Chapter Twelve

(Selena's POV)

I sat by the window, my knees drawn to my chest, staring blankly at the late afternoon sky. The clouds had a melancholy to them, like they were weighed down by something invisible and suffocating too.

It's been a week since I thought I saw Luca’s face in a sea of strangers at the gala. It's been a week of constant physical and emotional ache.

My stomach churned again, and I pressed my palm over it, shutting my eyes against the nausea that was becoming a near-daily companion. I couldn't eat more than a few bites of toast this morning, and even that felt like it had turned to lead in my gut.

I think it's just the aftermath of stress. The pressure of appearances and how I'm forced to play the perfect wife to a man who hasn’t looked me in the eye since the night he told me never to expect affection.

Speaking of Damien, I haven’t seen him in days. Probably four or five, I've lost track. He comes and goes like a shadow in the night—quiet footsteps, a closing door and faint cologne in the air.

He doesn't speak to me or acknowledge my existence unless it's necessary. I also give him the space he needs. What he does is not my business. I'm just a means to an end anyway. The only thing that bothers me right now is being held in this cage like a prisoner.

The nausea spiked again, and I stumbled to the bathroom. My stomach heaved, but nothing came. Just the dry, burning grip of my body revolting.

When it passed, I stared at myself in the mirror. I looked pale. My lips were cracked and my eyes were dim beneath all the exhaustion I was feeling.

I reached for the edge of the sink, gripping it tightly as a chill ran through me. I need to see a doctor, this is beyond stress. Something could be really wrong.

I waited a moment, then stepped back into the bedroom. My phone laid on the nightstand. I picked it up and dialed the number of the only person I trust right now, Sophia. She picked on the second ring.

“Hey Sel.” Her voice chirped on the other end.

“Hey Soph,” I said sitting at the edge of the bed. “Are you busy?”

“No, what's up?”

“I don't feel too good, I need to go to the hospital and I don't want to go with any of Damien's minions.”

“Alright. I'll be there in a few minutes. Get dressed.” She said and immediately ended the call.

I dropped my phone beside me as I placed my palms on my face. I really hope everything is okay.

*****

The waiting room was a dull, clinical shade of beige, the kind that made everything feel sterile, lifeless, and too quiet for comfort. The hum of fluorescent lights overhead buzzed like white noise, mixing with the faint clicking of a receptionist's keyboard. I sat on the edge of the hard plastic seat, hands folded tightly in my lap, knuckles pale from pressure. Sophia sat beside me, her presence was a lifeline in this sea of uncertainty I was drowning in.

I hate hospitals. The smell of antiseptic and the polished linoleum floors always made me sick.

I stared at the pale green double doors leading to the exam rooms, willing them to open. My thoughts spiraled in the silence. My body didn’t feel like my own anymore—fatigue tugged at my bones, nausea rose without warning, and there was emotional whiplash that has become my reality.

Sophia nudged me gently. “Are you okay?”

I gave a tight nod, biting the inside of my cheek. “Yeah. Just… tired.”

I could tell she didn’t believe me but she didn’t push either. She just reached over and took my hand.

“You did the right thing calling me,” she said quietly. “Whatever it is, you’re not alone, okay?”

I nodded once. I couldn’t speak past the lump in my throat.

The door finally swung open. A woman in a white coat stepped through, her expression warm and friendly. I immediately recognized her, Dr. Emery—she was really kind during the checkup and tests, making me feel at ease. She held a clipboard in her hand.

“Selena Delacroix?” she asked, though her eyes were already on me.

I stood slowly, Sophia squeezed my hand before letting go. Dr. Emery stepped closer, flipping the chart closed. “We’ve got your test results,” she said. “Would you like to step into my office?”

The blood drained from my face. No. I didn’t want the privacy of an office. That meant serious news. I shook my head. “No—please, just tell me here.”

Dr. Emery paused for a moment, then nodded. “All right,” she said softly. “Selena, you’re pregnant. About four weeks along.”

The words dropped like stones, heavy and sharp, crashing into the stillness of the room.

Pregnant.

I blinked.

Pregnant.

The air left my lungs in a sharp gasp as my hand flew instinctively to my stomach, pressing lightly. My legs buckled slightly, and Sophia was immediately by my side, her arms steadying me.

“No,” I whispered, barely audible. “No, that can’t be.”

Dr. Emery’s face remained calm. “We ran multiple tests, it’s accurate. You’re about a month along.”

I shook my head, my breath coming faster. “It’s not possible.” Damien hasn’t touched me.

Which meant…

Luca.

A shiver of panic tore through me. My stomach turned violently, nausea rising like bile. I sat down slowly, clutching the chair tightly, the world tilting sideways. Sophia held me, her voice a whisper against the pounding in my ears.

“Breathe, Selena. Breathe.”

But I couldn’t. My chest was tight, my head was spinning. Pregnant. I'm pregnant. And the child growing inside me—he or she—belongs to the man I had met only once but never stopped thinking about.

Tears burned behind my eyes as I tried to hold them back, but one slid down my cheek, followed by another. Sophia tightened her arms around me in a comforting way.

“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered. “We’ll figure this out.”

But I wasn’t sure we could. I wasn’t sure anything could be okay anymore.

“I can’t do this,” I mumbled, burying my face in her shoulder. “I can’t…”

“Yes, you can,” she said fiercely. “You’re stronger than this, Selena. You always have been.”

Dr. Emery gently placed a pamphlet on the chair beside me. “I’ll give you two a moment,” she said, her voice kind. “But I’d like to schedule your first prenatal visit soon.”

I could only nod, unable to form words. She disappeared through the doors again, leaving us in silence.

Sophia slowly pulled back, brushing the tears from my cheeks. “You need to tell him.”

I let out a dry laugh. “It’s not Damien’s. He hasn’t laid a finger on me since the wedding, not even before.”

Sophia’s eyes widened slightly, but she said nothing. I didn’t need to explain, she already knew.

“It’s Luca's.” I whispered.

She looked down at her lap for a long moment, then back up at me. “Then maybe it’s time to find him. He deserves to know.”

I wasn’t ready. The thought of facing Luca again made my chest clench. But the truth was no longer something I could escape. It lived inside me now, in the flutter of life I hadn’t even known was growing.

This changed everything and nothing at the same time.

I was still trapped. Still married to a man who saw me as a trophy and expected me to smile and play my part.

I reached for Sophia’s hand again, gripping it tightly. “Promise me you won’t leave.”

“Never,” she said without hesitation.

I clung to that one promise like a lifeline even though the fear was still there and my future was more uncertain now than ever.