Chapter 5

Marceline locked the bedroom door with shaking hands and leaned against it.

The tears came hard and fast. She slid down to the floor, her blue dress pooling around her heavily swollen belly, and pressed both palms over her mouth so the sound would not carry into the hallway.

Four years. She had given four years of her life to a man who looked at her like furniture.

She had practiced in secret until her crippled arm burned, applied to the Paris dance academy hoping for a chance, and still ended up here...mockery in the sitting room, cold eyes from her own husband, and a family that treated her like a borrowed object.

“I should have run that day,“ she thought, rocking slightly. “I should have left the dress on the floor and taken the next train back to Grandma’s farm.. I would be dancing by now surrounded by real music. Not this.“

She had overheard the aunts two weeks earlier in the garden. “That arm will never work properly again...Adrian shot her good. The doctors said so. And look at her now....round as a barrel. The Don must be desperate.” They had laughed letting out a cruel laughter that still rang in her ears.

And worse, her own parents never called over the years.

She saw the photos online sometimes...her mother on a yacht, her father at some resort, her mom smiling under tropical sunlight. While Marlina hide behind ghosts accounts, but Marceline knew well Marlina was having the time of her life.

Rumors said the Cross family sent gifts and money every month since the pregnancy became public.

She felt like a pawn in the game. The puppet that was easy to convince, to fool and discard when not needed.

Just then, her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

She picked it up and saw that it was an email notification which lit the screen: subject line from the Paris Dance Academy.

Marceline stared at it for only a split second, then turned the phone face down.

She could not open it while her chest still ached from the words downstairs.

Then door handle rattled hard. A second later the lock gave way under force. Adrian stepped inside, expression flat.

“You’re still being dramatic,” he said. “Victoria was only playing. Everyone else understood that. Did you have to leave like that? We were just playing.”

Marceline pushed herself up from the floor, one hand on the bed for balance. Her voice came out raw.

“Playing? She called me a cripple in front of your colleagues and you sat there. You let her send me for water like a servant. You told them you were drunk the night you touched me. You said you could never accept a country bumpkin.”

Adrian’s jaw tightened. “Lower your voice.”

“No.” The word surprised even her. “I have lowered my voice for four years...Now almost five years... I made your tea. I fixed your contracts. I carried this pregnancy alone while you flew around the world. I fell in love with you after that night in the office because I thought you meant those promises. I was a fool.”

He stared at her as if she had spoken a language he did not recognize.

Then silence stretched. He looked like he was listening to her outburst, but the new power he was experiencing as the new Don made him feel untouchable.

“I never felt the same,” he said finally. “You know that. As soon as the baby is born, you can leave. The contract will be fulfilled.”

Something hot and protective rose in Marceline’s chest. She placed both hands on her belly...Feeling her mothery instincts flare up.

“You do not get to decide that alone. This is my child too. I will not walk away from my baby because you suddenly find me inconvenient.”

Adrian raised an eyebrow. “Then what do you want?”

“Okay, then I have a condition.” Her voice steadied. “If the baby is a boy, I stay. If it is a girl, I leave the estate the day after the birth and you never contact me again. We put it in writing. Right now.”

He studied her for a moment, then almost smiled....it was so cold, he was clearly satisfied.

He assumed she had never checked the gender. He had been too busy with meetings and flights to ask about scans.

A son would keep the bloodline clean. Because she learnt that in the Cross family, a male child was treasured more than a female child. A male child meant wealth and opportunities, strength and more Dons in the future.

They did not spare daughters. She had researched their family over the years and their cruel deeds. Having a daughter was a death sentence itself.

A daughter would free him of the country wife he never wanted. But no one would never know what a mother would do to protect her children. And Marceline wasn't going to let them or her dreams down the drain.

“Fine,” he said. “Write it.”

They used the notepad on her desk. Marceline wrote the terms in clear handwriting.

Adrian signed without hesitation. He folded the paper, slipped it into the top drawer of the dresser, and walked out of the room looking lighter than he had in months.

The door clicked shut.

Marceline stood still for several seconds, one hand still resting on her belly.

What Adrian did not know....what no one in the house knew...was that the last private scan had shown three heartbeats. Two boys and one girl.

The boys secured her place. The girl gave her an exit if she ever needed it. Either way, she was no longer powerless.

Just as she was rubbing her tummy, her phone rang again. The name on the screen made her breath catch.

“Marina." She seethed.

She answered on the third ring.

“Marceline?” Her twin’s voice sounded bright, almost cheerful...They always had the exact same voice.

“I’ve been thinking..I heard you're now pregnant and may in labour any moment.... Once the baby is born, I want to switch back. Take my rightful place as Adrian’s wife. You can go do whatever it is you do. Dancing or whatever. I’ll handle the Cross family from there.”

Marceline closed her eyes. For a moment the old guilt tried to rise. Then she remembered the torn dance permit, the four years of silence, the words downstairs, and the paper now sitting in the drawer. She knew there was no point in yelling or resisting. After all, Adrian would never love her back.

“All right,” she said calmly. “If that is what you want.”

“Really? Just like that?”

“Just like that.” Marceline opened the email while Marina was still speaking. The acceptance letter filled the screen showing a full scholarship. Program start date in six months and she was due in two months. She felt hopeful. That would give her enough time to prepare and leave.

Especially that the contract was ending in six months too. She would be free legally.

A small, tired smile touched her mouth.

“I’ll call you after the birth,” she told her sister. “We can arrange the details then.”

She hung up before Marina could answer. The phone dropped onto the bed.

Marceline rested both hands on her belly and felt one of the babies kick.

This time no one would decide her life for her.

She looked at the closed door and spoke the words out loud, quiet but clear.

“If you want him so bad, sis… you can have him.”