Back home, the warmth of the mansion did little to thaw the chill that had settled in my bones. My cheek still throbbed, and the scratch beneath my eye was beginning to swell. The maid, Lydia, met us at the door, her eyes darting to my face before quickly looking away. She didn’t ask what happened, she never did.
Instead, she quietly led me to the kitchen and placed a warm bowl of tonic on the marble counter.
“Madam,” she said gently, “this was specially requested by Madam Clarisse. She said you should take it before resting. It will help… with your cycles.”
Cycles. That was her polite way of saying contraception.
I stared at the bowl, a thick, almost black liquid steaming faintly. Bitter roots, boiled herbs, and whatever else Richard’s mother believed would keep me from “accidentally ruining my health with a pregnancy.”
I forced a small smile. “Thank you, Lydia.”
She bowed her head and left me alone.
The first sip turned my stomach. By the third, I felt the now-familiar nausea crawling up my throat. But I finished it. Just like I always did.
Because if I didn’t, Richard would know. And if Richard knew, his mother would know. And if she knew… the tension would be unbearable.
I rubbed my belly absently. There was nothing wrong with me. My uterus was perfectly healthy. It wasn’t the surgeries. It wasn’t my body. It was fear. Richard’s fear. His overprotectiveness. His insistence that my body was too fragile, too broken, too risky.
And maybe… maybe it was starting to become true.
When I came upstairs, he was already in our bedroom, seated at the edge of the bed in his robe, a glass of water in one hand and a familiar silver packet in the other.
The pills.
I paused in the doorway, searching his face.
“Richard,” I said softly, “have you ever thought about… maybe we could just try? One time? Carefully. Monitored.”
His jaw tightened. He didn’t look up. “Tessa.”
“I’m just asking.”
“I know what you’re asking. And I’m saying no.” He finally met my eyes, the weight in his stare heavy. “Your body is not ready for that kind of strain. We’ve talked about this.”
“But I’m okay now. I haven’t had a rejection episode in almost a year—”
“That doesn’t mean it won’t happen.” His voice dropped. “I won’t watch you go through that again.”
It wasn’t my body. It was fear. Richard’s fear. His overprotectiveness. His insistence that my body was too fragile, too broken, too risky.
After my eye transplant, Richard became obsessed with protecting me, especially from anything that could possibly trigger rejection. He’d spoken to countless doctors, researched all the risks. One even mentioned that the hormonal changes during pregnancy could interfere with my immune system and increase the chances of my body rejecting the donor organ.
From that day on, Richard wouldn’t even entertain the thought of having a child. He said it was for my sake. That he couldn’t bear the thought of losing me. I believed him.
I swallowed the knot in my throat and took the packet from his hand. The pills were tiny. Almost insignificant. I washed it down with the water he gave me, no longer hungry for a fight.
That night, we made love.
There was nothing rushed or wild about it. Richard was gentle, reverent even. His fingers skimmed along the bandage near my eye, and his mouth found my lips with soft insistence. But it was when he was inside me, his rhythm unhurried, that I felt something deeper tugging at me... longing, perhaps, or heartbreak.
Just before he climaxed, he kissed my eyelids one by one, like he always did.
“They’re the most beautiful eyes in the world,” he murmured against my skin. “I’d give you a thousand more if it meant keeping you here with me.”
I wanted to tell him that all I really wanted was a part of him growing inside of me. But I stayed quiet.
He fell asleep quickly after, breathing slow and even beside me.
I didn’t.
Around 3 a.m., the cramps began. Violent, twisting, like something inside me was rejecting everything I’d forced it to accept. I shot up from the bed and rushed to the bathroom, barely making it to the sink before I threw up.
Bile, tonic… and the faint taste of that tiny white pill.
I stared at the mess for a long time, chest heaving, palms braced on the counter.
Had I just undone the very thing Richard had tried so hard to enforce?
Was it an accident?
Or it was meant to happen?
I rinsed my mouth, washed my face, and padded back toward the bedroom. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of Richard’s phone on the nightstand. A message banner flickered across the screen.
SKYLINE HOSPITAL: Miss Stacy has finally woken up. The surgery can proceed at any time.
I froze.
Who the hell was Miss Stacy?
And what surgery?
