Chapter 24 Samantha
SAMANTHA
Two days of pretending everything is fine has turned me into an expert liar.
I’ve perfected the art of pushing food around my plate while claiming I already ate.
I’ve learned to excuse myself from rooms the moment certain smells hit my nose.
I’ve mastered the skill of smiling when my stomach is churning and nodding along to conversations while my mind screams that I’m carrying a baby for men who don’t know the truth about why I’m here.
This morning is no different. I wake up nauseous and spend twenty minutes in the bathroom willing myself not to throw up. The pregnancy test is hidden in the back of my drawer, wrapped in tissues like evidence of a crime.
Which, in a way, it is.
I dress carefully. Choose clothes that don’t cling to my stomach even though nothing shows yet. Apply makeup to hide the shadows under my eyes and the pallor of my skin.
By the time I make it to breakfast, I look almost normal.
Grant is already there, reading something on his tablet while drinking coffee. The smell hits me the moment I walk through the door. Rich and dark and suddenly the most revolting thing I’ve ever encountered.
My stomach lurches, but I force a smile and take my seat.
“Morning,” I say, reaching for the water pitcher instead of the coffee pot like I normally would.
“Morning.” Grant sets down his tablet and studies me. “You look tired.”
“Didn’t sleep well.” Not a lie. I spent most of last night staring at the ceiling and trying to figure out how to tell them. Or if I should tell them. Or if I should just disappear before this gets more complicated.
Donovan enters next, followed by Kai. They’re in the middle of an argument about something involving cars and speed limits.
“I’m just saying, if you’re going to own a Ferrari, you should actually drive it like a Ferrari,” Kai says, dropping into his chair.
“I’m saying I’d like to keep my license,” Donovan replies. “And not die.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“Staying alive is pretty fun, actually.”
Their banter usually makes me smile, but today it just makes my chest ache. They’re so normal. So comfortable with each other. So utterly unprepared for the way I’m about to destroy everything.
Staff brings out breakfast. Scrambled eggs. Bacon. Toast. Fresh fruit.
The bacon smell combines with the coffee, and my stomach rebels violently.
I grab my water glass and take a long drink, trying to settle the nausea through sheer force of will. Everyone is talking about their plans for the day. Grant has calls. Donovan needs to review contracts. Kai mentions something about checking on equipment at the main resort.
Normal conversation. Normal morning.
Except nothing is normal because I’m pregnant and hiding it and about to lose control of my body in front of all of them.
I take a bite of toast. Dry. Plain. Safe.
It sits in my stomach like a rock.
Grant is saying something about the Miami property when the nausea becomes impossible to ignore. My mouth floods with saliva. Sweat breaks out on my forehead.
I set down my fork carefully and try to breathe through it.
“Sam?” Kai’s voice seems far away. “You okay?”
“Fine.” The word comes out strangled. “Just need a second.”
But I don’t have a second because my stomach is heaving and I’m going to vomit right here at this table if I don’t move right now. I shove my chair back so hard it nearly tips over, and I run.
I barely make it to the hallway bathroom before I’m on my knees, throwing up everything in my stomach and then some. The violence of it surprises me. I didn’t know my body could do this. Didn’t know nausea could be this consuming.
When I finally stop, I’m shaking and crying and completely unable to pretend anymore.
The bathroom door opens.
Grant kneels beside me and pulls my hair back from my face even though there’s nothing left to throw up. He doesn’t say anything. Just reaches past me to flush the toilet and then helps me sit back against the wall.
He hands me a towel. Wets another one and presses it against my forehead. “How long?” he asks quietly.
“What?”
“How long have you known you’re pregnant?”
The question hangs in the air between us.
I could lie. Could claim I’m just sick. Could buy myself a few more hours or days before this conversation happens.
But I’m so tired of lying.
“Two days,” I whisper.
He nods slowly, processing. “And you didn’t tell us.”
“I couldn’t.” The tears are coming faster now. “I didn’t know how. I didn’t know what to say.”
“You say ‘I’m pregnant.’” His voice is gentle despite the words. “That’s all you had to say, Samantha.”
“But I can’t—I can’t be pregnant. I can’t do this.”
“Why not?”
