Chapter 5: A Contract Instead of a Promise

Elizabeth arrived home past nine that night, exhaustion clinging to her bones.

The encounter with Vivian Anderson replayed in her mind on a loop every calculated word, every veiled threat. She had survived Lewis once, but his family was a different kind of war. Quiet. Strategic. Relentless.

Her phone buzzed as she dropped her bag on the counter.

Lewis Anderson.

She stared at the screen, debating whether ignoring him was still an option. But avoiding him now wouldn’t erase the reality growing inside her.

She answered. “Yes?”

“I sent something to your email,” Lewis said.

Her stomach tightened. “Already?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t waste time,” she said dryly.

“I can’t afford to.”

Elizabeth sighed and opened her laptop, pulling up her inbox. The subject line alone made her chest ache.

Parental Agreement – Draft 1

“You actually wrote it,” she murmured.

“Read it,” Lewis said. “Before you judge.”

Elizabeth hesitated, then opened the document.

It was thorough. Clinical. Painfully rational.

Medical care guaranteed. Financial independence secured. Legal protections outlining her autonomy. Explicit boundaries limiting his family’s involvement. A clause forbidding unilateral decisions without mutual consent.

Her fingers trembled as she scrolled.

This wasn’t ownership.

It was preparation.

“Why?” she asked quietly.

“Because promises didn’t work for us,” Lewis replied. “This way, you’re protected even from me.”

Her throat tightened unexpectedly.

She stopped reading. “You think paperwork will fix what you broke.”

“I think it’s the only language I know how to speak without lying.”

The honesty stunned her.

Elizabeth closed the laptop slowly. “I won’t sign anything yet.”

“I didn’t expect you to,” he said. “But I need you to understand something.”

She waited.

“I’m not walking away again,” Lewis said. “Whether you want me close or not.”

Her chest tightened painfully. “You don’t get to decide that alone.”

“I know.”

She hesitated. “Then why does it still feel like you are?”

Silence crackled through the line.

“I’m learning,” he said finally. “Too late, maybe but I’m learning.”

Elizabeth ended the call without replying.

She needed time.

Lewis poured himself a drink he didn’t touch.

The city sprawled beneath his windows, indifferent to the turmoil in his chest. He hadn’t told his mother about the agreement. He hadn’t told the board. He hadn’t told anyone except Caleb.

“You’re gambling,” Caleb had said.

Lewis knew.

Elizabeth wasn’t a business problem. She was a fault line.

And she was carrying something that mattered more than his empire.

The next morning, Elizabeth woke to nausea that stole her breath.

She barely made it to the bathroom before retching, gripping the sink as her body betrayed her.

“So this is how you announce yourself,” she muttered weakly.

She rinsed her mouth, staring at her reflection. Pale. Vulnerable.

She hated that Lewis had been right about one thing.

She couldn’t do everything alone.

Her phone chimed.

A delivery notification.

She frowned and opened the door moments later to find a small insulated bag sitting neatly outside.

Inside: ginger tea, crackers, prenatal vitamins, and a simple note.

For the mornings that are harder than you let on.

Her chest tightened.

She shut the door, leaning against it as conflicting emotions surged gratitude tangled with resentment.

He was crossing boundaries again.

Or maybe… listening.

She didn’t know which scared her more.

Elizabeth met Lewis two days later in a neutral space a quiet café away from business districts and social circles.

She arrived first, choosing a table near the window.

When Lewis walked in, the room seemed to tilt toward him effortlessly. He spotted her instantly, his gaze softening despite himself.

“You look tired,” he said as he sat across from her.

“So do you.”

He didn’t deny it.

She slid her laptop across the table. “I read the contract.”

His spine straightened. “And?”

“It’s… thorough,” she admitted. “More than I expected.”

Lewis exhaled. “That’s not a no.”

“It’s not a yes either,” she said. “I have conditions.”

He nodded. “Name them.”

“No showing up unannounced,” Elizabeth said. “No family involvement without my permission. No control disguised as care.”

“Agreed,” Lewis said without hesitation.

She blinked. “Just like that?”

“Yes.”

Her voice softened despite herself. “And if I say no to moving in?”

Lewis held her gaze. “Then I’ll respect it.”

She studied him carefully. “For how long?”

“As long as it takes.”

Silence settled between them.

“And the baby?” she asked quietly.

Lewis’s expression shifted something unguarded passing through his eyes. “I want to be there.”

“That doesn’t mean living in my shadow.”

“I know,” he said. “But I won’t be absent.”

Elizabeth looked down at her hands. “You hurt me,” she said softly. “Even now.”

Lewis swallowed. “I know.”

“And I don’t forgive easily.”

“I’m not asking you to,” he replied. “I’m asking you to let me try.”

She met his gaze again, heart aching.

“Trying isn’t enough this time,” she said. “You have to change.”

Lewis nodded once. “Then watch me.”

Later that evening, Elizabeth sat alone on her couch, the contract open on her laptop once more.

She scrolled to the final page.

There was a clause she hadn’t noticed before.

Elizabeth Anderson retains full decision-making authority regarding residence, medical care, and personal boundaries throughout pregnancy and beyond.

Her eyes burned.

Lewis hadn’t just offered support.

He had relinquished power.

Her hand drifted to her stomach, emotions overwhelming.

“Maybe,” she whispered, “you’re not the same man anymore.”

Across the city, Lewis stood at his window again, phone in hand.

No messages.

No reassurance.

Only resolve.

He would wait.

And this time, he would earn the right to stay.