The day had been long. Longer than most. Even after everything that happened, the stolen project, the chaos, the silent tension between everyone on the executive floor… my face remained composed. But inside… everything felt like it was shifting.I had spent hours in my office, keeping my head down, working through files while the storm brewed quietly in Richard’s. I could sense his presence without needing to look up. The energy around him was… heavy. Like something had broken and was trying, desperately, not to bleed out.It wasn’t my business. At least, not outwardly.I had my own part to play.I gathered my things slowly when the clock finally blinked 7:42 p.m. Christine had texted earlier that Zane had eaten and was already curled up in bed with his favorite bedtime story. That was my signal to breathe. I was free to go.I reached for my handbag, pushing a pen behind my ear as I took one last glance at the work I’d pushed aside most of the day. I stacked the files, slipped my lapt
Camilla’s POV The corridors of Anderson Global always had this sterile quiet around noon. Most of the staff were either at lunch or hidden behind frosted glass panels. I preferred it that way… it meant less chit-chat, less curious eyes. I clutched the thin manila folder in my hand… a revised schematic update for project’s upper level eco-balcony integration. It wasn’t urgent, but Richard had asked me to bring it up once it was ready, and I had just finalized it. I figured I’d get it over with before grabbing a late lunch. I adjusted my blazer and nudged his office door open with a soft knock. “Mr. Anderson—” I stopped. Richard was standing behind his desk, one hand gripping the edge, the other fisted in his hair like he was seconds away from ripping it out. His back was half-turned toward me, but I could see his knuckles pale and
Richard’s POV It was already past noon when I finally pulled myself together and drove to the office. Rain pelted the windshield as I sat at a red light, one hand gripping the steering wheel while the other tapped restlessly on my thigh. I hadn’t slept well. My mind had been a whirlwind of Camilla’s voice, the flash of fire in her eyes, the way she’d looked at me before storming out the night before. I hadn’t been able to breathe right since. She didn’t just walk out of my house, she walked out of whatever fragile thing was building between us. It hurt more than I was willing to admit. And now, heading into work, I wasn’t sure how to face her. Would she even look at me? Would she pretend like none of it happened? I couldn’t blame her if she did. By the time I stepped into the building, I barely acknowledged the greetings I received. I was soaked, unshaven, and just barely holding it together. On the surface, I was the CEO. The boss. But inside… everything felt like it was fray
The rain had slowed to a drizzle by the time I pulled into the office parking lot. It was past 10 a.m. unlike me. I rarely ever came in this late, but the events of last night had left my mind spinning. I had barely slept, haunted by the stinging echo of Stacy’s voice. Don’t like the taste? Or are you allergic to it, Tessa? She’d said my name like it was a loaded gun, aiming straight for the part of me I’d spent years burying beneath a new name, a new city, and a carefully curated life. Even now, the thought of her watching me as I drank that juice, the faint twitch of satisfaction in her smile… it made my chest tighten. I stepped into the building, shook off the umbrella, and walked briskly toward my office. Most of the staff I passed gave me polite nods or warm good mornings. But something felt… off. Like air thick with static before a storm. When I turned down the hall leading to my office, I slowed. The door was slightly ajar. Odd. I frowned. I never left it like that
After dinner at Richard’s house…I drove in silence, letting the city blur around me as if the night could wash away the burning in my throat. The moment I closed the car door behind me outside Richard’s home, I told myself not to fall apart. Not yet. I could still taste the mango juice. That acidic sweetness clung to my tongue like a warning. It scratched down my throat, curled in my chest like smoke. My body didn’t erupt into a full blown allergic reaction, not because it didn’t try but because I’d prepared. I always prepare. Stacy may think she’s smart, but she’s also obvious. From the moment Caleb told me about her visit to my stepmother’s house, I knew she was digging. That wasn’t curiosity, that was war. And tonight? That was her first strike. A glass of mango juice. So elegant. So simple. So quietly vicious. And yet… it didn’t catch me off guard. Not fully. I’d ta
Aside the location Richard sent, the driveway curved just like I remembered it. The tall pines swayed gently in the breeze, casting shadows across the manicured lawn as I pulled up to the front of the house I used to call home. But I wasn’t here to walk down memory lane, I was here to remind myself why I left it behind. The lights inside glowed like a beacon of the life I once imagined. The life I was robbed of. As I stepped out of the car, my heels tapped against the familiar stone pavement. I inhaled sharply, forcing down the lump rising in my throat. “Get a grip, Camilla,” I muttered under my breath. “This isn’t your home anymore. This is just another battlefield.” Before I could reach the door, it opened... almost like it had been watching, waiting. “Good evening, ma’am,” said the housekeeper. Lydia. The moment our eyes met, her face paled. Her lips trembled. She knew. The sa