LOGINI did my best to look presentable and not like I had been crying all day in my room
The address Ines sent wasn’t a restaurant or an office. It was a private floor of a building downtown, the kind with a separate elevator bank and a keycard reader instead of a lobby directory. A woman was waiting for me when the elevator opened, mid-thirties, I think, composed in the specific way people are when discretion is part of their job description. “Ms. Ferro. Thank you for coming on short notice. Mr. Reyes is just through here.” I didn’t remember agreeing to give her my name or to be thanked for anything. But I kept that thought to myself and I followed her down a hallway lined with windows overlooking a city I suddenly felt very small in. She stopped at a wide double door, knocking once. ‘Sir, Ms. Ferro is here,’ she announced, before giving me a curt smile and leaving. My hands shook as I reached for the door handle, realizing that behind this door is the father of my child. He was standing when I walked in. Not sitting behind some desk like I’d half-expected, just standing near the window, hands in his pockets, like he hadn’t decided whether this was a meeting or not. He was younger than his photos suggested, or maybe just more tired. Dark hair, a jaw set hard enough that I understood immediately why he never smiled in pictures, it didn’t look like an expression that came easily to him. “Ms. Ferro.” His voice was quieter than I expected from a man with a building named after his dead wife. “Thank you for coming.” I cleared my throat, trying to shake off my nervousness. “I didn’t feel like I had much of a choice.” His expression softened just slightly. Recognition, maybe, like he’d expected me to say something sharper and was almost relieved I hadn’t. I crossed my arms, mostly to keep my hands from shaking. “Then let’s start with what you do know. Because I spent the last six hours finding out my husband left me, and that the baby I’m carrying belongs to a stranger who apparently owns half the skyline.” “You’re a divorcee?,” he asked “Yes but that's not the part I need you to focus on.” “No,” he agreed. “It isn’t.” “Then focus,” I said. “Tell me exactly what your ‘stake’ in this is. Not in careful sentences. Say it plainly.” I stated, knowing the risk. Either he claims full rights to the child or worse, removes me from the picture. The thought alone made me shiver inside “I need you to understand something,” he said, with a serious undertone . “I didn’t ask for this to happen to you. I would never have chosen this for anyone..” “Thanks for the sympathy for me,” I said sarcastically, my voice rising. “I’ve had one person today decide what I deserve to know and when. I’m not doing that twice in the same day.” His jaw tightened, and I silently swallowed a gulp but tried to keep up my confidence “It’s not simple,” he said finally. “Try.” He held my gaze as if thinking whether to tell me or not. He looked like he might actually answer, and then didn’t. The silence went on a beat too long, and something in me, some leftover reflex from the hallway with Ines, from Trent’s folder on the dresser, refused to stand still for it a second time. “Forget it.” I turned toward the door. “I don’t need to sign anything or agree to anything tonight. I came because Dr Ines made it sound urgent. It’s not urgent. It’s just inconvenient, for both of us.” “Noelle.” It was the first time he’d used my first name. I stopped, hand already on the door frame. My heart was racing and my hand was turning cold, I didn’t know if I should be offended that he used my first name or not. I slowly turned back to face him, his gaze watching my every move “That sample wasn’t a mistake I can undo, even if the process that led to you having it was.” He held my gaze, and for the first time since I’d walked in, something in his composure cracked, just slightly. “It’s the only one I have left.” The room went very quiet. “What does that mean?” “That’s not something I can explain tonight,” he said. “Not yet.”That night I couldn’t sleep, not only because of the tension but the twins were moving around too much. It started as a slow roll beneath my ribs, then a sharp little jab, then something that felt a lot like both of them deciding to practice somersaults at once. I opened my eyes to gray morning light and pressed my palm against my stomach, wincing. "Easy," I whispered. "I'm up. I'm up." I sighed tiredly One of them kicked again, harder, and a dull, stretching ache pulled low across my belly. Not sharp, not the tight, unfamiliar pressure from the other day. Just uncomfortable, like my skin had grown a size too small overnight. I shifted onto my side, tried a deep breath, and felt the whole bed dip as Dorian sat up beside me. We slept together more often now "What is it?" He was awake all at once, his hand already on my shoulder, his voice scraped raw with sleep. "Noelle." "I'm okay." I smiled through it, thinking the babies were just being playful "You're holding your stomach
