Four

Sunlight spilled across the ivory sheets like liquid honey, golden and soft against the chilled air of the Blackwood mansion.

Franklin stirred, shifting until his arms found Yulia.

He drew her closer, one arm settling around her waist while her hands slid up to rest against his neck. The warmth between them felt earned. No more hurried hotel rooms. No more careful phone calls. Thalia was gone.

“Good morning, Mrs. Blackwood,” he murmured against her ear.

They married in secret two years ago in an intimate ceremony abroad, followed by a quiet honeymoon in London.

On paper, Franklin was still bound to Thalia. He delayed, stalled, and avoided the final legal steps for far too long. Now, with Yulia carrying his child, he no longer cared about appearances. The private vows they had spoken were enough for him. The rest of the world could catch up.

“Morning, Frank.” Yulia pressed a soft kiss to his bare chest.

“Did you sleep well?”

Their fingers found each other without thought. His free hand drifted lower, resting on the gentle curve of her stomach. Not large yet, but unmistakable. The knowledge still settled something deep in his chest. She was giving him the family he had always wanted.

“I did,” she said. “Having you here gives me peace. Not like when you still had to go home to that barren woman.”

The cold edge in her voice made him smile against her skin.

“She’s gone,” he said. “It’s us now.”

He kissed her, deeper this time. She answered him with a soft moan, pulling him closer. His hand rose to cup her breast, thumb brushing over her nipple until she arched into him. For a few long minutes the rest of the world did not exist.

His phone rang on the nightstand. Neither of them noticed.

The screen lit up with the contact name MOM and a string of heart emojis.

Delilah Blackwood dialed again, jaw tight. She had seen the photos Yulia posted the night before—one of them a short video of Yulia kissing Franklin, captioned *We’re back together, legally*.

Franklin was still married to Thalia. How could any of this be legal? Her son could not simply walk away from the woman who had steadied him. Delilah had watched the change herself. Before Thalia, Franklin had lived like a spoiled boy who never expected consequences. Parties. Drinking. Reckless spending. Thalia had somehow made him care about more than his own pleasure. Yulia had never managed that. Franklin had been obsessed with her once, but the real shift in him had only come with Thalia.

When he still did not answer, Delilah set the phone down and spoke to her driver.

“Get the car. I’m going to see my son.” She had meetings scheduled. She would cancel all of them.

Inside the bedroom, Franklin finally pulled away with a low sound, still catching his breath.

“Your phone,” Yulia said quietly.

He glanced at the screen. “Mom.”

Yulia’s mouth curved. She had always known Delilah disliked her. The video would have reached her by now.

Franklin drew Yulia back against his chest while he returned the call. Her fingers traced idle patterns over his skin, a private smile playing at the corners of her lips.

“It’s already too late, Delilah,” she whispered against him. “He’s mine. Nothing you say will change that.”

---

(George's Apartment)

Thalia opened her eyes slowly. Soft sheets. An unfamiliar ceiling. Warmth.

For a moment she lay there, trying to place herself. Then her gaze found the man standing beside the bed.

Dark hair. Steel-grey eyes. A trimmed beard. A black shirt fitted to a strong frame.

Something about him felt known.

“You…” Her voice came out rough.

His expression softened at once. “You remember me?”

Memory returned in pieces. Three years ago, before she married Franklin, her closest friend Eliana had accused this man of rape.

He got him arrested.

Thalia had never believed the story. She gathered the evidence herself of Eliana’s own recorded confession and used it to free him. He thanked her, promised he would repay the debt one day, and then left the city.

Last night he found her standing in the rain and brought her here without asking questions.

“I do,” she whispered with a nod.

He sat carefully on the edge of the bed.

When she tried to sit up, he adjusted the pillows behind her.

“What happened to you?” The question held both concern and the curiosity he had been holding back since he carried her inside.

Thalia’s throat tightened. “It’s a long story.”

He brushed a tear from her cheek with the back of his thumb.

“I’ve got time, you can tell me.”

She told him everything. The pregnancy. The moment she realized Franklin didn't choose her. The slow understanding that she had only ever been a convenient to him while he remained in love with her sister.

George listened without interrupting. When she finished, he took her hand.

“Can I say something?”

She nodded.

“Your world may have betrayed you, but I’m here. For you and for that baby.”

The words landed with quiet weight. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

She leaned into his chest and he held her through it, steady and silent.

When she finally pulled back, her eyes were red.

“Thalia,” he said carefully, “I know the child isn’t mine by blood. But I’d like to be the father. I want to be there for both of you, if you’ll let me.”

She stared at him. “You’d do that?”

“You once gave up your friendship to save me. Let me stand with you now.”

She searched his face and found no pity, only resolve.

“I don’t want this because you feel you owe me.”

“I’m not doing it for that reason.” His voice stayed even. “I’m doing it because you deserve to be protected. You deserve more than being discarded.”

“We barely know each other.”

“You don’t have to decide anything today. Just think about it.” He started to rise, giving her space, but her hand caught his wrist.

“George, please don’t go, stay.”

He sat again and she rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes. The betrayal made her her heart achd but right now it feels like she was no longer alone.

A phone buzzed in his pocket.

He drew it out and handed it to her, it was her phone. An unknown number. One tap opened an image.

It loaded in seconds. The damage hit faster.

Franklin stood in a tuxedo. Beside him, Yulia wore a peach lace gown. Beneath the photograph sat a single line of text:

*You were just a rehearsal and I was the real bride.*

Thalia’s body went rigid. A broken sound caught in her throat.

George noticed at once. “Thalia?”

She turned the phone toward him with shaking hands.

His eyes moved from the image to the caption.

“What the hell?!”

“He married her,” she whispered. Then louder, gripping his shirt: “He married her, George. My husband just married my sister.”

The phone rang again. Franklin’s name filled the screen. George answered before she could reach for it.

“She won’t speak to you.”

“Who the hell are you?” Franklin’s voice snapped through the speaker.

“Her new life.” George shot back. "So back off and don’t you dare call this number you ingrate!"