually cry.

My heart clenches at the image in front of me. I can't believe people call this a home. Suddenly, I feel bad for my wealth. How can I live in a penthouse with a view over the Thames when people live like this here at the other end of the world?

It's horrible. Scary.

Heartbreaking.

No wonder Daddy didn't let me travel to Rio without six security men. I thought he was being ridiculous but he had a point. This place is not for someone like me.

It isn't a place for Oliver either.

I inhale deeply before walking over to the door and knocking three times. At least, his place has a door. There are holes in the walls that function as windows, but there's a door. It won't keep thieves away, but I guess they're not afraid to get robbed, because there's nothing that could be of any use to anyone anyway. You rob the people that are wealthier than you, not poorer. The sound of a honking motorcycle fills my ears as the half broken door swings open.

And I stand across a man I thought I'd never see again. "Jo,"

My eyes can't believe what they're seeing, so it takes my brain a moment to catch up with the image in front of me. Oliver's beach blond hair is nearly reaching his shoulders, his beard is so long and dense that I can't even see his lips. His skin is the darkest it's ever been, it's a deep caramel tone. His smell starts filling my nostrils. The smell of cosy nights in front of the open fireplace while it's snowing outside. The smell of safety. "Oliver,"

"What the fuck are you doing here?!" He asks me with anger in his pine green eyes. He is still the most beautiful man I've ever seen, despite his current state.

I gulp down the tears that formed in my eyes from this mental slap. I expected a not so nice reaction from him, but not this anger and hostility. "I'm here because of you."

"I didn't ask you to come here. Fuck, we broke up! You pushed me away!" He hisses at me.

"I know and I'm here to explain myself. Can I come in?"

"No! You didn't want me, Jo. And you made yourself very clear. I moved on and you should, too."

I thought I did, but turns out I'm still hanging on to him. "Y-you moved on?"

He rolls his pine green eyes at me question, "I don't wait around. I wanted to settle with you, but you clearly didn't. So yes, I moved on."

That's even a harder message to digest than his anger. It feels like a punch in my stomach. It's so hard that I can't breathe for a moment. "You're seeing someone?"

He runs his hands through his beach blond hair,"Yes. It's been over three years. I never thought I'd see you again."

"Do you... do you love her?" The question pains me to ask, but I have to know. I have to know if there's still a chance.

"I don't know if I feel love. But it's enough to want to stay with her and raise a family."

Raise a family. I never wanted to have kids. But he did. He wanted a whole soccer team. But I didn't. And now he's having it with someone else.

With someone that's not me.

Suddenly, his pine green eyes look at my left hand. He notices the marks of my wedding and engagement rings. I left them in the safe of the hotel, because this clearly not a place for such things. "You're married as well."

I don't know if he saw the news, if he has even internet in this place... "Yes."

"Is it that Edward guy? The one you betrayed me with twice?"

Shit, this makes it sound even worse. "I want to divorce him. If you take me back."

"I'm not your puppet, Jo. You just want me again because you got bored with him!"

"That's not true!"

"Is it not?! You betrayed me with him! Two bloody times! Because clearly I wasn't enough, just like he isn't enough for you now."

I slept with Ed because I was sacred of the feelings that Oliver made me feel. It took me too long to realise Ed was never going to make me feel these feelings. "Oliver,"

"Fuck you! Stay the fuck away from me! Go back to London and live in fucking Belgravia or whatever posh neighbourhood you're living in with him! You didn't want me and you can't show up here three years later, asking for I don't know what! You deserve each other, you really do!"

I bite on my lower lip as it starts trembling. My throat tightens as tears start burning in my eyes. I have to get away from here. I'm ruining his luck, his chance to have a family and to love and be loved back. I'm ruining his chance to have everything he always wanted to have with me, but couldn't have. Because I was too cold hearted, stubborn and different.

We're from two different worlds.

We don't belong together.

---

I turn around in my bed and look at the man next to me. Tabloids all over the world called him the sexiest bachelor alive. Now, he's the sexiest husband alive. I run my left fingers through his short bright blond hair and my engagement ring as well as wedding band get stuck in his hair like they always do. With so many stones on just my engagement ring, it's no wonder. It's a huge masterpiece that was created by Harry Winston. An enormous emerald-cut vivid yellow diamond centre stone that is surrounded with 42 marquise, pear-shaped and round brilliant diamonds. It's worth over 16 million pounds.

It's just one sign to show my status. I'm on top of the world. The richest woman alive. It's a position I never dreamed about.

My husband opens his eyes as I try to pull his hair out of my rings. The turquoise colour is fogged but the smile on his lips show me that he's not mad with me.

"Sorry." I apologise as I successfully pull my hand back. "We should bring the rings to the jeweller and ask him to polish the edges again."

"No, I like it that way. At least, this is how I know you're still by my side." Edward whispers back.

I look at my rings again. They're sparkling more than the stars and moon in the night sky. I can't believe we've been married for half a decade already. The last five years went by too fast.

But there's still not a single night when I don't dream of Oliver.

I can't let him go, but I have learned how to live with the pain. It's a reminder of what I screwed up. It's a reminder of the biggest mistake of my life.

Edward grabs my hand and has a closer look at the rings. "Maybe we should have them cleaned and polished again." He thinks out loud, "People will want to look at the rings again at our fifth year anniversary party."

It was another idea of Hannah. She uses every occasion to throw a big party, to invite my family - making sure the Royals attend - and the world's most influential people. It's a mingle of 200-300 hundred people, set on a different location every time. Last year for Ed's birthday it was Fiji. Our fourth anniversary was spent in Paris. The third was a party at the Rothschild estate in the Provence. And the second anniversary was a big party at the Ritz Carlton here in London. This year, for our big fifth anniversary, it's the Côte d'Azur on a yacht in Monaco. I offered my yacht, that I named Liberty, but she insisted it was too small and not pretty enough.

Over the years, I gave up fighting my mother-in-law. It's wasted energy and time.

I look at my husband's eyes, "Hannah's going to start swirling rumours about a pregnancy again."

