2

I needed to know who this monster was. I needed to know the face of the man who had just taken my first time.

The morning sun was just beginning to peek through the heavy velvet drapes, cutting a thin, sharp sliver of golden light directly across the chaise lounge. I turned back and forced my eyes to follow the beam of light.

The illumination crawled up the silk shirt, over the broad shoulders, and finally lit up his face. My breath caught in my throat. The air left my lungs completely, leaving me suffocating in the silence.

My entire body went utterly cold, as if my blood had turned to ice water. My hands began to shake so fiercely that I had to grip the back of a nearby chair just to stay upright. My chest heaved in uneven, jagged gasps.

No. No, no, no. This can't be happening.

I stared at the unmistakable, aristocratic lines of his jaw, the familiar brow, the prominent features I had seen a thousand times whispered about in terrified, reverent tones by the mansion staff.

It was him.

The one person I should never, under any circumstances, have been within a mile of. A man far above my station, holding a level of immense, untouchable power that could crush someone like me with a single word. A man who, if he ever discovered the truth of this night, wouldn't just ruin my dreams—he would utterly destroy my life.

------------------------------

"Doctor, are you sure this is my report? Please tell me you made a mistake somewhere because this cannot be happening to me."

I could barely hold the paper steady. My hands were shaking so badly that the report rattled between my fingers, and no matter how many times I looked at the result, it remained exactly the same.

The doctor sighed and adjusted his glasses before looking at me again. "Miss Liora, I have already checked it. The result is correct."

I stared at him. Then I stared at the report. Then I looked back at him again. I was waiting for him to suddenly tell me that this was some kind of misunderstanding, but he didn't.

The tears came before I could stop them.

"No," I whispered as I shook my head. "No, this can't be right. It just can't."

I quickly wiped my face, but more tears followed immediately. I wasn't somebody who cried easily. Life had taught me long ago that crying never solved anything.

When I couldn't afford something, crying didn't magically put money in my pocket. When people like my stepmother looked down on me because I worked as a maid, crying didn't make them respect me. When I was exhausted from working all day, crying didn't make the next day any easier.

But at that moment, I couldn't stop. My entire life felt like it was collapsing around me.

I had spent years planning my future. Every decision I made was supposed to take me one step closer to the life I wanted. I worked hard. I saved money whenever I could. I ignored distractions because I knew I couldn't afford mistakes.

Now look at me. Sitting in a hospital with tears running down my face because of the biggest mistake I had ever made.

I laughed bitterly through my tears and lowered my head. "What was I thinking?" I asked myself. The question kept repeating inside my head. What was I thinking?

Why had I stayed that night? Why had I allowed myself to get carried away? Why had I ignored every sensible thought telling me to leave?

The more I thought about it, the angrier I became with myself. Nobody had forced me. Nobody had dragged me into that situation. I was the one who made the decision. Now I had to live with the consequences.

The memory of him immediately surfaced in my mind, and my stomach twisted so painfully that I pressed a hand against it. Of all the men in the world, why did it have to be him? That was the part I couldn't stop thinking about.

If this child belonged to some random man, my life would still be difficult, but at least I would know what I was dealing with. This was different.

The father of this child was a man whose family had more money than I could earn in ten lifetimes. A man whose name opened doors for him everywhere he went. A man who lived in a completely different world from mine.

I knew exactly the kind of people his family were. People like them didn't see people like me as equals. People like them didn't marry maids. People like them didn't wake up one day and happily accept the news that a servant was carrying their child.

The thought alone made my chest tighten. If he found out, what would happen? Would he think I planned this? Would he accuse me of trying to trap him? Would he believe me when I told him I wanted nothing from him?

The questions kept coming one after another until I felt as though I couldn't breathe. I buried my face in my hands.

"I've ruined everything," I said between sobs. "I actually ruined everything over one stupid night."

The words made me cry harder because they felt true. I had worked too hard to get where I was, I had sacrificed too much and I wasn't ready to throw away my future. I wasn't ready to become somebody's mother. I wasn't ready for any of this.

The doctor remained quiet while I cried, probably because there was nothing he could say that would make the situation better. And after several minutes, I finally forced myself to look up.

My eyes burned and my head hurt—in fact, my entire body felt exhausted. I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand and tried to calm my breathing.

Then I looked directly at the doctor and asked the only question that had been running through my mind since he handed me the report.

"Doctor, if someone doesn't want to keep the pregnancy, what are they supposed to do?"