The Heir She Was Not Supposed To Carry

Two pink lines.

I stared at them for a long time. I was sitting in a small gas station bathroom with the test in one hand and Margaret's shopping list in the other.

*Eggs. Lemons. Champagne. White roses for Sabrina.*

I blinked and looked again. The lines were still there.

Pregnant.

Someone banged on the door. "Hey, lady! You done in there?"

"One minute!"

I wrapped the test in tissue and pushed it deep into my coat pocket. My hands were shaking so badly that the shopping list fell on the wet floor. I picked it up and wiped it on my jeans.

Tomorrow at noon, my contract with Gabriel Stone would end.

And today I found out I was carrying his child.

One year ago, I was not a wife. I was a caregiver.

I took care of Eleanor Stone, Gabriel's grandmother. She was eighty-one years old and owned most of Stone Industries. She had sharp eyes, a sharp tongue, and a big heart that she hid from everyone except me. I made her tea, read her the newspaper and held her hand when her legs hurt at night.

One day she called me into her room.

"Ivy," she said, "I want you to marry my grandson."

I laughed. I thought it was a joke.

It wasn't.

Gabriel needed to be married to get control of the company. That was Eleanor's rule, and she wrote it into her papers. And for some reason I still don't understand, she chose me.

Gabriel didn't argue with her. He just looked at me with his cold gray eyes and said, "One year. Then we go our separate ways."

So we signed. One year, a clean divorce, and some money for me at the end.

Two months ago, Eleanor had a stroke. She was in a care home now. She couldn't walk and she couldn't talk. She was the only person in that family who had ever been kind to me, and now she couldn't even say my name.

The night she got sick, Gabriel came home very late. He didn't go to his room. He came to mine. He sat on the edge of my bed with his face in his hands and said, "I don't want to be alone tonight."

That was the only night.

The next morning, he acted like it never happened.

Now I counted the weeks on my fingers in the car, and my stomach turned.

I parked the old car at the back of the Stone house. I always used the back door. Margaret said the front door was for "family."

The kitchen was busy. Two cooks were cutting vegetables, and a man was carrying a big cake with white flowers on it.

Tessa, Gabriel's younger sister, was sitting on the counter eating grapes. She looked at the bags in my hands.

"Did you get the right champagne this time?" she asked. "Sabrina only drinks the pink one."

"I got it."

"Good." She smiled. "It's her party tonight. You know that, right? Tonight we celebrate Sabrina moving in."

I put the bags down. "Tonight? The contract ends tomorrow."

Tessa shrugged. "Close enough."

I walked upstairs to my room. I just wanted to lie down for five minutes, close my eyes and think.

But my door was open.

Inside, Margaret was holding a tape measure. Sabrina stood next to her in a soft white dress, pointing at the walls.

"This wall can be all shoes," Sabrina said. "And my dresses can go here."

My bed was bare. My clothes, my books and my small box of photos were stuffed into two black trash bags by the door.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

Margaret didn't even look at me. "This will be Sabrina's dressing room. You'll sleep in the room behind the laundry tonight."

"It's my room until tomorrow."

Now she turned. Her eyes moved slowly from my old coat down to my old shoes.

"Ivy," she said, "nothing in this house was ever yours."

Sabrina smiled at me, sweet as honey. "Don't be sad. I'll take good care of it."

I picked up my two bags without saying a word. I wouldn't let them see me cry. Not today.

That evening, I decided to tell him.

I didn't want anything from Gabriel. Not his money and not his love. But this was his child, and he had a right to know.

I knocked on his office door.

"Come in."

He was standing by the window in a dark suit, on the phone. He looked at me, said "I'll call you back," and hung up.

"Ivy." He picked up a white envelope from his desk and held it out. "Your final payment. Mr. Grant will bring the papers at noon tomorrow. A car will take you anywhere you want after you sign."

I didn't take the envelope.

"Gabriel, I need to tell you something."

He waited. For one second his eyes looked different, almost soft, like on that one night.

I opened my mouth.

His phone rang. *Sabrina* lit up on the screen.

He picked it up. "Yes. I'm coming down now."

He walked past me to the door. At the door he stopped, but he didn't turn around.

"Whatever it is," he said, "tell Mr. Grant tomorrow."

Then he was gone.

I stood alone in his office. The envelope sat on the desk. I didn't touch it.

Fine, I thought. Then I will never tell you.

I called Rosie from the tiny room behind the laundry. Rosie was my best friend from nursing school. She was loud, funny and the only person I trusted.

"Pregnant?" she shouted. "Ivy! Okay. Okay. Breathe. You come to my place tomorrow after you sign. You hear me? You're not alone."

"Thank you," I whispered.

"And Ivy? Don't tell those people anything."

"I won't."

At midnight I couldn't sleep. The music from the party was finally over. I went down to the kitchen to get some water.

The kitchen was dark. But there was light under the pantry door, and someone was talking.

It was Margaret.

"Yes, Dr. Hale. Eight o'clock tomorrow morning."

I stopped walking.

"The contract says she must take a pregnancy test before she signs. Eleanor put that rule in herself, the foolish old woman. If Ivy is pregnant, the baby gets Eleanor's shares. All of them."

My hand flew to my stomach.

"No," Margaret said. "Gabriel doesn't know about that part. And he won't."

There was a short silence.

"Then make sure the test says no," she said in a low voice. "And if she really is pregnant, give her something to make sure she isn't by the time she leaves. You're a doctor. You know what to do."

My whole body went cold.

I stepped back slowly. One step. Two steps. My bare feet were quiet on the tiles. I turned and ran up the back stairs to my little room and shut the door.

I sat on the floor with my back against it, holding my stomach with both hands. My heart was pounding in my ears.

Eight o'clock. I had eight hours.

Then my phone lit up in the dark.

A message from a number I didn't know.

*Don't drink anything they give you in the morning. And don't sign. They lied to you about Eleanor's stroke. — E.*