Chapter 10: Blackout

The contents of Marcus's flash drive burned through my laptop screen like acid. Email after email, spreadsheet after spreadsheet—all documenting Jessica's meticulous betrayal. Not just of me, but of the entire Walton empire.

"That conniving little snake," Samantha whispered beside me. Her fingers dug into my shoulder as we scrolled through dated communications between Jessica and Miller.

*Target acquisition files downloaded. Meeting at the usual place tonight. Make sure M.W. is distracted.*

That was from three weeks before I caught them together.

My stomach churned. I slammed the laptop shut, unable to look at another word.

"She planned everything." The realization tasted like copper in my mouth. "My marriage was just... collateral damage in her corporate espionage."

"Aria—" Samantha started.

"No." I stood up, needing to move. My legs carried me across her living room in frantic strides. "All this time I thought it was about sex. Or jealousy. Or hell, even love. But it was business. Just business."

My entire world had collapsed because Jessica needed better access to Michael's files. Five years of marriage had meant nothing—not to Jessica, not to Michael who fell for her schemes, not to the Waltons who'd been pushing for an heir with factory-like precision.

"What are you going to do with this information?" Samantha asked, her voice cautious.

Good question. My fingers curled into fists as I stared out the window. Rain had started falling, streaking the glass like tears I refused to shed.

"I don't know yet." But a plan was forming—hazily, distantly. "I need leverage in this divorce. Maybe this is it."

"You'd blackmail them? Aria, these people destroyed your life once already—"

"And they're still trying to finish the job!" My voice cracked. "You've seen what they're writing about me in the press. Gold-digger. Unstable. A frigid wife who drove her husband to cheat." I pressed my fingertips against my temples, where a headache was building. "The Waltons never lose, Sam. That's what my lawyer told me."

Samantha moved beside me at the window. "I'm worried about you. When was the last time you slept a full night? Or ate a proper meal?"

I waved her concern away. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine. You're running on coffee and rage."

She wasn't wrong. The room tilted slightly as I turned away from the window. A wave of dizziness washed over me, forcing me to grab the back of the couch.

"Aria?"

"I just need some air." But the words came out slurred. Black spots danced at the edges of my vision. "I don't feel—"

The floor rushed up to meet me.

---

Beeping. Rhythmic, persistent beeping penetrated the darkness. I tried to open my eyes, but they felt glued shut. A medicinal smell invaded my nostrils. Hospital. Why was I in a hospital?

"She's waking up." Samantha's voice, close by.

Light stabbed my eyes as I finally managed to lift my lids. A blurry ceiling. Fluorescent lights. I blinked until the room came into focus—sterile white walls, machines, and Samantha's worried face hovering over me.

"What happened?" My voice sounded like I'd swallowed sandpaper.

"You collapsed." She pressed a button to call the nurse. "You've been out for almost four hours."

Four hours? I tried to sit up, but my body felt leaden. An IV tube snaked from my arm to a bag of clear fluid hanging beside the bed.

"Ms. Campbell." A doctor entered—mid-fifties, kind eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. "Good to see you awake. I'm Dr. Reeves."

"Why am I here? What's wrong with me?"

He checked the monitors before answering. "Physical exhaustion, dehydration, malnutrition... Your body essentially forced an emergency shutdown."

Samantha shot me an I-told-you-so look.

"When was your last regular meal?" Dr. Reeves asked.

I couldn't remember. Days had blurred together since finding Michael and Jessica together. Food had been an afterthought.

"There's something else." Dr. Reeves glanced at my chart. "We ran routine blood work when you were admitted." He paused, his expression softening. "Ms. Campbell, you're pregnant."

The world stopped spinning. "That's impossible."

"Approximately six weeks, according to your hCG levels."

Six weeks. Right before everything fell apart. The last round of fertility treatments. The one we'd given up on.

"But we tried for years," I whispered. "The specialists said—"

"Sometimes these things happen when we least expect them." Dr. Reeves smiled gently. "I'll have an OB come by to discuss the next steps. In the meantime, you need rest and proper nutrition. For both of you."

He left, and silence descended like a weight. Samantha grabbed my hand.

"Aria... breathe."

I hadn't realized I was holding my breath. When I finally exhaled, it emerged as a half-sob.

"What am I going to do?" My hands drifted to my still-flat stomach. "The Waltons have been desperate for an heir for years. If they find out—"

"They won't." Samantha's voice turned fierce. "Not unless you want them to."

