Marked By the Pureblood Alpha (Deanna and Luis) novel Chapter 321

**Chapter 321: Restricted Area**

**Deanna’s POV:**

It was my mother.

“Deanna, are you alright?” The moment I answered the call, I could hear the tremor in her voice, a mix of concern and maternal instinct that tugged at my heartstrings.

“I’m fine,” I replied, trying to sound more composed than I felt.

I quickly recounted the events of the night, the chaos that had unfolded. When I finished, there was a brief silence on the other end, a quiet moment where I could almost feel her processing everything I had just shared.

“My flight is tomorrow morning, so I’ll leave first thing. Please remember to take care of yourself, Deanna. And with all the rumors swirling about you and Mr. Faulkner, if you don’t have feelings for him, it’s time to set the record straight,” she advised, her tone shifting to that of a protective mother.

“Yeah, I know,” I murmured, though I hadn’t truly grasped the full extent of the scandal until later. Malcolm’s hand, I suspected, was behind the escalation of those rumors. He had been so supportive, so instrumental in helping me navigate this tumultuous time, that it felt unfair to blame him for the chaos.

A soft sigh escaped my mother’s lips, a sound that echoed her worry.

“Deanna, I just want you to be happy,” she said, and I could hear the weight of her hopes in her voice.

I glanced down at my stomach, feeling the gentle nudges from within. These little kicks were both strange and delightful, a reminder of the life growing inside me. It startled me at first, but now it filled me with warmth.

“Mom, once the baby is born, I’ll definitely be happy,” I assured her, my heart swelling at the thought of loving another person.

After we chatted for a bit longer, I heard a gentle knock at my bedroom door.

I ended the call and went to see who it was.

Two maids, clad in crisp uniforms, wheeled in a small cart laden with a nutritious dinner, the aroma wafting through the air like a warm embrace.

“Ms. Wiley, Mr. Eaton instructed us to bring your meal upstairs. We’ll set it on the table for you,” one of the maids announced, her voice steady as they began to arrange each dish with meticulous care.

Once they had finished, I noticed they were preparing to leave, and an inexplicable urge made me stop them. “Wait, where is Luis?” I asked, my brow furrowing with concern.

The maids exchanged glances, their heads bowing slightly, but they remained silent.

I pressed on, my voice tinged with urgency, “Did he go out?”

The only response was an uncomfortable silence that hung in the air like a thick fog. Just as I was about to demand answers, the lead maid spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Ms. Wiley, we don’t know where Mr. Eaton is.”

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