ARIA IS PREGNANT?

CAELEN VALENTINE'S POV

Present…

“Now you remember her.”

Lucien Thorne’s voice slithered into the room, dark and composed.

I nodded quickly, heart hammering in my chest.

“Two months ago... the girl in black. I remember her.”

“And what did you do to her?”

He asked it with a silky cruelty that made my skin crawl.

“We… we slept together. But it was totally consensual! I swear I didn’t force myself on her!”

My voice cracked as the words stumbled out.

Lucien didn’t react—not a twitch. He simply took another drag from his cigar, the ember glowing like an omen.

A long pause.

Then, through the haze of smoke, he said—

“She’s pregnant. And the child is yours.”

“WHAT?!”

The word exploded out of me, louder than I meant.

Pregnant?

Me?

Some girl?

This couldn’t be real.

No. No, no. I had to have used protection, right?

My head spun. I couldn't remember—too drunk, too stupid.

What kind of cursed karma was this? As if my life wasn't already dangling by threads.

Before I could steady my thoughts—his boot collided with my stomach.

I hit the floor, groaning in agony, struggling to breathe, to move.

I barely managed to lift myself before another kick landed on my back, knocking me flat on my chest, right at his polished black boots.

I looked up, blinking dust and tears away.

He stared down at me like I was a cockroach crawling through his marble halls.

No warmth. No flicker of humanity. Just unblinking, clinical disgust.

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me off the floor like I weighed nothing. My feet dangled midair, pain radiating through my scalp.

“How the fuck did you dare to touch my sister?” he growled.

“And not only touch her—but get her pregnant?”

My entire body trembled in his grip. He wasn’t just furious—he was feral.

“Lucien, please... stop this madness.”

The voice.

Sweet. Soft.

It sliced through the tension like light through mist.

I turned—well, tried to turn—and saw her.

Aria Thorne.

The girl in the black dress.

The one I remembered too late.

She rushed forward, her face glowing with concern.

Even more beautiful than that night.

Her silky chestnut hair was pulled into a low ponytail, tied with a pale-pink satin ribbon. Her lips—rosy. Her cheeks—softly flushed. But her light honey eyes—the same as her brother’s—were filled with empathy.

A storm and a lullaby, all in one face.

“Are you okay?” she asked, kneeling beside me.

There was more than concern in her voice.

It was guilt. As if she was to blame for this.

God, how is she even real?

“Why should he be okay, Aria?” Lucien snapped through clenched teeth.

I groaned, trying to sit up. Every rib protested.

“Lucien, stop. He’s the father of my unborn child,” she said firmly.

He turned to her, jaw clenched.

“Exactly. That’s why he doesn’t deserve to live.”

“Enough!”

Her voice was steel this time.

“I’m taking him to the guest suite. You’re not to come near him again.”

Before Lucien could argue, a tall man emerged from the shadows. His name was Ilya Drakov, if I recalled right—Lucien’s personal enforcer. Silent. Grim.

He scooped me up effortlessly—bridal style.

Fucking hell.

Being half-dead was bad.

Being carried like a princess by a mafia grunt? Even worse.

.

Now I lay in a ridiculously plush bed, covered in bruises, skin painted in violet and red agony.

Aria Thorne.

That’s her name. Just saying it in my head feels unreal.

The name is made for fairy tales. Meanwhile, her brother’s name feels like a curse carved in stone.

“How are you feeling now?”

Her melodic voice pulled me from my sulking. She entered the room with a middle-aged man trailing behind—a doctor, by the look of it.

“Like I got hit by a freight train. Honestly? I’d take being mauled by a bear over another round with your brother. At least a bear has the decency to kill quick. Your brother? He savors it.”

I managed a weak grin.

She laughed softly.

“My brother’s still single, in case you’re wondering.”

No wonder.

Who would willingly marry a psychopath in a white shirt soaked in someone else’s blood?

The doctor, unfortunately, was no less merciless. His check-up felt like another round of torture. After a rough exam, he scribbled down something and declared:

“Bedrest. One full week. Minimal movement.”

Fantastic. A whole week with nothing but bruises and a mafia princess for company.

Later, the house manager brought in some clothes. Even helped me change, bless him. I was too sore to be embarrassed.

“How’s the pain now, Caelen?”

Aria stepped in again, this time with Lucien beside her.

Oh no. Not again.

I got a proper look at him now.

Lucien Thorne in the flesh.

White shirt, still faintly stained with my blood. Sleeves rolled up. Veins lining his muscular forearms. His jaw flexing.

I hate him.

But also… I kind of want to punch myself for noticing how obscenely attractive he is.

“Better, thanks to you.”

I said quickly, blinking the thoughts away.

“Why thank me?” she asked, tilting her head.

“It was the doctor who treated you.”

Lucien snorted.

“No. She saved your life. Without her, I’d have snapped your spine by now.”

His voice was smooth but heavy with menace.

So different from hers—light and warm like sunlight through lace.

How could two people from the same bloodline be so wildly opposite?

If someone ever wrote a book on them, they'd be legendary.

The Angel and the Executioner.

“Lucien!” Aria snapped.

He ignored her and turned to me.

“Hey. You.”

His stare locked on mine.

“You’re going to marry my sister. After the baby’s born.”

He didn’t wait for my reaction. Just tossed the command like a grenade and walked out.

Just like that.

No discussion. No question.

“Don’t worry about him,” Aria said softly, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“You should rest.”

She followed her brother out, leaving me with the quiet and the ache of everything that just happened.

And now…

Here I am.

Alone.

Bruised.

About to be a father.

And apparently engaged to a mafia heiress.

Just another day in hell, I guess.