My body stretched out sluggish as I tried to fully wake up, my eyes were still heavy from sleeping and the room quiet. It took me about ten more minutes to fully wake up and sit up in bed, I rubbed my underbelly to get my body moving, before standing up. After using the toilet, I went to the study to look for Dorian. The study was empty. His chair was pushed back from the desk, his laptop open, a half-drunk cup of coffee gone cold beside it. For a second the empty room made my stomach dip, the way it had that morning in the hospital, until I heard a clatter drift up from the kitchen, followed by Marta's voice, low and amused. I followed the sound down the hall. The smell of garlic and butter and something warm and savory that made my mouth water before I'd even reached the kitchen. I stopped in the doorway, the table was already set and covered Dorian stood at the stove with his back to me, sleeves rolled to the elbow, a dish towel slung over one shoulder. A pan sizzled in fro
I waited until her breathing evened out before I let myself leave. Noelle slept the way she did everything else, fiercely and a little crooked, one hand curled protectively over her stomach, her hair fanned across the pillow like she'd lost an argument with it. I stood at the door longer than I should have. Long enough to watch her chest rise and fall twice. Long enough to remember the sound of her voice saying I love you, small and steady, like it had cost her everything. It had cost me something, too. I just hadn't realized how much until she said it. I closed the door with the quiet click she liked, and went down to my study. Camille had never said it. I'd told myself that was the arrangement, the honest part, the part we never lied about. We'd agreed on the facade and the terms, and love hadn't been on either list. But sitting behind my desk now, staring at the dark screen of my phone, I understood something I'd been avoiding for years: I hadn't missed it with her because I'
The voice note started off cracking. Josie's voice came out thin and strained, like she'd been crying or something “Hey…erm.” She sighs as if struggling to get the words out “I know this…unnecessary but I was just…erm checking on you.” A pause “people make mistakes Noelle. And I know you probably…I mean you do hate me but I just wanted to get it off my chest. I wanted to meet up personally but I’m sure you wouldn’t want to see my face” My hands fisted listening to her, old wounds reopening but I tried to keep my cool “yeah…hope you’re okay though. You might never listen to this but I hope you do” I was getting tired of the sympathies and wanted to end it but the voice note cracked and the tone changed “now that, that’s off my chest” she sighs as if smiling “you have your own faults too you know? I mean…aiming for a rich guy? Well I guess I’m happy for you…but does he know it’s not his? I honestly didn’t think you would stoop so low, and to think you were innocent when you were
Dorian made sure I finished my meal, promising me everything would be fine and honestly I didn’t have the energy to argue. Most of my energy was already going towards the twins. By the time we were done with lunch, Dorian was already on his phone. He set the phone on the table between us. A calm, dry voice came through, the kind that had probably talked down a lot of panicked clients. "Mrs. Reyes, I'm sorry we're meeting this way. Dorian, I've read the piece twice. It's sloppy, but it was timed. Someone wanted it out before you could issue a statement." "Margaret," Dorian said again. "Likely. But likely isn't proof." Elias's tone sharpened. "The article gets the details wrong. It says embryos. Your records say a sample. That matters, because it means whoever leaked this had access to the clinic's file but not the whole file. I'd like to know who." I stared at the phone, my pulse unsteady. “Wait, does that mean she had a spy or something in the hospital?” “That is plausible” E
Dorian had fallen asleep with one arm draped over my waist, his face turned toward my shoulder, the lines that usually sat between his brows finally smoothed away. In sleep he looked younger, and less guarded. Like a man who'd set down something heavy. I stared at the ceiling and tried to make sense of what had just happened to me. Months ago, I would have laughed if someone told me I'd end up here. Not in this house, not with his hand resting on my stomach as if the babies were the most precious thing he'd ever been trusted with, not with my skin still warm from his touch. I'd walked into this marriage thinking it was an arrangement, a way to keep my children safe and my name out of the headlines. I had never planned on wanting him. But I did. God, I did. And it wasn't only the way he'd touched me, though my cheeks heated just thinking about it. It was how careful he'd been, asking at every step, stopping when he thought I might be afraid. Trent had never once asked me what I







