ANMELDENChloe’s POV“It does,” I cut in. “You don’t understand. I can’t do this.”“You’re not alone,” he said.“Yes, I am,” I shot back. “Look at everything happening right now. The investigation. The rumors. Your wife. Your son. And now this?”I pressed my palms to my temples, squeezing my eyes shut. My thoughts were racing, colliding into each other.A pregnancy.A child.At this time.In this chaos.“I’m fighting for my name,” I said, my voice breaking despite my effort to stay composed. “I’m trying not to go to prison for something I didn’t do. I’m trying to keep my sister alive. And now you’re telling me I’m pregnant?”He moved closer again. “We’ll figure it out.”“No,” I said sharply. “You’ll figure it out. I’ll pay the price?”He shook his head. “That’s not true.”I laughed again, bitter this time. “Your life stays intact no matter what happens. Mine doesn’t.”He reached for my hands. I pulled them away.“I can’t afford this,” I continued. “Physically. Emotionally. Legally. I can’t aff
Chloe’s POV I shrugged lightly and immediately regretted it when my head throbbed harder. “I didn’t want… this.”“This what?” he asked, stepping closer.I gestured vaguely at him. “Concern. Questions. You hovering.”He ignored that completely. His hand came up, resting briefly on my forehead before I could stop him. His touch was cool. My skin burned under it.“You’re hot,” he muttered.I pulled away weakly. “Don’t.”“You have a fever,” he said, not asking. “And you’re pale.”“I know,” I snapped, then softened when another wave of dizziness hit. “I know something’s wrong.”He looked around the room, taking in the untouched water bottle on the bedside table, the discarded dress, the shoes by the door, the faint smell of sickness in the air.“You’ve been throwing up,” he said.I didn’t answer.He exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. “Sit.”“I am sitting,” I said.“Lie down,” he corrected.I obeyed, not because he told me to, but because my legs were already giving up on me. I
Chloe’s POV I pressed my fingers to my forehead.Too hot.I grabbed the thermometer from the cabinet, hands clumsy, and waited impatiently as it beeped. When I looked at the number, my stomach sank.I had a fever.I sank onto the edge of the bathtub, the room tilting slightly again. This wasn’t just stress. This wasn’t exhaustion alone. Something was wrong.I crawled back into bed, pulling on a loose shirt, my movements slow and heavy. My body ached now, a deep soreness settling into my muscles. Even my scalp felt tender.I stared at the ceiling, breathing shallowly, trying not to think.About the dizziness.About the nausea.About how this had been happening more often.I told myself it was the pressure. The lack of rest. The constant tension. I had been through too much lately. Anyone would get sick.Still, unease settled in my chest.I reached for my phone, then stopped.I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I didn’t want questions or concern or assumptions. I just wanted sleep. I just
Chloe’s POV No disappointment. No relief. Just acceptance.This wasn’t my moment. Not like this. Not yet.I glanced briefly toward Drake.He was watching me, not the stage. His expression was unreadable, but something in his eyes tightened when our gazes met. I looked away first.The awards continued.Department recognition. Team excellence. Community impact. Each category unfolded with the same careful choreography. The night moved forward steadily, almost mechanically, as if everyone was determined to stick to the script.But beneath it all, tension hummed.Every time a name was announced, eyes darted subtly toward Margaret, gauging her reaction. Every mention of leadership drew attention to Drake. Every applause carried a faint edge, as if people were clapping not just for the winners but for the illusion of stability.Toward the end, the announcer returned to the podium one final time.“And now,” she said, “a special recognition.”The room quieted again.“This award,” she continu
Chloe’s POV Drake reached us.“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly, his gaze flicking between us.Margaret spoke first, her voice trembling despite her effort to steady it. “Ask her.”I turned to her slowly. “Don’t.”Drake’s eyes narrowed. “Margaret?”She laughed sharply. “She assaulted me.”I smiled faintly. “You slapped me.”The space between us went tight.Drake’s gaze dropped briefly to my cheek. The red mark was already faint but visible if you knew where to look. His jaw clenched.“You put your hands on her?” he asked.Margaret bristled. “She provoked me.”“I told you not to touch me,” I said calmly. “You did anyway.”People nearby were starting to notice the tension now. Conversations slowed. Eyes lingered. Jack appeared a few feet away, watching with open interest, clearly enjoying the spectacle.Drake took a breath, clearly choosing restraint. “This is not the place.”Margaret scoffed. “Of course you’d defend her.”“I’m asking for civility,” he said evenly.She laughed again, bi
Chloe’s POV I had barely taken three steps toward the quieter corridor when I felt her presence.Margaret.She didn’t announce herself. She never did. She appeared like she owned the space, heels clicking softly against the marble floor, posture perfect, chin lifted. The music from the hall was muffled here, replaced by low lighting and silence thick enough to suffocate.I stopped walking.I didn’t turn immediately. I already knew why she was here.“So,” she said coldly behind me. “This is what you do.”I turned slowly to face her.Her eyes were burning. Not rage yet. Something sharper. Disgust mixed with jealousy she would never admit to.“You show up uninvited,” she continued, stepping closer, “dress like temptation itself, and sit there like you own what isn’t yours.”“I was invited,” I replied flatly. “Check your records.”She laughed, short and bitter. “You always have an answer.”“I learned from the best,” I said.That landed.Her lips tightened. “Do you know what you are?”I t







