Chapter 4: A Name She Never Chose

Scarlett's hand slipped from Damian's grip.

The housekeeper's words still rang through the entrance hall. The room has been prepared for Lady D'Angelo. She stared at the woman, waiting for her to laugh it off, to admit she had confused Scarlett with someone else. The laugh never came. Instead, every servant in the hall lowered their heads.

Scarlett turned slowly to Damian. "What did she just call me?"

He peeled off his rain soaked gloves and handed them to a waiting butler without meeting her eyes. "Come inside."

"No." Her voice cracked through the marble foyer, sharp enough to startle the staff. "I asked you a question."

The housekeeper waved the servants away, and within seconds the hall emptied. Only Scarlett and Damian remained, the silence between them heavier than the storm outside.

"You've lied to me since the moment we met."

"I haven't."

"You knew my name."

"Yes."

"You knew my mother."

"Yes."

"You knew people were hunting me."

"Yes."

"And now your staff thinks I'm—" she let out a bitter laugh, "—Lady D'Angelo."

"I never told them that."

"Then why would they say it?"

He did not answer right away. Instead he crossed to the fireplace and struck a match, flame spreading across the stone, filling the room with warmth. Only then did he speak. "Because my household follows an old rule. No woman enters this house under my protection unless she is treated with the highest respect."

"So they just assumed?"

"They know better than to ask questions."

"That explains nothing."

"It's enough for tonight."

"You keep saying that. When is it going to be tonight?"

His expression eased, just slightly. "When I know you can hear the truth without it putting you in danger."

Something in her snapped. "Stop deciding what I can handle." Her voice broke on the last word, and everything she had buried since leaving the pack came rushing back at once, Logan's rejection, the wolves in the trees, the strange convoy, her mother's name, none of it making sense. She pressed her fingers to her forehead. "I don't even know who I am anymore."

The words slipped out before she could stop them, and something shifted in Damian's face, the cold mask cracking just enough to let real concern through.

"You've had the worst night of your life."

"You think?"

"I know." He stepped closer, carefully. "I won't ask you to trust me tonight. But I will ask you to stay."

She looked around the hall, chandeliers so high she could barely see them, paintings lining every wall, armed guards visible through every window. This was not a home. It was a fortress.

"A prison can look beautiful," she said quietly.

His jaw tightened. "If I wanted you imprisoned, you would never have seen the front door."

She held his gaze, and for reasons she could not explain, she believed him. That frightened her more than anything else that night.

Footsteps hurried down the corridor. The housekeeper reappeared, her calm expression gone.

"Sir."

"What is it, Eleanor?"

"The doctor's arrived."

"What doctor?" Scarlett asked.

Eleanor's eyes softened. "You nearly collapsed twice on the drive here, Miss De Luca."

"I was just tired."

"You lost consciousness. Several seconds."

Scarlett opened her mouth to argue, then remembered the darkness that had swallowed her in the SUV. She had assumed it was exhaustion.

"Dr. Hayes would like to examine you," Eleanor said gently.

"I'm fine." The moment the words left her mouth, dizziness swept through her. The floor tilted. She reached for the nearest table and missed, and the room spun into black, the last thing she felt was Damian catching her before she hit the ground.

When she opened her eyes, the ceiling was wrong. Not the rough wood beams of her cottage back in Silver Moon Pack, but white plaster laced with gold, lit softly by a chandelier. The air smelled of lavender instead of pine. Then it all came back. The ceremony. Logan. The rejection. The forest. Damian.

She pushed up too fast and the dizziness dropped her back onto the pillows.

"Easy," said a calm voice. Dr. Hayes, gray haired and kind eyed, was closing his bag. "You've been through enough for one night."

"Where's Damian?"

"Taking an urgent call." He studied her. "You trust him?"

She gave a humorless laugh. "I barely know him."

"You asked for him first."

She said nothing. Had she?

He pulled a chair beside the bed. "A few questions, if you don't mind."

"Fine."

"When did you last eat?"

"This morning."

"Any nausea, fatigue, dizziness before tonight?"

"I've been tired for weeks. I thought it was stress."

"Anything else?"

She hesitated. "My appetite's been strange."

He made a note. Down the hall, muffled voices rose, one of them Damian's, tense in a way she had not heard yet. Dr. Hayes set his notebook down.

"Miss De Luca, I've finished the exam."

Her stomach dropped. "Is something wrong?"

"No." A small smile. "Quite the opposite. You're perfectly healthy."

She exhaled. "But?"

"Congratulations. You're going to have a baby."

The room went silent. The words did not land, could not land. "I'm, no."

"It's very early yet."

"No. You're wrong."

"I rarely am."

"I can't be pregnant." Her voice cracked.

He did not argue, just set a small report on the nightstand. "Read it when you're ready."

A knock, and Damian entered. One look at the doctor's face told him everything.

"What did you tell her?"

"The truth."

Damian turned to Scarlett, frozen on the bed, tears rising. He dismissed the doctor with a nod, and when the door shut, the silence returned.

"You knew?" she finally asked.

"No."

"Don't lie."

"I didn't know." She searched his face and found nothing but concern. "It's Logan's," she whispered.

He walked to the window, staring out at the rain soaked gardens. "I assumed as much."

She wrapped her arms around herself. "He rejected me, and now I'm carrying his child." The words broke what strength she had left.

Damian closed his eyes, then turned back. "You won't face this alone."

"You barely know me."

"No. But I made a promise long before tonight."

Before she could ask what he meant, an alarm tore through the manor. Red lights flashed down the corridor, and the door burst open, a security chief, breathless.

"Sir!"

"What happened?"

"Surveillance just identified the men outside the estate."

Damian's face hardened. "How many?"

"Over a hundred." The guard swallowed. "They're carrying the Silver Moon Pack banner."

The blood drained from Scarlett's face.

Logan's pack had found her.