Chapter two.

It came back to her in flashes—sharp, unwanted and cruel.

Elysia stumbled up the stairs, gripping the railing so hard her fingers ached, her chest tightening like something inside her was breaking all over again.

She had been on the phone earlier that evening with her mother.

“Honey, it’s time to let go and come home,” her mother said, her voice tight with worry. “You can’t continue like this.”

She sighed, then told her she was fine. She even lied—lied that Declan was starting to come around, lied that he spent some nights home with her now.

Her mother didn’t believe it but refrained from pushing further.

“Your father wouldn’t allow you to suffer like this if he were alive.” Those were her mother’s last words before they said goodnight.

In the last five years of her marriage to Declan, she had told a lot of lies—lies built to cover what she never had.

Just the day before, she had lied to her best friend. She said she was no longer a virgin, that she and Declan had finally consummated their marriage.

Because the people who cared about her always thought she didn’t put herself and her happiness first.

A dull thud came from the door, startling her.

Elysia frowned slightly before making her way across the room and pulling the door open.

Declan stood there, barely upright.

He looked completely gone, his body swaying slightly before he suddenly lurched forward. Instinctively, she caught him before he could hit the floor, her breath hitching softly under his weight.

“You’re drunk...” she murmured, the sharp scent of alcohol heavy on his breath.

Declan hiccuped softly, leaning more of his weight into her as she struggled to get him to the bed.

“Victoria...” he muttered under his breath.

And there it was again—that familiar ache in her chest.

The ache in her chest returned quietly, familiar enough not to surprise her anymore.

She managed to get him to the bed and dropped him onto it gently. Almost immediately, his hands began fumbling with his clothes like they were suddenly too uncomfortable against his skin.

“Victoria...” he mumbled again, his voice thick and uneven.

Something in Elysia tightened painfully.

She turned slightly, intending to give him a moment to settle on his own, but before she could take another step, the mattress shifted suddenly beneath him.

Then his arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

Elysia startled softly as he pulled himself against her, his grip surprisingly firm for someone so drunk.

“Don’t go...” he mumbled against her stomach. “I’m sorry... Victoria, I’m sorry.”

Her eyes burned quietly at the sound of another woman’s name falling from his lips like this. Even now. Even here.

She swallowed hard and gently tried to loosen his hold. “Declan...”

But he only held on tighter before suddenly pulling her down onto his lap.

Before she could steady herself properly, his hand slid up to her face clumsily, his grip warm against her skin as he tried to pull her closer.

“Declan...” she whispered softly, startled when he leaned in again.

His lips brushed hers clumsily at first, more desperate than careful, carrying the heavy taste of alcohol with them.

Elysia’s breath caught.

For a second, her body almost melted into it. Into him.

Then reality crashed back in.

“Declan, stop...” she said gently, turning her face away before he could kiss her again. Her hands pressed lightly against his chest, not enough to hurt him, only to keep some distance between them.

Because she knew how this would end.

Tomorrow morning, he would wake up sober and distant again. Cold again.

And she was terrified he would look at her like she had taken advantage of him like this.

She tried to get up again, but before she could, his grip tightened suddenly.

The next thing she knew, he had shifted them both, pressing her gently back against the bed as he hovered above her.

Elysia’s eyes widened slightly.

For a moment, he just stared at her.

Really stared at her.

And for the first time that night, something inside her faltered at the look in his eyes. They seemed clearer somehow, focused on her in a way she had never seen before, almost as if he could actually see her.

Her heart stuttered painfully in her chest.

Then he leaned down and kissed her.

Soft at first. Unsteady. His lips warm against hers as though he was trying to remember something he had forgotten for a long time.

Elysia didn’t know what to do with it.

This closeness. This man. The way her body reacted instantly to something she had spent years wanting from him.

When he finally pulled back, his hand came up to touch her face clumsily, his thumb brushing lightly against her cheek as he looked at her with an affection so unfamiliar it almost didn’t feel real.

The moment felt surreal. Fragile.

Then he buried his face against her neck and breathed out softly—

“Victoria…”

Her entire body froze. Her hands curled at her sides as she let him do whatever he wanted with her.

He kissed her neck, her collarbones, her jaw.

Even then—while he moved against her—his mind was somewhere else, with another woman. He thought she was someone else.

Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes.

His groans filled her ears. The touch of his hands made her body respond anyway. This was her first time, but she didn’t mind. Even if he was thinking of another woman, she didn’t care—as long as it was him. She had always wanted it to be him.

She deserved to be a little selfish too. In that moment, that was all that mattered.

Even if he woke the next day and hated her.

And he had—

“What have you done, Elysia?”

He had roared the next morning, his face twisted with fury.

She had tried to explain, but he hadn’t listened.

He said things that cut deeper than she expected. Called her manipulative. Greedy. Asked if the title of Mrs Windsor wasn’t enough for her.

He told her he had given her everything. That she had everything—while Victoria only had him.

She had shrunk against the headboard, watching him dress in sharp, hurried movements before he stormed out.

And then she had cried. Hard. Until exhaustion pulled her under and she slept for hours.

“Miss Elysia.”

Mrs Whitmore’s voice came gently from the doorway, careful and measured.

Elysia didn’t respond.

“The young master has instructed that the family doctor come tomorrow morning to examine you.”

Silence followed.

Elysia slowly curled tighter on the bed, her body folding into itself as the words settled in.

“Pregnant? What do you mean by that? Are you pregnant?”

His voice from the dining room echoed in her head again, sharp and disgusted, as if the idea alone had been unbearable to him.

He had hated it. The thought of it.

Enough to summon a doctor. To check—to make sure.

And then what? Ask her to end it?

A quiet breath left her lips as she stared at nothing in particular.

Fine then.

She wouldn’t put herself through that.

That humiliation. That judgment. That certainty in his eyes that she was nothing more than a mistake waiting to happen.

If he didn’t want this baby—

Then she wouldn’t have it.

First thing tomorrow morning, before the family doctor ever arrived, she would go to the hospital.

She would handle it herself. 

And he would never even know it had existed.

She wouldn’t have to go through it alone.

Elysia reached for her phone.

Her hands were steady, but her chest wasn’t. She scrolled until she found her best friend’s name and pressed call.

The line rang twice…When it connected, 

“Elysia?...” Jade’s sleepy voice answered.

Elysia didn't waste any time.

“Can you come with me to the hospital tomorrow?” She asked.

There was a pause.

“To the hospital? Elysia? Are you okay?”