"I know. I talked to her but she... she just wants grandchildren so badly, Josie."

"I don't want children." Not with Edward. Maybe I would have changed my mind with Oliver, but definitely not with Edward and his monster-in-law mother.

"And I told you, I'm fine with that." But his eyes tell me a completely different story. It's been five years since he started looking at me like that. It's a gaze that shows me how badly he wants someone running through our house in Belgravia with his and mine DNA.

But every time I picture a child, it has green eyes, caramel coloured skin and blond curls. It's Oliver's, not Ed's.

"Except Hannah doesn't understand that."

"I told her we're busy leading our family's companies. Our hearts are with our work."

"And how long are you going to tell her that?"

"Until she's laying in her deathbed."

I look at the ceiling and stare at the large plaster ceiling rose, that's so typical for these Victorian buildings in Belgravia, out of which a glittering crystal chandelier is hanging from. The white ceiling rose is full of beautiful roses but every time I look at it, I see stunning orchids. I see the national flower of Brazil.

I see Oliver.

He's everywhere, in every ceiling rose, in every marbled tile in the bathroom, in every bathtub, kitchen stove and transom window. I can't escape him. And I've learned to cherish it, instead of fight it. Jus like the pain I always feel.

Suddenly, Ed comes into my view as he climbs on top of me. Sex is a rarity in our marriage but I don't mind it. It's not the same as with Oliver anyway. It's not explosive, it's not world changing... I don't see fireworks when I come - if I come.

But that's okay. Because I know Oliver's happy wherever he is in Rio. He's got his picture perfect wife with his picture perfect children.

He's got the family I never could have given him.

---

I open the door of the little cafe in Battersea that's right next to Battersea Park. Families are here to enjoy breakfast with a breathtaking view over the river Thames along with a few students that work on their laptops and even a few business men who hide behind their newspapers. The families are probably heading to the zoo afterwards. It's loud and chaotic.

Just like on the morning when I met Oliver.

I know I shouldn't be here, but I just can't help myself. I go here every Sunday morning and buy myself a tall cappuccino and a blueberry cupcake. I can't drink double espressos anymore. I only drink cappuccinos since we broke up.

I pay for my cappuccino and blueberry cupcake before walking out of the cafe and sitting down at one of the benches that are facing the river Thames. It's ironic that today is my wedding anniversary. I married Edward a year after I met Oliver. Exactly on this day six years ago, I met Oliver in the cafe behind me. I paid for his cappuccino without blinking. I didn't even give Oliver the attention he deserved, I just shrugged him off when he offered to pay me back the next Sunday. To me, he was just any other man. I had no idea the potential we had.

I still don't know the full potential because I was a coward and pushed him all the way back to Rio.

And a year later I married Edward in a wedding ceremony that was truly fit for a Royal. It catapulted us into a stardom we didn't see coming. It opened doors that I didn't think could have been opened.

But this day... this day will forever remind me of Oliver. I chose the wedding date subconsciously and the irony didn't catch up with me until today.

The realisation only strengthens the pain in my chest that's been there since I broke up with Oliver.

"Mrs. Rothschild," Ralph's voice cuts through the air.

I wince at the mention of my last name. I've been called Mrs. Rothschild for five years now, but it still feels foreign to me. Giving up my last name was the second toughest decision I ever had to make.

Breaking up with Oliver was the toughest.

"We have a flight to catch."

Right. Monaco. The yacht party with all socialites and Royals from all over the world. My fifth wedding anniversary. I nod and rise from the wooden bench. It's time to be a Rothschild again. "Is Edward going to meet us on the tarmac?"

"No, we're flying alone. Apparently, he took a flight earlier today, to make sure the employees decorate everything properly."

He's doing that for me. I hate these parties, so I let Hannah organise everything. Edward's always by her side because I hate having to think about flowers, proper crystal champagne flutes and finger food. "Okay. Can we stop by Landmark Place before heading to the tarmac?"

"Of course."

---

I stare at my reflection in the golden doors of the lift as it brings me to my penthouse. My chestnut hair is sleek, straight and freshly cut. I get the ends trimmed every six weeks, so there's never a split end that might ruin the appearance of the perfectly polished hair. It stops just below my boobs. My face is perfectly plastered with makeup, eyeshadow, mascara, blush and perfectly glossy lips. The makeup is so heavy that it hides my birthmarks completely. I'm dressed in a blue ensemble by Chanel. My earlobes are glittering with diamond stud earrings, there's a pearl necklace around my neck and another heavily sparkling diamond bracelet on my right wrist, right next to my diamond covered OMEGA watch. My perfectly manicured fingers fit to my perfectly pedicured toes, which are hidden in ten inch stilettos.

I don't recognise the woman that's staring back at me.

This is a Rothschild wife.

The golden doors of my lift open with a quiet ping. I step out of the lift and into my penthouse at Landmark Place. I couldn't bring myself to sell this place, or the flat a few levels below this penthouse. I kept both places.

Maybe because I started to thrive on the pain they give me. I didn't change a thing about this place. It's still the same hardwood floor, the same sofa, dining table, kitchen, master bedroom and ensuite bathroom. Flor, my maid from Venezuela, still cleans this place every week. Every time I walk in here, it feels like going back in time.

Just like in my dreams when I dance with Oliver in this very living room, with that view over London at night.

I don't know why I keep doing this to myself. Maybe because Oliver was the best that's ever happened to me. But I pushed him away.

At least this was I can remain close to him. I am holding on to every little detail that reminds me of him. Every photo I ever took of him is hidden in my safe in my study. Every dish we ever cooked together is save in my heart.

Suddenly, his smell starts filling my nostrils. Today's a very bad day. Every time the pain in my chest becomes too much, I escape to this place and cry in my old bed, while Edward thinks I'm pulling all-nighters at the Bolton Foundation.

But I can't do that tonight. I have a party to attend. My fifth wedding anniversary party. I have socialising to do, I have royals to greet. I have to be the wife I signed up for when I put my signature in the prenup.

I inhale deeply and pull myself together as I stare at my hometown through the floor to ceiling window front. Oliver's favourite building is the London Eye. I promised him to take him on a ride, but that never happened.

