Chapter Six: The beginning of the end.

ELIJAH’S POV

“Sir, I think you’ve had enough drinks for the night,” the bartender said cautiously.

“Nonsense! I'm paying you for the drinks, ain't I? Now do your job before I buy this place and fire you myself!” I barked. My glass was empty. The sleeves of my white shirt were rolled up, and my patience wore thin.

“But sir, this is your fourth—”

“How dare you question me?! Do you know who you're talking to?!” I snapped, my speech slurred, vision spinning slightly. Maybe I had drunk more than I thought.

Seeing I wasn’t going to get another drink, I got off the barstool, exasperated and ready to storm out—until I locked eyes with the last man I ever wanted to see.

Liam Styles.

My fists clenched instinctively. My jaw tightened, and the veins in my temple throbbed.

“Ah, Elijah,” Liam drawled mockingly, straightening his already perfect navy suit. “I see you haven’t changed one bit.”

He still had the same stupid haircut. The smugness. The oversized bodyguard trailing behind like a shadow.

“I don’t have time for your foolishness, Liam,” I sneered.

“Oh please,” he said, settling on a barstool beside mine. “Still mad over that incident years ago? Let it go. I'm just back in town... for business.”

“Business?” I spat. “You nearly got someone killed with your idiotic tech experiments. I’d rather die than ever partner with you again!”

Instead of rising to anger, Liam smirked and turned to the bartender. “One margarita,” he said coolly.

He sat down beside me, his bodyguard stiff behind him. I didn’t flinch. This guy couldn’t scare me—I’d break his nose if he gave me a reason.

“A little bird told me,” he said casually, “you had your secretary arrested for attempted murder. Your reputation as a ‘strong businessman’ is circling the drain. I’m only here to offer you help.”

I scoffed. “Help? From you? I’m not that desperate. The day our friendship ended, so did everything else.”

I stood and began to walk away, fed up with his fake sincerity.

“The game has just begun, Elijah. This is only the beginning,” Liam muttered, his voice dark and menacing.

Rage boiled through my veins, and my hand twitched, aching to land a punch. But just then, Laura’s face flashed in my mind. Her calm eyes. Her soft voice. The only person who ever made me think twice.

“Why do I keep thinking about that dreadful woman?” I muttered to myself as I got into the car and drove off into the night.

****

When I reached the mansion, Astrid greeted me with a glass of water and tried to hug me.

“Don’t touch me,” I snapped, taking the glass and pushing her aside. I stormed to my room, furious.

All I could think about was making Laura pay. The water tasted…off, but I was too drunk to care. My mind was spinning again.

The door creaked open.

Astrid stood there.

Wearing Laura’s gown.

She stepped toward me, and I blinked in confusion. For a second, I saw Laura’s face. It made my blood boil. But my limbs grew heavier by the second. I stumbled back onto the bed. Dizzy. Weak. Numb.

****

THE NEXT MORNING

I woke to find Astrid in my bed.

Her hand was on my chest.

I bolted upright, sheets clutched around my waist, head pounding. “What the hell?! Astrid, what are you doing here?!”

She looked hurt. “You wanted me here,” she said softly.

“I did?! Did we... Do anything happen?”

She looked down and nodded, tears forming. “Yes. You called me here. You said you missed me.”

I froze.

Guilt. Confusion. Disgust. I couldn’t remember a damn thing. All I could recall was the room spinning.

“Oh Elijah, don’t be angry,” she whispered, voice trembling. She reached for the inhaler on the lampstand and wheezed dramatically.

I wanted to feel pity—but I was too disgusted. Furious at myself.

I turned away and slammed my fist on the nightstand, shattering the glass on it.

“GET OUT!” I roared. “I don’t ever want to see you in my bed again!”

Astrid wrapped herself in a robe and slowly walked out. I turned to the window, breathing heavily.

The only woman I had ever truly touched… was Laura.

Now I had this.

This mistake.

*****

LAURA’S POV

The jail smelled like rust and mildew. My tiny cell had a half-working toilet and a cracked bedframe. No roommates. No one to talk to. The guards watched me like I was some violent criminal.

I barely ate.

If Ms. Ivy Reed hadn’t secretly sent food, I would’ve starved.

A month in, I started feeling sick. Weak. Nauseated. Constant cramps.

I was pregnant.

No doctor. No checkups. No comfort. Just me—and this baby. Elijah’s baby.

Each day in this rotting hell, my hate for Elijah grew. My stomach grew with it. The uniform could barely stretch over my belly, but no one offered a larger size. I was a criminal in their eyes—less than human.

The guards beat me for no reason. Forced me into hard labor in the fields. I was nothing. My baby was nothing to them.

*****

Nine months later

I was exhausted and heavy. Too tired to even cry.

When the contractions hit, they sent lightning bolts through my spine. I screamed in agony.

“HELP! I’m in labor!”

The guards sneered. “Probably faking it.”

“I’M NOT!” I cried, my voice raw and broken.

The pain was too much. I screamed again, gripping the edge of the bed. The baby's head was coming out. Only then did they call a doctor.

She arrived just in time.

After pushing with every bit of strength I had, I delivered a beautiful baby boy.

Then, another pain hit.

Another baby.

“What? There’s another one?” I gasped.

“Push, Laura. You’re strong. Just one more,” the doctor urged.

After an agonizing delivery, I held them both. A boy and a girl.

Twins.

Both Elijah’s copies—but my son had my blonde hair and blue eyes.

“I’ll name you… Jimmy and Luna,” I whispered, a smile cracking through my tears.

Luna, after my late sister.

For a moment, there was peace.

Until she arrived.

Astrid.

She walked in with no bump—no sign she’d ever been pregnant.

“What are you doing here, witch?!” I screamed.

“Calm down,” she said coldly. “I’m here to take what’s mine.”

My eyes widened. No… No, she couldn’t mean—

“You can’t take them. Please!” I begged.

“They’re Elijah’s. And they deserve a better life than this dump. I’m doing you a favor,” she smirked.

“No! You can’t—!”

The guards didn’t even hesitate. They ripped my twins from my arms and handed them to Astrid.

“Laura,” the doctor said gently. “They need proper care. Nutrition. It’s not safe here.”

I stood, shaking. My legs barely held me. I looked at my twins, at Astrid’s disgusting grin.

“This isn’t over,” I hissed. “If anything happens to them, I’ll have your head.”

She faltered for a moment—then walked out, victorious.

I collapsed onto the bed, still sticky with blood and pain. The cell stank of rot and despair. The floor held the memory of what I’d just lost.

No tears came. Just fury.

I would rise again.

I would get my babies back.

And I would make them all pay.