LOGINQUAN “I’ll go get the doctor.” The room feels smaller. I exhale slowly and reach for my phone. Dimitri answers on the second ring. “Quan , why are you calling me from a hospital?” “They took her. " --- By the time I arrive, I already know something is wrong. A man in scrubs is waiting near the entrance. “You must be family,” he says. “I am ,” I agree, walking past him. Third floor. Restricted wing. The doors open onto aftermath. A cracked monitor screen. A dented supply cart pushed hard into the wall. Two guards standing outside the door. “He regained consciousness abruptly,” she begins. “He was disoriented. He didn’t recognize the facility. He kept asking where his wife was.” “Reasonable,” I say mildly. “She wasn’t listed as a patient here,” the doctor continues. “That escalated things.” I glance around. “I can see that.” “He attempted to leave the ward,” another doctor adds. “Forced entry into an administrative office. We had to sedate him for h
LIA Six months changes everything. My stomach curves gently, undeniable, and I can’t hide it even if I try. Dresses hang looser, chairs are pulled out for me. He walks a half-step closer than he used to. His hand hovers at my back when we move through the hallways, just enough to remind me he’s here. I ease myself onto the couch in the sitting room that’s slowly becomes mine, exhaling as I settle. “I used to be able to do that without planning,” I mutter. His mouth twitches. “You still can. You just announce it now.” I shoot him a look. “You enjoy this far too much.” “I enjoy knowing you’re comfortable,” he corrects. I rest a hand on the curve of my belly, more habit than ceremony now. “The doctor says everything’s progressing well.” “I know,” he says. “She told me.” “You asked again?” “I always ask,” he replies evenly. I study him for a moment, then smile. “You’re going to be unbearable when the baby’s born.” “I already am,” he says. A pause, and then qu
LIA By the time the private gynaecologist arrives, Lia is well past the fragile uncertainty of early weeks. The nausea comes and goes, her energy rises in careful waves, and the reality of the pregnancy has settled in. The city outside has accepted its story. Inside the mansion, life moves carefully around hers. Quan answers the door himself when the doctor arrives. He checks her identification, confirms her equipment, then escorts her through the quiet corridors with the calm authority everyone in the house has learned not to question. Lia is waiting in one of the sunlit sitting rooms when they enter. She stands slowly, offering a polite smile. “Doctor.” “Mrs. Don,” the woman greets warmly, setting her case on the table. “You’re looking well.” “I feel better than I did a few weeks ago,” Lia admits. “That’s usually how this stage behaves,” the doctor says kindly. “Your body has adjusted.” Quan takes his usual position beside Lia—close enough to steady, far enough not
LIA'S STEPMOTHER “You got my note,” he says. “I read it,” I reply. His mouth twitches. We sit across from each other at the table. No small talk. “You shouldn’t have passed it on,” he says. “That makes you visible.” “You shouldn’t have sent it,” I say. “You know what happens if the dons hear this,” he says. “They won’t ask who told them.” “And you think they’ll spare you?” I ask calmly. “You’re the one who knows first.” He leans back, eyes narrowing. “You assume they don’t already know.” “If they did,” I say, “you wouldn’t be sitting here.” “So what now?” he asks. “Now we wait.” He scoffs. “For what?” “For someone to make a mistake,” I say. “For the right moment.” He studies me. “And if I decide not to wait?” I meet his gaze. “Then I decide to talk.” --- “Congratulations,” a woman says to Salve at a charity luncheon, voice warm, eyes bright. “An heir is a blessing.” Salve inclines his head, calm as ever. “Thank you.” The city has decided.
QUAN The dining room was warm, lanterns casting golden light over polished wood and crystal glasses. Lia sat across from me. “So,” Dimitri began, voice carrying across the table, “Lia, tell me—home check-ups or hospital visits? Which do you prefer?” Salve’s fingers drummed lightly on the table. “It’s her choice,” he said calmly, eyes on Lia. “Whatever she feels safest with.” Lia met both their gazes evenly. “Home visits,” she said. “It feels safer, more private, and I’d like doctors I trust to come here.” Dimitri leaned back, grin widening. “Safer? You’re not afraid of the hospital chaos, are you?” “I’m not,” Lia replied, amused. “I just like knowing who’s around me. Control and trust—nothing more.” “Trust, huh?” he said, leaning forward suddenly. “Lucky for you, you’ve got both of us watching. Though… keeping me out of the doctor’s office might be your first real challenge.” Lia laughed softly. “You’d probably cause more trouble than you’d prevent.” The dinner had e
QUAN The sun hadn’t fully risen, but the sky was already brushing the horizon with pale gold. I carried the tray carefully, trying not to spill the coffee or anything else. The smell of toasted bread mingled with the faint chill of morning air. Lia was already there, sitting on the bench near the roses, hands resting lightly on her stomach. She looked up when she heard me, her eyes narrowing in amusement. “You brought breakfast?” she asked. “I did,” I said, placing the tray on the small table in front of her. The cups wobbled slightly. “Careful—coffee is hot.” She chuckled, reaching for a piece of toast. “You know, Sia would never let me burn toast like this.” I paused, awkward. “Then I guess I have to do it properly… for you and the baby.” My lips twitched, trying for humor, but my hands stayed stiff at my sides. Lia’s laugh was quiet. “I think you’re doing fine.” I set a cup of coffee in front of her, watching her fingers curl around it. “I’m not Sia,” I admitted. “I







