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Pregnant With The Devil’s Heir. のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 1 - チャプター 7

7 チャプター

Chapter 1

Chapter 1. Elsie. The gates swing shut behind us.The air instantly smells like freshly cut hedges. Someone has planted flowers along the stone driveway, though I can’t tell what kind. Whatever they are, they probably cost more than my monthly rent.I look down the driveway. Cars in black, silver and deep blue are lined on both sides of it. I start counting them as I always do when I’m nervous.I’m somewhere around fifteen when my mother nudges my elbow.“Chin up,” she murmurs in a way that’s supposed to be encouraging, but it isn’t. The driveway alone is longer than the street I grew up on. Lights run along the edges, glowing softly in the dark. At the end of it sits the house—no, mansion. It has three floors and tall windows that are blazing with light. A few guests are still arriving and Valets move quickly between cars.My mother smooths the front of my dress without asking. “Stand straight.”“I am standing straight,” I answer, almost snapping at her. Rather than responding,

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Chapter 2

Chapter 2.Elsie. I’m not sure how long I’ve been walking down the hallway.The music from the party below is faint now, more of a low thump through the floor and the occasional burst of laughter drifting up the stairs.Up here it’s quiet. The chandeliers along the hallway blur when I look at them. For a second it looks like there are two of each light instead of one. I blink hard and they settle again.I slow down and put my hand on the wall as the floor shifts slightly under my feet.That’s… not normal.I’ve never actually been drunk before. Not properly. I’ve had a glass of wine once or twice, but nothing like this.My head feels light, but at the same time everything around me feels too sharp. The wallpaper under my fingers is rougher than it should be. The air feels warm against my skin.My heart is beating too fast.Second door on the left, that’s what my mother said.I push myself off the wall and start walking again, carefully this time.I take one step, then another.The hal

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Chapter 3

Chapter 3. Salvatore. The first thing I notice is that the bed is colder.Not the whole bed, but just the left side. I open my eyes.For a moment I stay still, looking at the ceiling of Hargrove’s guest suite, listening to the quiet. And then I sit up.The room looks the way it should, except she isn’t in it.Last night her dress was on the floor and now the floor is empty.Her shoes had been near the door. The door itself is closed now, gently enough that I know she didn’t slam it on the way out. Whoever she is, she left quietly.I know that kind of exit. I’ve made it myself in enough hotels and apartments to recognize the signs.Still, something about seeing it from the other side sits wrong in my chest.I rub a hand across my face.My head feels slow.Not pain exactly but just a dull pressure behind my eyes, like my thoughts are moving through water. I only had two glasses of whiskey last night. I know exactly what two glasses do to me. I’ve known since I was seventeen.This isn

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Chapter 4

Chapter 4.Elsie. Two months laterI wake before my alarm.A nausea sits in my chest like a stone, spreading slowly through my jaw, fingertips, the backs of my knees. I lie still for a moment, letting my body decide how badly it wants me to move.Eventually, I get up and kneel on the cold tile floor of the bathroom, throwing up into the water closet. I tell myself it’s from stress. That the headaches and sleepless nights were from stress, although it’s been two months of cold tile floors. Two months of brushing my teeth twice every morning to scrub out the taste of bile. Two months of Mom standing in doorways, watching.I take the test from the package, fumbling with the wrapper like it’s made of knives. My hands are shaking, but I try to steady them against the edge of the sink. I close my eyes for a moment, imagining the worst and the impossible, and then I follow the instructions, holding the stick just right, peeing on it and waiting.The seconds stretch.I count tiles on the fl

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Chapter 5

Chapter 5ElsieIf someone had told me a week ago that I would be getting married today, I would have laughed.If they had told me it would be to a man old enough to be my grandfather, I would have thrown something at them.Yet here I am, standing at the back of the church in a white dress that doesn’t belong to me, about to walk down the aisle to marry Aldric.The church is full.I don’t recognize most of the faces. They belong to Aldric’s world—his associates and his acquaintances. They sit in the rows, dressed well, holding their programs as they murmur quietly to one another.When I step into the aisle, the murmuring softens and heads turn, every eye in the church is suddenly on me.My father’s hand rests on my arm.I keep my eyes on the aisle.At the end of it, Aldric waits in a dark suit. His silver hair is perfectly arranged, his hands clasped neatly in front of him. His face is set into something meant to look warm but it doesn’t reach his eyes.He watches me the whole way dow

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Chapter 6

Chapter 6ElsieFor a moment, nothing happens.The priest stares at the man in front of him like he doesn’t understand the language that was just spoken.Salvatore—because I remember now, faintly, that someone said his name that night—doesn’t move. He stands beside me with the same quiet patience he walked down the aisle with, as if he has all the time in the world.The church is completely silent, and then, somewhere in the back, someone begins to sob softly.The priest’s hands shake so badly the pages of the book rustle against each other. His eyes flick down to the body at our feet, then back up to the man who just killed him.Salvatore’s gaze doesn’t leave the priest’s face.“Continue,” he repeats.His voice isn’t louder this time, if anything, it’s softer. That somehow makes it worse.The priest swallows. His Adam’s apple bobs visibly. His eyes dart once toward the congregation, toward the armed men stationed between the pews, toward the open doors where more of them stand watchi

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Chapter 7

Chapter 7. Elsie. The helicopter is louder than I expect.The blades slice through the air in heavy, rhythmic thuds that vibrate through the ground beneath my feet. Wind whips around us, tugging at my veil, dragging loose strands of my hair across my face.For a moment I just stand there.My brain hasn’t quite caught up with the fact that this is really happening.Salvatore’s hand rests lightly on the small of my back. It isn’t forceful, but it’s enough to guide me forward.“Careful,” he says.His voice is calm, almost conversational, like we’re stepping into a car after dinner instead of leaving a church where someone was just murdered.I climb into the helicopter.The interior smells like leather and metal and something faintly sharp, like fuel. The seats are dark and smooth, bolted to the floor in two rows.One of the men shuts the door behind us with a solid metallic click.Immediately the noise doubles and my ears ring.The world outside the windows becomes a blur of movement a

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