Nila
LIFE MOVED ON.
I learned to live with a broken heart and stopped jumping at shadows.
No one came to steal me back, and the threat of destroying my family’s life went unresolved. However, I had one question that never left: Are they just biding their time?
In my mind, I lived in a fake world of normalcy and safety. But somewhere out of sight, clouds were forming—growing heavier and more powerful every day.
I no longer trusted that the police could help or that publicity could keep me safe.
If the Hawks weren’t done with me, there was nothing anyone could do.
Hour after hour, I wondered why I stayed. Why I headed into the factory to work under crazy deadlines and demanding buyers. Why didn’t I just run?
The passion to create had gone.
I had no wish to sew.
I hated my listlessness.
I hated the coldness inside that no one could touch.
I lived in constant trepidation; serpents gathered in my gut, hissing with premonition. I missed Jethro with every fibre of my being. He was dazzling sunlight and now I lived in endless darkness.
I was dying without him.
But it wasn’t finished.
The debts weren’t done.
Vaughn wanted me to fly to Asia and hide. Father wanted me to enter witness protection and escape.
I didn’t want to do any of those things and worried about all of us—about what this had done to my family. But despite my worries, my clothing brand exploded overnight.
Nila went from exclusive couture to being the most wanted garments in all major department stores. Vaughn became the face of menswear and even dabbled in design himself.
And me...
I went from Weaver Whore to a slave for the Weaver Empire. I didn’t have the drive I once did but didn’t have the heart to tell my family.
The only time I had to stand still was to wobble with a vertigo attack.
I was paraded before media.
I was the centre of a worldwide scandal.
I was a marionette.
All I could do was clutch my brother as my life spiralled out of control.
I missed the tranquillity of Hawksridge.
I missed the lavender-scented breeze when I sat out in the gardens and sketched.
But most of all, I missed the soul-deep connection with Jethro.
I’d continued to bombard him with messages, but he didn’t text back.
Not once.
Not a single time.
My gut churned as the world laughed. Questions followed me wherever I went:
How could they get away with that?
Why didn’t they tell someone?
Why didn’t they run?
Even I felt that way.
Yes, the Debt Inheritance was used as a tool to wield power. Yes, it granted certain privileges to our pain. But none of that was the real reason.
There was nothing to stop Jethro or his family setting up a sniper rifle on the building opposite our home and firing rounds of ammo through our windows, slicing our lifespan in a blink.
They didn’t need the Debt Inheritance to kill us.
This was something more.
A game.
Something I felt was more to do with Jethro than with me. I was just the unlucky target. Just like any employee had to prove their loyalty and skills before a promotion, I had a horrible feeling I was Jethro’s final test.
* * * * *
Needle therefore, it wasn’t strong enough to have children.
I’d been careless.
I’d been fucking stupid.
Why did I think I could ignore it?
Stumbling to my feet, I grabbed my purse and charged out of the warehouse with its steampunk vibe and countless cubicles all with private sewing machines. My bodyguards that Tex had commissioned were somewhere close by, but I didn’t want them following me.
Not for this.
I didn’t take a breath until I’d run down the stairs and dashed down the road to a local pharmacy.
I didn’t think people might witness me buying a pregnancy test, and I definitely didn’t think I would bump into my twin as I came out with a little paper bag clutched in my hands.
All I focused on was getting answers. Answers I should’ve learned weeks ago.
I can’t be pregnant!
I slammed into his hard bulk.
V’s dark eyes widened, his arms automatically coming out to catch me. “Threads! Been looking for you. I have a new idea for the backlog and—” His gaze dropped to my fingers, concern etching his brow. “Eh, you okay?”
My cheeks heated.
No, I’m not okay.
I nodded, backing away from him and hiding the test behind me. “Yes, I’m fine. I have to return to work. See you later, alright?”
Pushing past, I bolted across the road, summoned the lift, and flew into my office in record speed.
The moment I was safe, I locked the door and charged into the bathroom.
“Please. Please don’t let me be pregnant.”
The mantra wouldn’t stop echoing in my head. There was no logical way I could be pregnant. Surely!
It was explainable. I’m not pregnant.
My hands trembled as I ripped open the baby-blue box and read the instructions. I’d never had to do this before. It was almost as embarrassing peeing on the testing strip as it was making myself come by a showerhead.
My head pounded.
Was that only last month? Had I gone from writhing with fantasies of Jethro Hawk to spiralling into panic thinking he’d knocked me up?
Oh, God.
“Please, don’t let me be pregnant!”
Shaking, I fumbled with what I had to do. Once done, I placed the cap back on the wet strip and tossed the test into the sink. I couldn’t touch it any longer. I couldn’t look.
Oh, God.
Oh, God!
I stepped away.
I stepped so far away.
I backed up against the wall, bracing myself against the cool grey tile.
I’m not pregnant.
I would know if I was pregnant.
You’ve been throwing up a lot.
That’s explainable.
You suffer from vertigo.
You. Are. Not. Pregnant.
My inner thoughts henpecked and argued, swinging between screaming for being so stupid, to planning how to kill myself just to get this nightmare over with.
Five minutes ticked past, and I still didn’t have the courage to look.
Go on.
Get it over with.
“Nila?”