Chapter 8

Aria POV

The drive to Vanessa’s place felt endless.

The city lights blurred past my window as exhaustion settled deep into my bones. My head rested against the cool glass.

“I still can’t wrap my head around it,” Vanessa snapped from the backseat beside me, breaking the silence. “Did you see the way she was practically draped over him? Like some cheap—”

“Nessa, it’s okay,” I said quietly.

She looked at me, her anger immediately softening to concern. “Alright. But are you okay? You look so pale.”

“I’m just tired,” I said gently, though even speaking felt like effort.

Matthew glanced back at us from the driver’s seat, his eyes kind and worried. “Aria, you’re going to be fine.”

I managed a small nod.

“Find a good place for us to eat,” Vanessa said, her tone gentler now. “She’s eating for two now.”

“I know the perfect spot,” Matthew said, his eyes back on the road. “There’s a new restaurant downtown. Cozy, quiet. Good food.”

We got to the restaurant, ordered food, and ate.

I was so tired, I forced myself to eat the food, even though it tasted like nothing.

Vanessa and Matthew looked at me with pity.

We finally got to Vanessa’s apartment. She grabbed my arm before I could head to the guest room.

“Nope. Absolutely not,” she said firmly. “You’re not going to sit here and spiral. We’re going out.”

“Vanessa, I’m exhausted—”

“Exactly. Which is why we’re going to the art museum. It closes at nine. We have an hour.”

“An art museum?” I blinked at her.

“Yes. You love art. You used to drag me to galleries all the time in college, remember?” She didn’t say the rest, but we both knew. Before Julian. Before I became someone who waited instead of lived.

Matthew stood. “I’ll drive.”

The museum was quiet, nearly empty. Our footsteps echoed on the marble floors as we wandered through the galleries.

“Look at this one,” Vanessa said, stopping in front of a massive abstract piece—all blues and golds, chaotic and beautiful.

I stared at it. For the first time in hours, I felt something other than fear.

“It’s called Rebirth,” Matthew read from the placard.

I let out a shaky breath. “It’s beautiful.”

“You’re going to be okay,” Vanessa said quietly, slipping her hand into mine. “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now. But you will.”

I wanted to believe her.

We spent the next forty minutes walking slowly through the exhibits. Vanessa made ridiculous comments about some of the stranger pieces, making me laugh despite everything. Matthew pointed out details I’d missed—brushstrokes, hidden meanings, the way light played across the canvas.

For just a little while, I forgot. About Julian. About Selene. About everything waiting for me at home.

For just a little while, I remembered who I used to be.

Back at Vanessa’s apartment, I sat on the edge of the guest bed, staring at nothing.

My phone buzzed.

A message from Jasmine, Julian’s secretary: “Quick one, Aria. The board is asking if you’re good. I think they kinda heard a rumor or something.”

My hand froze. Reality crashed over me.

I needed to tell Julian about my pregnancy, even though I knew he doesn’t and can never love me back.

“I should go home,” I said, trying to stay calm. “It’s time to tell him.”

Vanessa looked at me with concern. “You sure about this?”

I nodded.

“Call me if anything happens, okay?” She hugged me tight. “And if your whore stepsister dares try anything, let me know. I’ll beat the hell out of her,” she added.

“Nessa!” I laughed. “Nothing is going to happen.”

The house was silent and dark when I got home.

Too silent. So quiet I could hear my own footsteps echoing through the empty halls.

I went upstairs to our bedroom. Julian wasn’t there, but I knew he was home—his car was parked outside in the driveway.

Which meant he was in his study.

I stood outside the door for a long moment, gathering courage I wasn’t sure I had.

Then I pushed it open.

Julian sat behind his desk, perfectly still, his face unreadable. The room felt hot, tension radiating from him like heat from a furnace. He sat there as if he’d been waiting for me. As if he’d known I would come back.

He didn’t even look up.

“Julian,” I said quietly.

Finally, he raised his eyes to meet mine. His gaze was cold, assessing, cutting. If a stare could make someone collapse, I would have been on the floor already.

“Very interesting,” he said softly. “Very, very interesting.”

He picked up a folder from his desk and held it out to me.

My heart started racing. My hands trembled as I took it.

I opened it slowly.

Medical documents. Test results. An ultrasound image.

“You’re pregnant, Aria.”

The words hit me like a bomb detonating in my chest.

“My wife is pregnant.” His voice was dangerously calm. “Nine weeks pregnant, to be exact.” He leaned back in his chair, eyes never leaving mine. “Isn’t that fascinating?”

My mouth went dry.

“How is that possible?” He stood slowly, and I instinctively took two steps back. “Because I vividly remember that I was in London nine weeks ago. So tell me, Aria—how exactly did you manage to get pregnant?”

“It… it can’t be—” My voice shook. “I’m only six weeks—”

“YOU DARE TO LIE TO ME!”

He slammed his hands on the desk, and I flinched. The sound echoed through the study like a gunshot. Papers scattered. A pen rolled off the edge and clattered to the floor.

The air felt thick, suffocating. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might burst out of my chest.

“Julian, please—I can explain—” My whole body was shaking now.

“Explain what?” He moved around the desk toward me, and I backed up until I hit the wall. “That you’ve been sleeping around? Fucking him? Matthew?”

“No—no—” Tears streamed down my face. “There’s a mix-up somewhere. Julian, please—it’s your baby. Our baby.”

“Our baby?” He laughed, a cold, bitter sound. “It’s not mine. I didn’t touch you nine weeks ago. I’m not stupid, Aria.”

“It’s yours—”

“It’s NOT mine!” His voice rose. “No wonder he offered you that job. So you two would have time to carry on your little affair.”

“Julian, please—”

“You’re aborting that bastard child.”

The words stopped my heart.

“What?” I whispered. “Abort my child? Our child?”

“YES!” He stepped closer, towering over me. “Or I swear to God, I will destroy you. And I will destroy him.”

My legs gave out. I slid down the wall, sobbing, one hand instinctively covering my stomach.

“Please,” I begged. “Please, Julian. It’s yours. I swear it’s yours.”