Chapter 4-Pregnant

Three weeks had passed, but for Alita, every single day felt like a slow crawl through a nightmare.

The dining room of the Brown mansion was huge, cold, and deathly quiet.

The only sound was the clinking of silver forks against expensive porcelain plates.

Alita sat at the end of the table, her skin pale and her eyes dull from too many sleepless nights.

She barely touched the food in front of her.

The smell of the breakfast—something buttery and rich—suddenly hit her.

Instead of smelling good, it felt like a punch to her stomach.

Nausea twisted violently inside her.

Alita gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

She pushed her chair back with a loud screech that echoed through the room and rushed toward the sink in the open kitchen.

She barely made it before she started vomiting.

It was a harsh, painful sound.

She leaned over the sink, her body shaking as her stomach emptied itself.

This wasn’t the first time she had been sick today.

It wasn’t even the first time this week.

For days, she could barely eat anything without throwing it up.

And she couldn’t refuse even if she wanted to.

Ever since her late mother, Serena, died, the house had never felt like home again.

Her father became distant.

And her stepmother, Emilia, treated her like an unwanted burden.

No one cared if she cried.

No one asked if she was okay.

She wasn’t treated like a daughter anymore.

She was simply someone they had to tolerate.

Behind her, her stepmother, Emily, didn’t look worried.

Instead, she exchanged a quick smile with Bianca.

It was small, but full of meaning.

They already had an idea of what was happening.

Marshall slowly placed his fork on his plate.

The soft sound made everyone look at him.

His cold eyes stayed on Alita as she finally stopped throwing up.

Alita wiped her mouth with a shaking hand before slowly walking back to the table.

Her legs felt weak.

She could barely keep herself standing.

As she sat down, she lowered her head.

Please… please don’t let it be what I think it is.

Fear wrapped tightly around her heart.

She was only nineteen.

She couldn’t even remember what had happened that night.

She didn’t know the name of the man.

She didn’t know where he was.

She didn’t even know if she would ever see him again.

Suddenly—

SLAP!

The loud sound echoed through the dining room.

Alita’s head snapped to the side.

Her cheek burned instantly.

Her stepmother, Emilia, stood over her, glaring with disgust.

“You shameless girl!” she shouted.

“You’ve brought shame to this family!”

But beneath the anger on her face was something else.

She looked pleased.

As if she had been waiting for this moment.

Tears filled Alita’s eyes.

She held her burning cheek as her lips trembled.

She looked at her father, hoping he would say something.

“Dad…” she whispered.

“I swear… I can explain.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“I don’t know why this is happening.”

Marshall didn’t move.

He didn’t comfort her.

He didn’t even look sorry.

His face remained cold.

“I hope you can explain it,” he said quietly.

“Because if you are carrying a child…”

He paused for a second.

“…I won’t hesitate to get rid of that mistake.”

Alita froze.

His words broke something inside her.

She stared at him, unable to believe what she had just heard.

Without another word, Marshall stood up.

He pushed his chair back and walked out of the dining room.

The silence he left behind was even colder than before.

Alita sat there crying quietly while her stepmother, Emilia, and Bianca watched her with small, satisfied smiles.