Se connecterI go out to find him talking to the cop on duty. He's formally dressed today, but he looks like he ruffled a little, almost like he came here in a rush. I don't like that I notice.
Lucien notices my presence and crosses the space between us fast until he's only a few feet away from me."Are you okay?" he asks, his voice a little frayed, stripped of the cold edges I'm used to hearing from him. Up close, his cedarwood scent reaches me, heavier than usual. It smells like adren"I'm not going to your place," I stand up fast and move away before he subdues me with his scent. Then I cross my arms protectively over my chest.âYou donât really have a choice, Evelyn.ââStop calling me that! Ms Lily is fine. And my insignificant self doesn't deserve to be in your mighty present, just in case you forgot.âHe stares at me for a moment, then chuckles. "Donât get me wrong, this isn't about you. I don't care about your safety, Ms Lily." he says, venom threading his words. "But it's my child you're carrying.""A child you don't even want," I shoot at him, sharp enough to cut."Then get rid of it,â He says, as he steps closer. "End it so we can all put this mess behind us. Isn't that what you want too, at this point? What do you want? Money? A better life? Iâll give it to you.""I don't have to do anything you say," I say, forcing my gaze to stay on his even as they crack under the weight of his words. âIt's Ce
I go out to find him talking to the cop on duty. He's formally dressed today, but he looks like he ruffled a little, almost like he came here in a rush. I don't like that I notice. Lucien notices my presence and crosses the space between us fast until he's only a few feet away from me."Are you okay?" he asks, his voice a little frayed, stripped of the cold edges I'm used to hearing from him. Up close, his cedarwood scent reaches me, heavier than usual. It smells like adrenaline burning off him, confirming my earlier suspicion that he did rush here."Yes," I say, even though my voice wavers on the word, and suddenly hot tears press behind my eyes again. I press my lips together, refusing to let them fall in front of him.He studies me for a long moment, something unreadable moving behind his eyes. Then he straightens and turns on Ramirez, who has been standing stiffly the whole time."What the hell were you doing?" Lucien barks at him, h
Celeste has me moved again.The new house sits far past the edge of the city, tucked behind a long private drive and a high stone wall that swallows the sound of traffic entirely.It's still as large and modern as the last place â white walls, floor-to-ceiling windows, a kitchen that looks like it belongs in a magazine â but it's just as lonely. Like a lavish prison.And I'm too tired, too hollowed out from the last few weeks to feel anything close to appreciation for it.I move through the rooms like a ghost drifting through someone else's life. I don't unpack and I don't explore like the others.For all I know, this could be just as temporary.All in all, I really hope the time flies by so I can finally put this whole ordeal behind me.For the first few days, exhaustion is the only thing I feel. But then, with time, something else creeps in alongside it. My hair stands on end, and there's a low, prickling unease crawling through me.I don't quite understand how, but I feel like I'm
I wake up to the hum of machines and the sting of an IV taped into the back of my hand. The room is dim, and the curtains are pulled shut against whatever time of day it is outside.For a second I just lie there, disoriented, trying to figure out where I am and why my body feels so empty.Then it hits me all at once â the blood spreading across my pajamas, the panic, Lucien's arms lifting me off the floor. My hand goes to my stomach before I even think about it. Then I relax. Iâm still round. I know that isn't a complete decider but somehow I can still feel it.The baby is still there.A nurse comes by not long after and when she's done with the necessary checks, she slips out. Moments later, Lucien appears in the doorway.He exhales loudly by the door and crosses his arms, jaw tight. He's still wearing the same black jacket from before so that tells me mere hours have passed since he rushed me here. There's a faint rust-colored stain near his cuff, and my stomach turns when I realiz
Neither of us moves at first.Lucien stands just inside the entryway, chest still rising and falling from the effort of pushing through the crowd outside and I notice what heâs wearing.Heâs dressed in a black jacket over a black shirt and a blue pair of jeans. His hair falls in waves over his face and I notice itâs the first time Iâve seen him so casually dressed. Itâs always been suits and ties and formal attire.Never⊠this. Something softens in me and I canât help but think that the look suits him. He looks younger, much younger and some traitorous part of my brain decides heâs stupidly handsome like this. Even more than before. I hate myself for thinking it but I canât help myself.A loud thud at the door jolts me back to the present. Then I remember who he really is. Handsome or not, this man wants his baby dead because he fell out of love with his wife. Heâs been nothing but cruel to me and treats me like Iâm an inconvenience to h
The paparazzi find the new address within thirty-six hours. They camp on the sidewalk out front with their cameras pointed up at the building, waiting for me like a loaded gun. The moment I shift the curtain, flashes half blind me and people scream out questions that make me feel sick. "HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN WITH MR. CROSS?!" "DO YOU THINK HAVING HIS BABY WILL MAKE THE CHILD A LEGITIMATE CROSS HEIR?!" "CELESTE LAURENT! WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY TO HER NOW THAT YOU RUINED HER MARRIAGE?" I snap the windows shut and try not to let their words affect me. It's all a misunderstanding, I remind myself. But it's impossible not to let their words sting. I'm the other woman. Celeste is the wronged wife. And the pregnancy is proof of Lucien's betrayal. Online, the story has already become something much uglier. People have looked into my background, my humble beginnings, and painted me as a desperate gold digger. A social climber. I stand a few feet back from the window, snea