Because I came here to destroy you. Because I’ve been lying since the moment I arrived. Because this baby is proof of my betrayal to everything I promised Robert and my mother and myself.
But I can’t say any of that, so I just shake my head and cry harder.
Grant stands and helps me up. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up and then we’re having this conversation properly.”
He guides me back to my room. Helps me wash my face and rinse my mouth. Sits me down on the bed and hands me water.
Then he texts someone.
Five minutes later, Donovan and Kai appear in my doorway.
“Is she okay?” Kai asks immediately, crossing the room to kneel in front of me. “What happened?”
“She’s pregnant,” Grant says simply.
Silence.
I can’t look at any of them. Can’t see their reactions. Can’t handle whatever disappointment or anger or confusion is about to come.
“Holy shit,” Kai breathes. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.” My voice is barely audible.
“That’s incredible!” He’s grinning now, that reckless joy spreading across his face. “We’re having a baby?”
“We don’t know if it’s just one,” I manage. “Could be more than one with—with all of you—”
“Even better.” Kai looks at his father and brother. “This is amazing.”
“It’s not amazing.” I’m crying again. “It’s a disaster. I can’t have a baby. I can’t do this.”
“Why not?” Donovan’s voice is calm but firm. He moves to sit beside me on the bed. “What’s the actual problem here?”
“The problem is I’m not ready for this. I didn’t plan this. I don’t even know whose—” I gesture helplessly.
“Does it matter?” Grant asks.
“Of course it matters!”
“Why?” He’s watching me with those gray eyes that see too much. “The baby will be ours. All of ours. That’s how this works.”
“But I don’t know how to be a mother. I don’t know anything about raising kids.”
“I had no idea what I was doing when Donovan was born,” Grant says. “I figured it out. You will too.”
“We’ll figure it out together,” Donovan adds. “That’s the whole point.”
Kai is still kneeling in front of me, his hands on my knees. “This is good news, Sam. I know it’s scary, but it’s good news.”
They’re happy. All three of them are genuinely happy about this.
Donovan is already pulling out his phone, searching for something. “We need to get you prenatal vitamins. And schedule a doctor’s appointment. When’s the last time you saw an OB?”
“I haven’t. I just found out two days ago.”
“Then we’ll get you in this week. The estate doctor can refer us to someone good.” He’s typing notes. “You’ll need to start taking folic acid immediately. And we should look into dietary changes.”
“The nursery can go in the room next to mine,” Grant says. “It has the best light and it’s close enough that we can hear if the baby needs anything at night.”
“We should probably get more than one crib,” Kai adds. “In case it’s twins. Or we could rotate rooms. I don’t mind having the baby in my room sometimes.”
They’re planning. Actually planning the future like this is real and happening and wanted.
“We’ll need to childproof the estate,” Donovan continues. “Cover the outlets. Gate the stairs. Lock the cabinets with cleaning supplies.”
“And baby monitors,” Kai says. “The good ones with video so we can check without waking them up.” He grins. “I can teach them to ski, as soon as they’re old enough.”
“You’re not teaching an infant to ski,” Donovan says.
“I said as soon as they’re old enough. Like three or four.”
“That’s still too young.”
“I learned at four.”
“And you have the reckless judgment to prove it.”
They’re arguing about skiing lessons for a baby that isn’t even born yet while Grant researches the best pediatricians in Colorado. I sit there watching them, feeling the guilt crush me from the inside out.
They’re making plans. Building a future. Discussing cribs and monitors and childproofing like we’re a real family who will raise this baby together.
And they have no idea.
No idea that I came here with the explicit purpose of destroying them. No idea that I’ve been lying about who I am and why I’m here. No idea that Robert has been coaching me to gather information and find their weaknesses so he can ruin them.
They think I’m just a woman who fell into their lives and decided to stay. Who fell in love with all three of them because of who they are, not because of some twisted revenge plot I’ve been half-assing for weeks.
They think this baby is a happy accident. A surprise but a welcome one. The next chapter in whatever story we’re writing together.
They don’t know the truth.
And watching them plan our baby’s future with such genuine joy and excitement makes the guilt unbearable.
Because I don’t deserve this. Don’t deserve their happiness or their trust or their love.
I came here to destroy them.
And instead, I destroyed myself.