A bitter laugh escaped me. "This baby is what they've wanted all along. The missing piece in their dynastic puzzle." The irony was knife-sharp. "After all this time..."

"This changes everything," Samantha whispered.

Everything. The word echoed in my mind as horrifying possibilities unfolded. If the Waltons knew I was carrying their heir, they'd never let me go. Elizabeth would sink her talons in so deep I'd never break free. My child would become a Walton pawn before even taking its first breath.

And Michael... what would he do? Fight for custody? Try to reconcile. The man who'd betrayed me with my sister would now have the ultimate claim on me through our child.

"They can't know," I said, my decision crystallizing with sudden clarity. "No one can know."

Samantha squeezed my hand. "What about Michael? It's his baby too."

"The man who cheated on me with my sister? Who let his family drag my name through the mud?" My voice hardened. "He gave up his right to know when he broke our vows."

Outside the hospital room, footsteps approached. I lowered my voice.

"Sam, I need you to do something. There's a nurse at the reception desk. Ask her to make sure no visitors come to this room. No one except medical staff."

"You think the Waltons would—"

"Elizabeth has spies everywhere. That woman has donated millions to this hospital. All it takes is one loose-lipped nurse mentioning my name, and she'll be here with an army of lawyers before I can blink."

Samantha nodded grimly and slipped out the door. I pressed my head back against the pillow, my mind racing faster than my exhausted body could handle.

A baby. After years of negative tests, shattered hopes, and invasive procedures, a baby had found its way to me at the worst possible moment.

My hand drifted to my stomach again. "It's just you and me now," I whispered.

Samantha returned minutes later, locking the door behind her. "Done. I told them you're recovering from severe anxiety and need complete privacy."

"Thank you." I pushed myself up to a sitting position, ignoring the dizziness. "I need my clothes."

"Whoa, what are you doing? You need to rest."

"I can't stay here." The monitoring equipment beeped faster as my heart rate increased. "This hospital isn't safe. The Waltons donate millions here."

"Aria, be reasonable. You just collapsed!"

"And I'll have plenty of time to recover—somewhere else." I swung my legs over the side of the bed. "I need to disappear, Sam. Before anyone finds out about this baby."

She stared at me, recognition dawning in her eyes. "You're not just talking about leaving the hospital, are you?"

I met her gaze steadily. "I'm talking about leaving everything. New Jersey. The divorce. All of it."

"That's insane! You can't just—"

"Watch me." I yanked the IV from my arm, wincing as the needle slid out. "The Waltons have taken everything from me—my marriage, my dignity, my reputation. They will not take my child."

Samantha caught my shoulders as I swayed on my feet. "This is crazy. Where would you even go?"

"I don't know yet." My thoughts raced ahead, mapping possibilities. "Somewhere they'd never look. Somewhere I can start over."

"With what money? The divorce isn't final. Your accounts—"

"I have emergency savings they don't know about." I grabbed my clothes from the chair where they'd been folded. "About thirty thousand in an account under my mother's maiden name."

Samantha watched me struggle into my jeans, her expression torn between concern and reluctant understanding.

"You want to do this? Disappear completely?"

I paused, one arm in my sweater sleeve. The magnitude of what I was considering hit me fully—leaving behind everything I knew, everyone I loved except the child growing inside me.

"I don't want to," I admitted, voice breaking. "But I have to. For this baby's sake."

The room spun slightly as I finished dressing, my body protesting the sudden movement. Samantha steadied me.

"If you're doing this, you're not doing it alone," she said firmly. "I'm helping. And first order of business, you're coming home with me until you're strong enough to travel."

I sagged against her, relief and exhaustion colliding. "Thank you."

As Samantha guided me toward the door, I caught my reflection in the room's small mirror—pale face, dark circles under my eyes, but something new in my expression. Something like steel forming.

"One more thing," I said as she checked the hallway. "Dr. Reeves and the nurse who took my blood work—we need their names."

"Why?"

I met her confused gaze. "Because medical records can be altered. Pregnancy tests can disappear."

Understanding dawned in her eyes. "Covering all bases."

"Every single one." My hand rested on my stomach again. "This baby is mine. Not the Waltons'. Not Michael's. Mine. And I'll go to the ends of the earth to keep it that way."

Samantha nodded once, the decision was made. "Let's get you out of here."

We slipped from the room like thieves, my future and my children shrouded in uncertainty but cradled in determination. The Walton dynasty would have to find another heir. This one was mine to protect.