Chapter 2.

Elena’s POV.

The question hung in the air like a blade suspended by a thread. Who is the father?

No one moved. Even the lights seemed to hum with tension.

Camille didn’t rush me. She didn’t have to. She stepped forward with her heels tapping against the marble floor and placed the pregnancy test on the polished mahogany table beside the roses. The tiny white strip looked obscene beside their perfect petals.

The two pink lines blazed under the chandelier.

I felt every heartbeat land heavy in my throat.

Camille folded her elegant hands together. She wore a face that would have convinced a stranger she was concerned, but I saw the flicker at the edge of her lips. It was the triumph she couldn’t quite hide.

The room blurred like a painting melting in the heat. My uncle, my aunt, Ethan, and his parents all stared. I grabbed the corner of the tablecloth so no one would see how badly my fingers shook.

"Elena?"

Ethan’s voice cracked the silence.

I forced myself to look at him. His expression made my stomach twist. Confusion, hurt, and something like disbelief fought to survive on his face.

He took a step forward. "Tell her she’s lying," he said quietly.

He reached for my hand, ignoring the sharp sound of his mother’s disapproving inhale. He enclosed his fingers around mine. His skin was clammy and trembling. I felt the question pulsing through him. Please, just say it isn’t true.

"Elena," he whispered again with desperation leaking through every syllable. "Tell them it’s a mistake."

I wanted to. God, I wanted to protect him and protect myself. But the truth sat five feet away. It was too bright and too real to deny.

"I..." The word barely scraped out. "I’m pregnant."

The world cracked.

Ethan’s hand dropped from mine like I’d scalded him. He stumbled backward and knocked into the chair behind him. The legs screeched across the floor with a horrible sound that made me flinch.

"You're what?"

I stepped toward him. "It happened before we met. Ethan, please, I didn’t cheat on you. I swear I didn’t!"

He stared at me with his lips moving without words. He finally spoke in a hollow voice. "You sat beside me. You planned our home and talked about a future while you were carrying someone else’s child?"

"I didn’t know." My throat burned. "I found out today. I never meant for any of this."

"That’s enough," Mrs. Cole said.

Her voice was calm, cultured, and lethal.

She stood up and smoothed the silk of her dress as though swatting dust from perfection. The move sent a waft of her floral perfume into the air. It smelled sharp and judgmental.

"Mrs. Cole, please," I began. "I love your son. I would never do that."

"Do not speak to me."

It wasn’t anger in her eyes. It wasn't the kind that shouted. It was a colder thing. It was disgust polished into grace. She turned to her husband with chilling ease. "The wedding is off. Call the lawyers first thing."

My uncle shot to his feet so quickly the chair legs screamed. "Wait, Orson. Let’s not act out of emotion. This doesn’t have to affect the contracts."

Mr. Cole’s face remained unmoved. "We don’t do business with damaged goods, Richard." His tone was final. "The partnership is finished."

He pressed a hand to his wife’s back and guided her toward the door.

"Ethan," I whispered with tears blocking my breath. "Please look at me."

He did. His eyes were red around the edges with pain splintering through them. For a heartbeat, I hoped he’d fight and choose love over humiliation. But his mother reached out and brushed her fingers against his sleeve.

"Come, Ethan," she said softly. "She isn’t who you thought she was."

He hesitated with his chest heaving. He turned that broken gaze on me one last time.

"I trusted you, Elena."

The front door slammed. The echo rolled through the house like thunder that would never end.

I stood there in the echo. I was surrounded by expensive furniture and a silence so thick it pressed on my skin.

Then a hand clamped around my arm.

"You foolish, stupid girl!"

My uncle’s breath was hot and smelled of scotch and rage. He shook me once, hard enough to snap my head back. "Do you have any idea what you’ve done? That merger was going to save this family! You’ve destroyed everything we built."

"I never meant for this to happen."

"Who is he?" His voice cracked across the room. "If it isn’t Ethan, then who is the father?"

His fingers dug deeper. "Who ruined my family’s reputation?"

Adrian's name roared up my throat but stopped behind my teeth.

My uncle wasn’t merely a shipping magnate. He was the man who owned headlines, newspapers, tabloids, and gossip sites. He hunted secrets for profit. And he despised the Vosses with legendary fury.

If he discovered my child was Adrian Voss’s, he wouldn’t see blood. He’d see a headline.

"I can’t tell you," I whispered.

"You can’t?" He barked out a laugh that didn’t sound human. "You destroy everything and think you get to keep secrets?"

"I’ll fix it," I begged. "Just give me some time."

He took a step closer with his voice rough like sandpaper. "Give me the name, Elena."

Before I could answer, my phone vibrated on the table.

The screen lit up in the silence.

We both froze.

ADRIAN VOSS.

My stomach seized.

The name might as well have been a confession printed in gold.

My uncle’s head turned toward me slowly. His eyes narrowed as he read everything in my expression. He saw the fear, the guilt, and the instinctive lunge I made for the phone.

"No! Uncle, please don’t!"

He moved faster. With one hard shove, he sent me stumbling against a chair and snatched the phone.

He glanced at the screen once. Realization struck deep enough to hollow his face before reshaping it with something worse. Calculated pleasure.

"Voss?" he murmured while tasting the word. "So that’s how it is."

"No," I pleaded with a shaking voice. "Don’t answer."

But he was already pressing the screen.

He lifted the phone to his ear and said nothing.

The room filled with the faint and distant sound of Adrian’s voice. It was steady, composed, and terrifyingly calm.

My uncle didn’t speak at first. He listened with his eyes fixed on me, absorbing every heartbeat of my panic. That silence stretched until my chest hurt. Then the smallest smirk touched his mouth.

Whatever Adrian was saying, I couldn’t make out. But my uncle’s expression turned predatory. He gleamed like someone who had finally found the secret weapon he’d been searching for.

He still hadn’t hung up.

And in his eyes, I saw the recognition click. Voss, the NDA, the payout. All the pieces were fitting into place.

Adrian was talking. He was going to realize who had answered. He would know the secret was out.

The moment that happened, he wouldn’t just come after me. He’d destroy everything in his path.

My knees gave out and I slid down the wall, the cold marble biting into my back. My uncle stood above me, phone to his ear, his gaze sharp with discovery. He already knew. And somewhere on the other end of the line, Adrian Voss was still speaking.