Just like we never really happened.

"Josephine,"

Gosh, today's a very bad day if I start hearing his lion-like voice. I miss this roaring voice so much! I pinch the bridge of my nose, hoping this would keep the tears from streaming down my face.

Suddenly, I can feel a hand on my shoulder and I jump up, before turning around. I stare at the only man that has ever lived in this place. He looks different to the man I last saw in Rio. His blond hair is shorter, his beard is gone and his skin is no longer that dark caramel colour, but instead a light olive tone. But his green eyes... they shine in a sea foam colour.

Is this real? Is he real? Is this happening?

"O-Oliver," my brain can't catch up to what's happening. If it's really happening. Maybe I've completely lost my mind now. Maybe this is a chimera. Maybe he is a chimera.

But when he gives me that look of love and runs his fingers through my straight long chestnut coloured hair, I know it has to be real. Or maybe I wish for it to be real so badly, that it has to be real. It has to turn out to be real.

Suddenly, he embraces me. "My Josephine,"

The roar of his lion-like voice is a whisper, but it awakes every single cell in my body to life nevertheless. I wrap my arms around his body and hold on to him like a lifebuoy. I bury my nose into the nape of his neck and inhale his scent. That smell which makes me feel safe and sound. No one has ever made me feel this way.

Forever, we stand there in silence, just enjoying being in each other's arms. I don't say a word because I'm afraid this is just my mind messing with me and I ruin everything if I say something. I lean back in his embrace and stare at his perfectly symmetrical face. His long nose, the high cheekbones, the full lips, that broad chin and these absolutely breathtaking green eyes. His beach blond hair is framing his face perfectly.

"Are you real? Is this happening?" I ask him after a moment of staring at Oliver.

His lips stretch into a smile, "Yes."

"How did you get here? How long have you been here?"

"A few weeks. I used the employees' lift to get in at night when the security men switched shifts." He explains to me.

I cherish his voice so much. I missed hearing it so badly. I run my fingers over his face and feel his skin underneath my fingertips. I can't believe this is real! "Are you married?"

"No."

"Kids?"

Oliver shakes his head, "I lied the last time we saw each other. I was hurt and too proud to admit I wanted you back. I was-"

I seal my lips over his to shut him up. Fireworks explode within me as soon as our lips touch. Oliver returns my kiss and fills it with passion. It's been five years since I kissed this man, but it feels like no time has passed at all. He starts pressing me into the glass behind me as our tongues start dancing a sensual rumba.

Suddenly, a gunshot fills my ears and I can hear glass shattering a second later. Oliver's lips become immobile as another gunshot fills my ears. He touches his back and I can see the blood on his hand when he lifts it. "Oliver,"

"You heartless bitch!" I can hear my husband's voice ringing through the open living space. "I knew you were betraying me with him!"

I look over Oliver's shoulder and stare at Edward, who is holding a silver gun. He aims the gun at the love of my life again before pulling the trigger once more, shooting right between his shoulder blades. "No!"

That's when Oliver's body falls on to the floor. He is full of blood. His white shirt is soaked up with the red blood, I drop to my knees and lift his head. "Keep fighting, you can do this."

Oliver's sea foam coloured eyes look tired, almost lifeless even. "I love you."

"I love you, too. I love you so much, Oliver. This is not our end." I promise him as the tears stream down my face.

"Yes, it is!" Edward's voice fills my ears before a second later I can feel a bullet entering my chest.

"NO!" I wake up drenched in sweat in my bed in the master bedroom. My heart is racing in my chest like crazy! I pull the blanket back and look at the bedsheets underneath me, afraid to see blood again. But there's not a single red spot on the bedsheets.

No blood. Just a racing heart.

A moment later my husband comes running into the bedroom. "Are you okay? Are you bleeding again?"

I wrap my arms around my husband and hold him close to me. He is alive! He's breathing! It feels so good to have him in my arms. I inhale deeply. His scent starts filling my nostrils. Cosy nights at the open fireplace while it's snowing outside and this sense of safety. It's my favourite smell in the whole world!

"No. I'm fine. I just... I had the strangest dream." I whisper before placing my left ear on his chest to listen to his heartbeat. His heartbeat is steady and strong. It's the best sound in the world!

"A strange dream, huh?" He asks me.

I just nod as the remnants of this awful dream just won't leave my mind. My throat tightens as pictures flash in front of my inner eye. For a split second I can hear Edward shooting the gun. Oliver's dead body falling on the hardwood floor. I squeeze my eyes shut harder but the tears manage to escape anyway.

My biggest fear is Edward taking Oliver away from me. I squeeze my husband harder as I try to make the images go away. It was just a dream. It won't become reality.

It won't!

Oliver leans back slightly in my embrace but I don't give him much room to move. "Hey, what's wrong? What was the dream about?"

I shake my head. If I talk about it, it's just going to give Edward more power.

Oliver wipes the tears away that have started to roll down my cheeks. "You're crying. Whatever you dreamt about, it has deeply upset you."

"It's not worth talking about." I insist.

My husband licks his lips, "Okay, but I won't go to my Mama's place for dinner then."

"No! Just because I don't feel like going doesn't mean you get to skip that dinner as well. If we both won't go than she'll know something's up."

"And something clearly is going on here."

"Oliver, get dressed and put on your best son-smile for her. Please, do this for me." I beg him.

My husband licks his lips, "Okay. But when I'm back you will talk to me about this dream. You never beg, Tesoro, so whatever you dreamt about it must've been pretty awful."

Awful doesn't even cover it.

Oliver

"Oliver, is everything alright?"

I look up from my plate and meet my Mama's brown eyes. She has always seen through any lies. I don't know how much longer I can keep our secret in front of her. Especially after last night and this deeply disturbing dream she had. All I wanted to do was stay with my wife but she insisted on me spending time with my family as we had originally planned. She asked me to excuse her by saying she wasn't feeling so well and promised me she'd take a bath and go straight to bed afterwards.

