Chapter 3 : You Belong To Me

Dominic did not sleep.

He stood in his study long after Emma locked herself in the guest bedroom upstairs.

The house was silent, but the silence was wrong.

Too heavy.

Too distant.

For four years, this house had responded to her. Her perfume in the hallways. Her voice instructing staff. Her quiet laugh drifting from the balcony at night.

Now it felt like foreign territory.

And he hated it.

His jaw tightened as he replayed the hotel scene again.

The tears.

The way she stepped back from his touch.

The refusal in her voice when she said no.

Emma had never told him no.

Not like that.

Not without softening afterward.

Tonight she hadn’t softened.

She had withdrawn.

And that was unacceptable.

***

Upstairs, Emma sat on the edge of the bed in the dimly lit guest room.

Not their bedroom.

She couldn’t step inside it.

Not after picturing Laura’s hands on him.

Her stomach churned again.

The nausea hadn’t stopped.

She pressed her palm against her abdomen slowly.

Late.

She counted backward in her head.

Her breath trembled.

No.

It couldn’t be.

But deep down she knew.

She hadn’t felt it before … faint exhaustion, dizziness, that strange heaviness low in her body.

And the timing…

Tears slid down her face silently.

Of all the moments.

Of all the nights.

Of all the betrayals.

This one came with consequences.

A child.

His child.

The door opened without knocking.

She stiffened.

Dominic stepped inside.

He had changed out of his suit. Dark shirt. Sleeves rolled up. Hair still slightly disheveled.

He looked unfairly calm.

Controlled.

Powerful.

Like the man who had built an empire from nothing.

Not the man who had just destroyed his wife.

“You locked the door again ,” he said quietly.

“You broke it …. Again .”

His eyes flicked toward the handle. Then back to her.

“If I need to enter a room in my house, I will.”

There it was.

Control.

Ownership.

Emma wiped her tears quickly and stood.

“I don’t want to fight.”

“Good,” he said. “Neither do I.”

She stared at him in disbelief.

“You were in bed with my best friend.”

His jaw tightened.

“It’s not what you think.”

“Then tell me what it is.”

Silence.

His gaze hardened.

“It’s complicated.”

The same word.

She felt something inside her snap.

“Stop saying that.”

Her voice rose for the first time.

“Stop talking to me like I’m stupid.”

Dominic stepped closer.

Slow.

Measured.

Every step calculated.

“You’re emotional,” he said low. “And when you’re emotional, you misinterpret.”

Misinterpret.

Her chest burned.

“I saw you,” she whispered.

He stopped only inches away now.

Close enough that she could smell his cologne.

Close enough that her body remembered him.

Hated that it remembered him.

His hand lifted instinctively, brushing a tear from her cheek.

The touch was gentle.

Intimate.

Familiar.

Her body reacted before her mind did.

She froze.

His eyes darkened at the response.

“Look at me,” he murmured.

She didn’t want to.

But she did.

And what she saw unsettled her.

Not guilt.

Not remorse.

Possession.

“You’re my wife,” he said quietly. Firmly. “Nothing changes that.”

Her breath hitched.

“You don’t get to decide that.”

“Yes,” he said. “I do.”

The words weren’t loud.

They didn’t need to be.

Dominic had never been loud.

He dominated quietly.

Through presence.

Through power.

Through inevitability.

“I want a divorce,” she said suddenly.

The air changed.

His expression didn’t explode.

It froze.

Completely still.

“No,” he replied.

No hesitation.

No shock.

Just refusal.

“You don’t get to refuse,” she said, heart pounding.

He stepped even closer.

Now her back nearly touched the wall.

“You think I built everything I have because I let people walk away from me?”

She swallowed.

“This isn’t business.”

His fingers wrapped gently around her wrist.

Not hurting.

Just firm enough to remind her how strong he was.

“It is to me.”

Her pulse raced.

“Let me go.”

His grip tightened slightly.

Not painful.

But deliberate.

“You don’t get to leave me because you’re upset.”

“I’m leaving you because you have been cheating on me ... Don’t know for how long..,” she breathed. “I’m done with you.”

That word hit him.

She saw it.

A flicker of something dangerous behind his eyes.

He released her abruptly and stepped back.

“You’re not thinking clearly.”

“I’m thinking perfectly clearly.”

Her stomach twisted sharply again.

Harder this time.

She inhaled sharply.

Dominic noticed.

Immediately.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Emma.”

His voice shifted.

Not softer.

Sharper.

More alert.

She turned away from him instinctively.

He grabbed her shoulders and turned her back.

“What is wrong with you?”

“Don’t you touch me!”

“Don’t…”

She shoved him harder than she intended.

And suddenly…

The room spun.

Her vision blurred.

Darkness edged her sight.

Dominic caught her before she hit the floor.

His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her against him.

Her body trembled.

“Emma.”

His voice changed completely now.

Not controlling.

Not cold.

Concerned.

Real.

She clutched his shirt instinctively as nausea surged again.

“I feel sick,” she whispered.

His eyes narrowed.

“How long?”

She froze.

He saw it.

The hesitation.

The calculation.

His gaze dropped slowly to her abdomen.

Then back to her face.

And something shifted.

“Are you pregnant?”

The question landed like a gunshot.

Silence filled the room.

Her heart pounded violently.

She didn’t answer.

That was answer enough.

Dominic went very still.

His hand moved …slowly ….almost unconsciously …….to rest against her stomach.

The gesture was possessive.

Claiming.

Terrifying.

“You’re carrying my child.”

Not a question.

A statement.

Her throat tightened.

“Yes, Maybe . I don’t know .”

The word barely escaped.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Dominic’s expression was unreadable.

But something fierce ignited in his eyes.

Mine.

That’s what it said.

Mine.

His jaw hardened.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

The words sent ice through her veins.

“This doesn’t change anything,” she whispered. “If anything, it changes everything.”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “It does.”

He stepped back slightly, running a hand through his hair.

His mind was already moving.

Strategizing.

Calculating.

A child meant legacy.

Heir.

Continuity.

Power.

And Emma was the mother.

“You think divorce is happening now?” he said low. “It’s not.”

“You can’t force me to stay.”

His gaze returned to her.

Cold.

Focused.

“You’d be surprised what I can do.”

Fear crept up her spine.

Not because he was yelling.

But because he wasn’t.

Dominic didn’t threaten without capability.

“I won’t let you raise my child away from me,” he continued. “I won’t let you take what belongs to me.”

“I’m not your property!”

“You’re my wife.”

The words were final.

Dominant.

Terrifyingly calm.

Tears filled her eyes again.

“I hate you.”

The room went silent.

He stepped closer once more.

But this time his hand didn’t grab her.

It cupped her jaw gently.

Forcing her to look at him.

“You don’t,” he said quietly.

The certainty in his voice shook her.

“Even now, your body reacts to me.”

Her breath caught.

Damn him.

Damn him for noticing.

“You think this ends because you saw something?” he murmured. “You think I’ll let another man touch you?”

Her pulse spiked.

“I don’t belong to you.”

His thumb brushed slowly across her lower lip.

Possessive.

Measured.

“You always have.”

The tension between them felt electric.

Twisted.

Dangerous.

She pulled away sharply.

“This is over.”

He stared at her for a long moment.

Then his expression changed.

Colder.

Harder.

Strategic.

“If you want war,” he said quietly, “be prepared to lose.”

And with that…

He walked out of the room.

Leaving her shaking.

Breathing hard.

Terrified.

Pregnant.

And suddenly aware of something far worse than betrayal.

Dominic Sterling was not going to let her go peacefully.

And if she wanted freedom…

She would have to destroy him