I narrowed my eyes. “And why does that involve me?”
His voice sharpened, impatient. “Because she can’t have children.”
The words hit like a slap.
Then he said it, as if it was nothing.
“She wants you to carry them.”
I felt my whole body go cold.
“She wants me to have her baby?” I asked, barely able to speak.
Magnus took my hands like he was trying to calm me down. “Not hers. Ours. Think about it—”
“No,” I snapped. “Don’t twist it.”
He leaned closer, eyes intense. “Lyra, please. She’s your friend. She’s always been good to you. Just help her. Once she’s gone, everything goes back to how it was supposed to be.”
I didn’t understand how someone could say something so cruel with such a calm face.
But he kept pushing.
“Ariel will leave,” he swore. “And then we’ll marry. The children will be ours. You’ll raise them. You’ll finally have everything you were promised.”
I hesitated.
And then, like the idiot I was, I let him convince me.
I carried the twins for them.
I gave up my body, my pride, my peace—because I thought it was the last ugly step before the life I was owed finally began.
But I never even got the chance to hand those babies over.
Ariel died before I gave birth.
Another “accident.”