Yet, I can't help but worry about her and our babies. Is she alright? Are they alright? What if she starts having cramps again? What if she starts bleeding once more?

"Yes." I lie with a nod.

"Oliver, you haven't touched your food. I've made one of your favourite dishes. Moqueca!"

Moqueca is more than a mere fish stew. It is is served with theatrical flourish as the piping hot clay pot is uncovered at the table amid clouds of fragrant steam. Baianos (residents of Bahia, in the north-east of the country) and Capixabas (from the neighbouring state of Espírito Santo) both lay claim to the origins of the dish, and both serve up equally tasty variations. At its simplest, fish and/or other seafood are stewed in diced tomatoes, onions and coriander. The Capixabas add annatto seeds for a natural red food colouring, while the Baianos serve a heavier version, made with palm oil, peppers and coconut milk. It's teamed with rice, farofa (toasted manioc flour – ideal for mopping up juices) and pirão (a spicy fish porridge made with manioc flour – far tastier than it sounds).

But I haven't touched any of it. I just played with the fish on my plate while my mind was a few floors above us, right with my wife, who is carrying our two babies.

"I'm sorry, I'm just not hungry I guess." I mumble.

"Have you guys fought?" My Mama asks me.

"Of course they fought. Look at him! He is completely torn apart!" Caio waves with his hands. Whenever he says things like these and acts this way I see my Papa in him. If even he starts noticing he weird vibes, than maybe I have to tell my Mama about what happened last night anyway.

"Did Jo make you do something you didn't want?" Johna asks me.

The question makes me frown. Johns loves Jo. He absolutely adores her and enjoys spending time with her, but if even he sees that something's going on... "No, we didn't fight. I'm just really not hungry." I insist.

"Johna, Caio, go to your rooms. This will be an adults only conversation."

"Uh-oh someone's getting punished." Caio mumbles before rising from the chair. Johna follows his brother down the hallway but my Mama keeps her mouth shut until the doors of both bedrooms have closed.

"Alright, talk to me."

"Mama-"

"Oliver, talk to me. What did she do? Did something happen between you?"

I lick my lips. How do I tell her I worry about my pregnant wife and our babies without telling her of the pregnancy itself? "I'm just worried about Josephine, that's all."

"Because she's sick?"

"Because she's stressed." I insist. It's not a complete lie.

"Is this about your new jobs?"

"No, it's got nothing to do with our royalty status. It's about Rothschild."

"I've heard that name on the TV this morning. I saw some photos of him with Jo but I didn't understand a lot that the news reporter said."

I sigh, I think it's time to let her into some secrets after all. "When Josephine and I started seeing each other, she was very different. She was very privacy oriented I guess you could say. She had me sign a NDA so I would never tell a soul that I was seeing her." I tell her in Brazilian Portuguese.

"Go on."

"She met Edward Rothschild in Paris one day. She was there with her sister Ana for fashion week or something. I couldn't come with her because I was in England illegally. Leaving be country meant I could possibly not coming back."

"And she betrayed you with this man?" My Mama asks me shocked as she reads between the lines.

"Don't judge her. It was in a different life. Things changed since then. She only did it to hurt me. I didn't realise how badly she wanted me to come to Paris with her. I had no idea how much I had hurt her when I rejected that trip. So, she slept with Edward to make me feel the pain she felt."

"Did she tell you that?"

"Yes. We were always honest with each other. That's why it was so hard to not tell her about my immigration status." I lick my lips, "And then on Char's wedding she saw Edward again. He is one of the richest and most influential people of the world. She slept with him again, told me the next day, I told her I loved her and she broke up with me."

"And then you came back home." My Mama thinks out loud.

"Yes. Josephine went out with Rothschild and eventually these two got engaged. But on the day of her wedding, she had panic attacks when the car stopped in front of the cathedral. She couldn't get out of the car."

"She couldn't marry him."

"No. She literally stood him up at the altar. He came running out of the church, talked to her and she gave him the engagement ring back. He threw the ring into the River Avon. The whole world was watching them as cameras filmed everything about the wedding. It was a disaster."

"She still loved you."

"Yes. She threw herself into the relationship with Edward to distract herself from the heartache our break up caused her. After that wedding disaster she fled to Rio, where she eventually found me. She spent six months looking for me. She asked around a lot and left no stone unturned."

"And Edward?"

"He is aiming for revenge now. He threatened her when he saw us at her vernissage a few weeks ago. He knows a secret no one knew at the same. It was kept between her and me, but Edward somehow knew about it. It scared the shit out of me. Then a few weeks later the rape happened. No one knew-"

"Jo got raped?!" My Mama asks me shocked.

Shit. We didn't tell her and I forgot about it. "Yes. She went to the soup kitchen we regularly help out at alone because I was sick. She was the last one there and some Arab men walked in and abused her. No one knows we're going there except for Rothschild. He used that information against her. The men stole her wedding band and Edward's wearing a new watch with a sapphire ring around the clockwork in the interview. He's sending us a message."

My Mama's mouth drops open, "That man's a psychopath! He has to be locked up!"

"It's not that easy. Bringing a Rothschild to court means the world's economy will suffer. They control finance markets all over the world. Their banks are vital for the economy."

"You're telling me his untouchable?"

"It seems that way. And trust me, I don't like this one bit." My hands form fists at the thought of him. "He has done this interview that changed the world's view of Josephine. They know call my wife a narcissist."

"Jo and a narcissist?!" My Mama laughs. "It's like saying you have three heads! She's the most altruistic person I ever met! She helps wherever she can. And however she can. Without ever asking for something in return. Most of her charitable work has never been talked about. She's no narcissist!"

I know that. My Mama knows that. The King knows that. Her family knows that. Even bloody Rothschild knows the truth.

But the world doesn't.

"How is she doing? Is she okay?" My Mama's question rips me out of my thoughts.

She nearly miscarried last night because of it. She nearly lost our babies but I can't tell my Mama that. Because the pregnancy is still very much a secret. "She's holding up. She's strong." I say with a nod.

"I hope she can be weak with you." My Mama reaches out and grabs my hand. "I don't think less of her because of what you just told me."

