I’m pregnant. With his children. Three of them. And he sees me as nothing more than a vault he picked open and looted. And Dulcie… she was helping him the whole time?
I slip out while they’re distracted, somehow managing not to scream, not to break, not to collapse. My heels echo faintly through the hall as I escape the dark maze beneath our estate.
Once I’m outside, the night air hits me like a slap. I clutch my stomach, trying to calm the storm raging inside me. My babies. I have to think of them. Not him. Not her. Not the betrayal boiling in my throat.
For a split second, the darkness whispers that it would be easier to disappear. To end this. But then I feel it—one small flutter in my belly.
I choke on a sob.
No. I’m not going to die.
Not for a man who sees me as a pawn.
Not for a best friend who traded me for a crown.
I return home, barely functioning. The walls feel the same, but everything inside me has changed.
Reagan is already there. Of course he is. Cool. Composed. A fucking iceberg in human skin.
“You look pale,” he says, eyes scanning me like a threat under a microscope. “Everything alright?”
“Just tired,” I mutter, voice dull.