Chapter 10 : Confrontation

EVENING – LUTHER’S MANSION

The chandeliers above cast a golden glow across the luxurious sitting room, but the atmosphere was ice-cold the moment Sarah stepped in. She halted mid-step when she saw Andrew sitting at the center like a king ready to sentence a traitor.

His sharp, unreadable gaze cut through her like glass.

“Good evening,” she said quietly, adjusting her purse and trying to move past him.

But his voice struck like a whip.

“Where are you coming from?” Andrew asked, low and dangerous.

She turned slowly, confusion knitting her brow. “From my friend’s house.”

He laughed. Cold. Mocking. Brutal.

“Really? A friend’s house... or your lover’s?”

Sarah blinked. “What?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me, Sarah,” he snarled.

Without warning, he flung a set of photos across the room. They scattered like sharp-edged confetti, some fluttering to the floor, others smacking against her chest before drifting down.

Sarah bent down and picked them up.

And froze.

Her own face stared back at her from a photo of her hugging someone outside the hospital.

Her heart dropped.

“Where... where did you get this?” she whispered.

Andrew stood now, looming like a storm about to break. “Surprised? That I found out about your little secret?”

“I can explain—”

“Oh, please do.” His voice was a roar. “Explain how my wife, Mrs. Luther, lied about visiting a female friend and was instead caught playing house with some mystery man in public!”

His voice cracked through the room.

“You know what the media will say? How fast will the headlines explode?”

He gestured with a mocking flourish. “‘Mrs. Luther Caught Flirting With Her Secret Lover Outside Hospital—Marriage in Shambles?”

“That’s not what happened,” Sarah said, her voice shaking. “You’ve got it all wrong.”

“Oh, it’s a mistake now?” he sneered, stalking back to his seat.

He opened a drawer and retrieved another envelope—this time white, sealed, and ominous. “Then maybe you’d like to explain this.”

Sarah hesitated before walking forward. Her fingers were trembling as she took the envelope and opened it.

Time froze.

Her blood ran cold.

It was the test result.

Her pregnancy test.

She looked up at him, stunned. “Where did you get this?”

Andrew’s eyes burned with fury. “Don’t deflect. Explain it. Right now. Before I completely lose it.”

“Andrew, I—”

“Don’t lie to me again, Sarah. Are you pregnant?”

Silence. A pause stretched long enough to suffocate them both.

“Yes,” she finally whispered.

He laughed. But it wasn’t joy—it was disbelief. Rage. Betrayal. “You’re fucking pregnant and you didn’t think to tell me? Are you serious?”

“I didn’t know how to—”

“Because it’s his, right?” he spat. “That man in the picture? You’re carrying his child, aren’t you?”

Sarah reeled back as if he’d slapped her. Her throat tightened.

“That’s what this is about?” she said, her voice rising. “The baby? You think I’d actually do something that cruel?”

“You didn’t think twice before sneaking around,” he shot back. “What else am I supposed to think?”

“That I’m still a human being who deserves one ounce of your trust!” she cried, her voice cracking.

“Then tell me whose baby it is, Sarah!” he roared, his face contorted in raw fury.

She took a step closer, her eyes blazing with tears.

“It’s yours, Andrew,” she said, every word like a blow. “The baby is yours.”

The room went silent.

“You can do all the damn tests you want. Blood, DNA—I don’t care. But this child is yours. Yours. And if you can’t believe that, then maybe this marriage was never more than just a contract to you.”

Tears streamed down her face as she turned her back on him.

Andrew stood frozen, fists clenched, a whirlwind of emotions ripping through him—confusion, guilt, disbelief. His world was spinning. Nothing made sense.

And for the first time… it looked like Sarah wasn’t the only one breaking.

Andrew stood frozen in the middle of the hallway, stunned by Sarah’s confession.

“What did you just say?” he asked, voice low, barely keeping the tremble out.

Sarah faced him, jaw clenched, tears brimming but refusing to fall. Her voice came sharp and steady. “You heard me, Andrew. I’m pregnant.”