"You don't?"

"No. I used to think the worst of this woman because she hurt you so badly. I saw how happy you were when you were with her. I remember the grin on your lips when we skyped once a month. It was the kind of grin your Papa and me used to wear as well. It's unconcealable, a look only someone in love wears." My Mama says to me. "And then on the day you stood at the doorstep when I came home from work on day... You looked like a completely different man. You looked like she shattered you into a million pieces. It made me angry. It made me hurt." My Mama licks her full lips, "No woman has ever made you look that way. She brought out the best in you and she made you see your most vulnerable side. She hurt you like no other woman before."

"She's the love of my life."

My Mama's full lips stretch into a smile, "I know. I can see that. I saw that when she showed up on our doorstep and I caught you fighting when I came back from work. I didn't understand a word, but I saw the fireworks flying nevertheless. She's challenging you and you are challenging her. She's your Yang and you are her Ying."

"Josephine calls us two sides of the same coin."

"That's a way to see it as well." My Mama agrees with my wife. "My point is, the look of love always comes through. The people, the press, they will see it as well. And that's going to change their perspective on her and you. They will see how madly and deeply in love you are with one another and they will quickly forget about that Edward and his nasty interview. Today's news is tomorrow's fish and chip papers." She said the last sentence in English.

I grin, "Who told you that saying?"

"Sergej. I think it applies to you guys as well, doesn't it?"

I nod with a smile on my lips, "I hope it will." I really do.

"Trust me on that. A mother always knows what's best for you." She squeezes my hand softly.

Josephine's a mother as well and she sent me here to have dinner with my Mama and brothers. Perhaps she already knows what's best for our twins as well. The thought makes me smile. Our twins... our two babies.

"Oh, I know that smile."

I gain back the control over my facial expressions, "You do?"

"Yeah, you were thinking of Jo, weren't you?"

"I was." And of our babies but I can't tell her that.

"That's the look I was talking a out earlier. Once people will see that, they will see you guys are for real."

It's the look of a father thinking of his kids and wife.

Josephine

I close my eyes and inhale all these essential oils that start filling the air. I've always loved taking long baths in my tub, but in the last week this has been an absolute necessity. The lavender, the chamomile and bergamot scents really calm me down. I've lit some candles with a calming scent, put on the piano music playlist that my Mum and Dad recorded for my siblings and me, and really relax in that warm bathtub. After a long talk with Dr. Ross, I have decided to take things a lot slower. At least until we're in the new year.

Suddenly my Mum's song that she wrote for my wedding day starts filling my ears through the speakers in the en-suite bathroom. It's such a lovely song. I could listen to it all day!

And one day I will play that song for my twins. Whether they will be boys or girls or one of each, I don't know. But I know I want them. I know I love them.

It's crazy how you can love someone you haven't even met.

"Hey,"

I open my eyes at my husband's words. He's suppose to have dinner with his Mum and brothers. But he came back far earlier than I expected. "You're here early."

"Yeah, I... I was worried."

"I'm fine. No cramps. No fever. No blood. I'm relaxing." I ensure him with a smile.

His pine green eyes dance down my body that's covered by bubbles. "Yeah?"

"Yes. And now get naked and join me in here. There's still enough space for you."

My husband grins, "We should send Marco a note about an extra big bathtub."

We definitely should. I watch how my husband undresses, peeling layer by layer off his body. Bit by bit, I start seeing more of his caramel coloured skin. "How was your dinner?"

"It was so hard to not tell my Mama about our double luck. She nearly had me." He explains as he gets out of his boxer briefs. "She sensed I was worried. I told her you're just stressed."

"That's not a complete lie." I back him as he climbs into the bathtub across me.

"I told myself the same." He agrees with me as he rests his head against the cushion that's sticking to the bathtub. "But it felt like a lie nevertheless."

He wants to tell her. I lick my lips, "I don't feel comfortable telling anyone about them yet. Especially after last night." I admit.

"I know... and I understand you, but I don't know how much longer I can keep our double luck a secret. How are we suppose to keep our mouths shut during Christmas?"

I don't know. I lick my lips again, "I almost lost them last night. Don't make me do something I don't want to."

His eyes fall into a deep sadness, "I would never do that, Tesoro. I was just asking the obvious."

"But you could make me do that." I whisper back. He is the only person in the world that can make me do things I don't want to.

He grabs my hand and squeezes it softly. "You have the same power over me but I will never abuse this kind of power because that would mean you'd lose yourself - and that would mean I would lose myself as well. We're a family. We're a team. We're a union. You're carrying our products of love. I will never ever abuse you or our relationship." He promises me.

But Edward Rothschild would. He did. He nearly had me married him in a spectacle that was fit for a Royal. "And I promise you the same." I whisper back as he kisses my wedding rings. I stare at my wedding rings for a moment. They're so different than the wedding rings I wore in my dream. Oliver's engagement ring has class, it's a classic three stone ring. An oblong cushion cut sea foam coloured sapphire that's embraced by a half moon shaped diamond on either side. The stones are sitting on a yellow golden Welsh wedding band. The same material was used for my wedding band that features twists that are filled with diamonds that used to belong to my great-grandmother.

These rings are nothing like the massive obnoxious engagement ring that Rothschild gifted me and the horrible diamond covered platinum wedding band. Oliver's ring feel light and like freedom, Rothschild's felt heavy; they felt like chains.

"Will you tell me about the dream you had earlier?" He asks me.

I pull my hand back, "Do I have to?"

This time it's my husband who licks his lips. "No, you don't but I think you won't be able to go to sleep tonight without talking about it with me."

He's got a point. I sigh before moving through the water until I reach him. "But only if you hold me really, really tight."

"Really, really tight?" He asks me with a smirk on his lips.

"Don't mock me. It was the worst nightmare I ever had and honestly, I think this nightmare could still very much become reality."

"Okay." My husband nods before waving with his hands. "Lean back against me and tell me about your dream."

I turn around in the tub and lean against the strong chest of my husband. He wraps his arms around me and holds me tightly, just like he promised. But I can't bring myself to voice a word.

