Aria walked out of the clinic with the test envelope squeezed in her hand so tightly the paper bent. The doctor’s words still echoed in her mind. “You’re pregnant… but it’s high-risk. No stress, no emotional shock. Please take care of yourself.” Pregnant. After three years of trying, three years of hoping. She reached her car and sat for a moment, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. She covered her stomach with a trembling palm. “Gabriel… we did it,” she whispered. “You’re going to be a father.” A soft, hopeful smile tugged at her lips as she imagined him lifting her off the ground, kissing her forehead, thanking her for not giving up on them. She imagined calling him later, asking him to come home early so she could tell him properly. She took a breath, started the car, and drove toward the mansion. But when she reached the Blackstone gate, it stood wide open. It was never open. Not even for delivery men. Her smile faltered. Inside the house, voices carried from up
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