A pause.

“But not for someone else,” she added, each word like a slap of truth. “The baby is yours.”

Andrew staggered back a step like the air had been punched from his lungs. “Shit,” he muttered, running both hands through his hair in one wild motion.

“I’m going upstairs,” Sarah said flatly, not waiting for a response as she turned and walked off, spine stiff with restrained fury.

Ten Minutes Later…

He didn’t knock.

Andrew pushed open her bedroom door, finding Sarah on the bed, her laptop open, fingers flying across keys, eyes scanning the screen with laser focus.

“Sarah,” he began, his voice rough. “We need to talk.”

She didn’t even look up. “Talk? Now you want to talk?” she bit out. “After storming out, throwing accusations, and believing whatever lies Lena spoon-fed you?”

“I made a mistake.”

“You think?” she snapped, slamming the laptop shut. “You saw a few photos and jumped to conclusions like a man on fire. You didn’t ask. You didn’t trust me. You just... decided.”

“I know. And I accept that,” he said, stepping further into the room, tension rolling off him like heat waves. “I screwed up. But this… this changes everything.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What changes? Because all I heard downstairs was you muttering ‘shit’ like the world just collapsed. Doesn’t exactly scream thrilled father-to-be.”

Andrew exhaled heavily. “It’s not that. I am happy. But you don’t get it—this is dangerous.”

“Oh, here we go,” she said, rising to her feet. “Another control speech. Let me guess—you want me to quit digging into my parents’ case again? To play the obedient wife, smile, stay quiet, and pop out a baby in peace?”

“Yes,” he said simply, seriously. “That’s exactly what I want.”

She blinked, disbelief stretching across her face.

“Because if you won’t think about yourself, at least think about the child,” he continued, eyes locking with hers. “Whatever you’re chasing—it’s not worth risking their life.”

Sarah laughed—short, sharp, cold. “You mean your child’s life. Not mine, right?”

His jaw clenched.

“I see how it is,” she said bitterly. “You care about the baby. Not me. Not what I’m going through. Not the fact that I’ve been keeping this secret, terrified of what you’d do or say. You only care because it’s your blood.”

“Don’t twist my words,” he warned.

“No need,” she said, folding her arms. “You made yourself perfectly clear. I’m just the incubator in this arrangement, right? Mrs. Luthor by name, a liability by your standards.”

Andrew’s voice darkened. “Sarah. Drop the case. I mean it. If anything happens to my child…”

She cut him off, fire blazing in her eyes. “What, Andrew? You’ll what? Threaten me again? I’m not afraid of you.”

“You should be afraid of losing everything.”

She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I already have. My parents. My peace. My name. And now, even the father of my child sees me as a threat.”

He looked at her, silent for a moment. There was pain in his eyes, but also something unreadable. Calculating. Distant.

“Don’t dig further,” he said finally. “There’s nothing left to find. The deeper you go, the more dangerous it becomes.”

“I’m already in deep, Andrew,” she replied. “And I’ll drown in it if I have to—but I will find the truth.”

A beat.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“No. I’m just not yours to control.”

Andrew stared at her, the tension between them thick and suffocating, before turning and walking out without another word.

The door slammed shut.

“Bastard,” Sarah whispered to the empty room.

She dropped back onto the bed, reopening her laptop, hands trembling as she scrolled through files, images, and documents. Nothing.

It was all gone. Wiped clean.

Her leads. Her notes. Her digital trail. Erased like it never existed.

Fear trickled into her chest.

Someone was one step ahead.

She stared blankly at the screen, the gravity of it all crashing over her. But even through the fear, something else stirred—relief. Relief that Andrew hadn’t rejected the child. That, despite all his anger, he didn’t deny it.

It was the smallest win in a battlefield of chaos.

But as she lay back, staring at the ceiling, one truth rang louder than the rest:

This was war.

Polish this chapter with fast fast-paced plot writing method and tone