Oliver rests his chin on my left shoulder and I look at the reflection of us in the glass of the window front. Just the thought of not being able to do this brings me to tears again. "Okay, I'm just going to wait here until you're ready to talk about it. For however long necessary. No pressure. Take your time." He kisses my left cheek.

Oliver's the love of my life and just the idea that Ed could try to harm him makes me angry and sad... "Rothschild killed you in my dream."

"What?"

"He shot you with a gun. Twice. You died in my arms."

"Woah, lets rewind here. Start at the beginning not with the end."

"I was in Rocinha, looking for you. When I found you, you rejected me and basically told me to fuck off and stay out of your life." I bite on my lower lip.

Oliver squeezes me softly, "I would never say that to you."

"I know. I guess... I guess this was a dream of what could have been."

"Of what could have been?"

"If I married Rothschild and you and I never got back together. In a different universe." I say with a shrug.

"I see... well... Were you happy with him in that universe?"

I shake my head, "No! I was miserable! Truly miserable. I was leading the Bolton Foundation but other than that there was no joy in my life. Hannah was presenting Rothschild and me on a silver plate at every given moment. And I was..." I inhale deeply. It felt so bloody real! The dream felt so real that I wonder if it might really had happened that way.

If I hadn't stood up Rothschild at the altar.

If Oliver hadn't forgiven me and taken me back.

Just the slightest change in our past could've meant a completely different outcome.

"You were what? Were you pregnant?"

"No, I was dreaming of you. Every night. With or without Rothschild by my side, I was dreaming of us dancing in our living room." I explain to him. Like in real life.

"Oh... and how did Edward end up shooting me then if we weren't together?"

"On our fifth wedding anniversary - in that parallel universe - I drove back to this penthouse. I was living with Rothschild at his place in Belgravia but I didn't sell this place or your Mama's flat."

"She was in your dream as well?"

"No. It was just a reference to the flat that I gifted you for your birthday."

"Okay. Go on."

"I was staring out at the window front in the living room when suddenly you appeared out of nowhere. The last time when I saw you in Rocinha was two years after I broke us up. I wanted to divorce Rothschild and get back with you but you told me you were seeing someone else, so I left..."

"And then three years later I end up in our living room?"

I nod, "You were there and we kissed. It was one of those sensual kisses, you know when our tongues dance that rumba?"

My husband nods, "I enjoy those kisses very much."

"And while we were reconnecting, Rothschild appeared and starting shooting you. He first shot a vase or something made of glass as I heard a shattering noise but the second and third gunshot was aimed at you." A shiver runs down my spine. I can feel how I start shaking but Oliver intensifies his grip around me. "Your last words were that you loved me. I said it back. I told you to keep fighting and that this couldn't be the end of us. But then Rothschild aimed the gun at me and pulled the trigger. That's when I woke up."

"I'm alive. It was just a dream." He whispers into my left ear.

"It felt so real. It felt so..." my voice breaks as tears start rolling down my cheeks. "I can't lose you, Oliver. I can't breathe without you. I can't-"

"You won't lose me." My husband promises me.

"But what if Rothschild does shoot you? He's got a gun. I know that because I've seen it. He's not as good of a marksman as me, but he can shoot well enough to hit his aim."

"Tesoro, we've got security with us 24/7. And after January the first the security will be even tighter. No one will break in here, let alone in our new home. The gates of Hampton Court Palace are as high as those of Buckingham or Kensington. If you feel insecure here than we can always move in with my Mama and brothers or your parents or Della and Wlad or Ana and Sasha or Nate and Char or Rory and George - you see the options are endless just like our security is unbreakable. He won't get in here or anywhere near us."

"I know... I mean, logically I know that but my brain is still playing tricks on me. I never dreamt of Rothschild before. I never felt enough for him to have my subconscious was made him appear in my dreams. But these last weeks..."

"He's gotten under your skin, I've noticed that."

"You did?"

"Of course I did! You're my wife. Taking care of you is my top priority. I noticed how you stoped calling him by his first name as well."

I didn't even notice that. "I don't want this dream to become reality. I don't want Rothschild to be the death of either of us."

"He won't kill us. Directly or indirectly. Once our new positions will be announced, things will change. He will back off and leave us alone."

"But for how long? We will see him again at state banquets and official gatherings. It's very likely he's going to be at the Commonwealth reception after the celebrations at Westminster Abbey."

"I'll do my best to not kill him on the dance floor then."

That sentence makes me smile. The idea of those two having a dance-off is quite amusing.

"Is that a smile I'm seeing?"

I smirk, "Maybe."

Oliver returns my smirk, "I like that smile very much."

I twist my head to the side to look at the love of my life. "You're the only one who has ever seen it."

"Maybe your dream should have started at a different point." Oliver says after a moment of staring at me.

"What do you mean?"

"What if it had started the day when you broke up with me? What if you hadn't broken up with me and said you loved me back instead? What do you think happened then?"

"I don't know."

"Well, this is the way I see it. We would've brought my Mama and brothers here because I would have finally accepted your help and money. They would've gotten a British Visa like me because I finally had the courage to tell you about my illegal status. You would have helped me and a few weeks after that you'd discovered that you're pregnant. We'd continue living together very happily - with the occasional crossfires but that would have lead to even better makeup sex - and I would have supported you whenever and wherever I can. Fast forward a year and a half and we'd be having a toddler running around - or not if you had a miscarriage, because we will never know if this miscarriage was meant to happen or not - but we'd definitely be having these two on the way. Maybe we'd be married. Maybe not. But probably yes, because marrying you was on my mind for a very long time."

"It was?"

"Yes. Since the day I saw you in your maid of honour dress in our living room. I will never forget how you looked and moved in that dress."

I remember that day as well. I wasn't really in the mood for trying on that dress. I didn't want Char to be alone with Oliver because I was afraid she'd tell him something I don't want him to know. "But my hair and makeup wasn't even done. I looked horrible!"

"No, you looked absolutely breathtaking. Literally. My heart skipped a beat when I saw you in that dress."

"Because it was ivory coloured and had a fishtail train or had an open back?" I ask him. That dress caused more controversy than anything else I ever wore. It looked ducking innocent from the front with the traditional cowl neckline but the back... that's what got all dicks to full mast. The tabloids where full of photos of my ass the next weeks. I completely stole the show, so Char's plan worked. I know I looked like a sexier version of the bride, but that was Charlotte's intention and I played along. Because that's what family does.

"No, because you did something you knew would be criticised by the world. By wearing that dress you'd create a scandal bigger than Pippa's famous bum scene on her sister's wedding. And you did it on purpose. You did it to keep the spotlight off of Charlotte's bump and I swear that was the sexiest thing ever."

"You found that sexy, huh?" I ask him with a smirk on my lips.

"Protecting your family and friends is the damn sexiest thing ever."

I lick my lips, "I never knew this could be a sexy characteristic."

"My point is, our live together wouldn't have turned out very different than from the one we're living right now."

He's right. Either way, we would be together. Probably married. Probably with kids. But definitely together. "You just turned my nightmare into an angelic version!"

"I just changed the starting point and maybe you should think of that instead of the nightmare when you fall asleep tonight in my arms. In your husband's arms, who loves you more than words can describe."

"It's the first time you talked about yourself in the third person."

He smirks, "I think the situation requires that."

This time I actually laugh.

"I love hearing you laugh. I live for that laughter."

And I live for those sea foam coloured eyes. I live for his smile, for his lion like voice, for his tight grip... for his love. "You are my destiny. If this dream showed me one thing, than it's that you are my destiny. Even in a parallel universe, we ended up together. We belong together. We are soulmates. We are destined to be together."

He runs his thumb over my lower lip, "Yes, we are, Tesoro." He agrees with me before kissing me passionately.

Oliver

I watch how my wife climbs into our bed and slides over to me until we're as close together as possible. We used to sleep on the other end of the bed because she hated cuddling but now, she and I can't sleep without being so close. She loves being the small spoon and I love being the big spoon. Holding her in my arms and feeling her fall asleep is the best way to have a good sleep. I wrap my arms around her and hold her tightly against me - and my throbbing cock.

"I see things are slowly getting back to normal." She whispers from the front.

I inhale her scent and kiss her left cheek. "Just ignore him."

"We've never done that before and I won't start now." My wife sighs before rolling on the other side to face me. "Look, I know sex's off the table for some time but that doesn't mean we can't do other things. I'm very skilled with my hands, mouth and particularly my tongue."

I remember very clearly how skilled my wife is. "Tesoro,"

Her left hand wander down my stomach and underneath the waistband of my boxer briefs. When her hand wraps around my cock, he vibrates in excitement. I inhale deeply. "Whatever makes you sleep at night, right?"

Gosh, I have the best wife in the world! "You don't have to do this. There's other ways-"

"Hey, we've done way kinkier stuff on French Cay and on Sapphire."

I flush as I remember the things we did on Troy's boat. I don't know if it were the sailing knots, the hand cuffs or the fact that I was fucking Troy's daughter on his boat - up until that day I never came harder in my life.

"And you liked that, didn't you?"

More than I want to admit. I thought I was building this special room in our new home for Josephine, but maybe it's for me as well. Even if it's just a little bit. "I don't want to be the only one who's getting pleasure out of this."

My wife grabs my left hand and puts it underneath her black panties. I can feel how soaked and warm her pussy is. It's pulsing not any less than my dick in her hand. "You're not."

"Tesoro,"

She rolls her sky blue eyes at me, "What?"

"I love you."

She smirks at me before rubbing her nose against mine, "I'm going to make you scream that I'm ecstasy tonight."

I have no doubt.

---

I stop in front of the still closed door of Luigi's in Covent Garden. The sun has just started to rise but I know Luigi's still working in his restaurant, already baking pastries, biscuits and all sorts of pasta. That mean works relentlessly, day in and day out.

And I left him from one day to another. Without a warning. Without a goodbye.

This won't be an easy way to gain back his trust or just his forgiveness.

I cross the street and leave Ralph in the black Jaguar. He was so kind to drive me to Luigi's on this ungodly hour. I wanted to surprise Josephine with Italian biscuits and baking fifteen different biscuits in the morning is a little too much. Plus, I don't know all of Luigi's secrets.

I don't knock on the front door but instead walk around the restaurant to the back door. Luigi's van, a few bikes and some motorcycles are parked at the back door which is wide open. Luigi just got his delivery of fresh veggies and fruits. There are still a few boxes of courgette and mushrooms standing here.

I pick up a box full of courgette and walk into the restaurant that I worked at for two years. I can't even imagine how badly it hurt when I left him. A simple sorry won't do it justice but perhaps it's a start. I stop in the stainless kitchen as I see Luigi putting the tomatoes away. The old man with a heart of gold stops in his movements as he sees me. "Oliver,"

"Hi." I greet him and place the box on the stainless steel kitchen island.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to apologise for my behaviour and explain what happened."

"Why you left so sudden from one day to the next? I figured you found a better place to work at." Luigi says to me.

"No, that's not what happened." I say and lick my lips. "I was an illegal immigrant when we first met."

"Then you got caught by the MI5?" Luigi asks me.

"Yeah. They sent me back to Rio."

"And now you're back?"

"I have been for a few weeks. I just didn't have the courage to speak to you." I answer honestly. "I'm so sorry for what happened. You deserved a proper goodbye. You deserve to know the truth."

Luigi shrugs, "Your not the first illegal person that I've employed here. I knew exactly what was going on. It's why I always gave you the leftovers. How did you come back? The U.K. government is pretty strict when it comes to letting in people they threw out."

I hold up my left hand. "By marriage."

"You found a British woman that wanted to marry you while you were in Brazil? How did you do that? Through Facebook?"

I chuckle, "No. No Facebook. We were seeing each other while I was still living here but I was too afraid to tell her about my situation. I was too proud to accept her money or help."

Luigi rolls his deep brown eyes. "Men. Always too proud."

I shrug, "It's an ego thing, right?"

"How did you end up marrying her?"

"She found me in Rio. She wanted us to get back together. I told her I couldn't come back unless she'd put a ring on my finger."

"And she agreed?"

"No. She thought about it. Considered her options. And then she proposed to me."

"Now that's a woman to my taste! Does she have a grandma I could meet?"

I chuckle, "Well, actually I think you already know her grandmas. It's Josephine."

"Jose- Josephine? Jo Bolton?" Luigi asks me with wide eyes. "The little girl that's totally in love with my biscuits?"

I nod, "Actually, they're the reason why I'm here. The second reason. I wanted to surprise her with some."

"You and Josephine?" Luigi asks me shocked before erupting into a laughter. "The world's a bloody small space! Her parents still come here for lunch almost very day. They're my best customers. Their little boy Elias loves celebrating his birthdays here! I regularly send my biscuits to Kensington Palace and Clarence House as well."

"Yeah, about that... get ready to make some deliveries to Hampton Court Palace."

"Hampton Court Palace?"

"The Oxfords and Windsors are moving there next year. Along with..." I don't even know if I'm allowed to tell him that. "Along with Josephine and me."

"You're living in a Palace?"

"No, we decided to build a house on the grounds of the Palace's Home Park."

"How did you manage to do that? You know what, no. I don't want to know. Some secrets better remain a secret. Either way, I'm very happy for you."

"So, does that mean you've forgiven me?"

Luigi holds out his arms, "Of course. I always knew you had a big heart and God rewarded you for your kindness and patience."

He has no idea how much.

"Any chance I can buy some of your biscuits?"

"No. You're getting them for free."

Josephine

Oliver places a cappuccino with stunning latte art in front of me as I sit on a barstool at our kitchen island. I stare at a stunning lion with an impressive furry head. "Oh wow! You made me my royal supporter! I'm getting really spoiled today."

"Don't feel too spoiled though. It's a decaf." Oliver says while working on the latte art of his cappuccino that's definitely not decaf across me. How he can make latte art out of a can full of frothed milk is a mystery to me. My husband is seriously skilled!

"Where's the fun in that?! Who drinks decaf anyway?"

"You. Since last night for the foreseeable future."

"You mean for the rest of the pregnancy." I precise his words.

"Until you stopped breastfeeding them."

He can't be serious! "Now that's really unfair!" I complain. "First no sex and now no caffeine?! Those are my two favourite things in the world!"

My husband chuckles before turning around to pick up the boxes full of Italian biscuits that he brought home this morning. They smell heavenly as they're freshly baked. "I bought you Luigi's biscuits to ease the pain."

I pout as my eyes wander over the 45 different Italian biscuits that are stacked in the boxes. My mouth starts watering as the smell fills my nostrils. He's really good at this. "Caffeine is completely fine." I insist as I meet his emerald green eyes again. His cup of cappuccino has a Bengal cat as a latte art - and actually coffee inside. Not just brown coloured water like mine.

"But not in the current situation. It causes your blood pressure to rise and that could cause another blood clot to rapture. The doctor said there could be more blood clots."

I know what the doctor said but I decided to believe there are no other blood clots. "Could be doesn't mean there is."

"If that's your argument than you already know you've lost against me."

"Okay fine. Let's meet halfway. No caffeine until the pregnancy's over." I suggest. I think I could do 25 weeks without caffeine. And those 25 weeks might be even less if I give birth before hitting the 38th week.

My husband nods with triumphal grin. "That's all I wanted anyway."

I pick up a Torcettini Di Saint Vincent, a twisted biscuit. "You were at Luigi's this morning?" I ask. He's the only place in whole U.K. that bakes these biscuits.

Oliver nods, "To apologise for what happened."

I bite into the delicious biscuit. It's somewhere between a bread and cookie. It's caramelised on the outside and crunchy. Absolutely delicious! "How did he react?"

"He was very understanding actually. His reaction surprised me. He told me I wasn't the first illegal immigrant that he employed. I told him the whole thing."

"The whole thing?"

"More or less. He asked how I got back into the U.K. after the MI5 threw me out. I told him about us."

"Us?" I ask him with wide eyes. "How did he react?"

"He told me the sweetest stories about you and your siblings when you ate there. How you helped bake the pizzas and threw mozzarella at Nate."

I giggle, "Luigi knows my family very well."

"I hope one day we can bring our twins there and watch them throwing mozzarella through the kitchen."

I laugh, "That would be very nice."

Oliver grabs my left hand and kisses my wedding rings. "I love you so much, Tesoro."

"I love you, too. And these biscuits almost make amends for waking up alone this morning."

"Luigi's quite a chatterbox and we had a lot to catch up on. Otherwise I'd be here earlier."

"I know." I say with a nod. "I still don't like waking up alone."

"In a few months you'll be waking up with our babies."

"You mean due to our babies crying." I correct him with a raised eyebrow.

"Either way, you'll never wake up without me ever again." My husband insists with a smirk on his lips.

That's a way to see our double luck, too, I guess. "I prefer you in my bed when I wake up, though."

"You say that now but once these two are born you will kick me out so they have enough space."

I don't know what kind of Mum I'm going to be but I know I'll be a protective one. I lick my lips, "I'm not that territorial."

"True, that's more me."

I chuckle, "You'd kick me out of the bed for them?"

"No, I'd kick myself out of bed so you guys have enough space." He tells me. "You three are my top priority."

"You're going to be a great father."

"I think you'll be doing fairly good as well." He mocks me.

I grab his left hand and squeeze it softly, "With you by my side, I can handle anything."

"And anyone." He agrees with me.

---

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it!

i thought I'd show you a bit of a parallel universe if Jo decided to marry Edward.

The songs which inspired this idea were both by Sasha Sloan. Runaway and Dancing With Your Ghost. The second song actually inspired Jo's dream of Oliver and her dancing in the living room. Oliver had the same dream.

I also thought it was important for Oliver to tie the loose ends before starting the next chapter of their lives together as the most controversial royals ever.

Do you think Oliver should have told his Mum about Edward?

Please review, but more importantly stay healthy and safe.

In gratitude,

Nicole