Chapter 8 Aurelia
AURELIA
I’m staring at the box on the table. White cardboard. Blue lettering with instructions in English and French printed on the side.
Helena is still standing there waiting, but I can’t make my hands move to pick it up.
“Aurelia,” she says quietly.
“I can’t.”
“You have to.”
“What if it’s positive?”
“What if it’s not?”
I look up at her, and the kindness in her eyes makes this worse somehow. She’s not angry or judgmental. Just practical, as if pregnancy tests are something she handles every day.
Maybe she does. Maybe Victor sends all his problematic nieces here, and Helena has a drawer full of these things.
The thought makes me laugh. High and sharp and not funny at all.
“Okay,” I say. “Okay.”
I grab the box and walk to the bathroom before I can change my mind.
The instructions are simple. Pee on the stick. Wait three minutes. One line means negative. Two lines mean positive. Easy.
My hands shake so badly that I almost drop it twice, but I manage to follow the instructions, set the test on the counter, and then I just stand there staring at it. Willing the universe to give me one line. Just one. Let this be stress or the heat or anything other than what I think it is.
The first line appears immediately. Control line. That’s normal.
I watch the space where the second line would appear, counting seconds in my head because I forgot to check the time, and I need to know when three minutes are up.
One minute passes.
Maybe it’s negative. Maybe I’m just exhausted and emotional because I’ve been locked up for a month, and my period is late because of stress, and I’m crying over flowers because I’m lonely, not because there’s a baby growing inside me.
The second line appears. Faint at first. Then darker.
Two lines.
I sink onto the closed toilet lid and stare at the test in my hand.
I’m pregnant with Cassian’s baby.
I had sex with him six weeks ago. Twice. We didn’t use protection because I didn’t insist—because it felt good, and I wanted it, and I wasn’t thinking about consequences. And now there’s a baby.
His baby.
“Aurelia?” Helena knocks on the door. I don’t know how long I’ve sat here.
I open the door, still holding the test. Helena looks at my face, then at the test in my hand, and her expression shifts into something sad and resigned.
“Positive,” I say, even though she can see it.
“I’m sorry.” She sounds like she means it, which somehow makes this worse. “Who’s the father?” she asks gently.
I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does.”
“No.”
“Aurelia, your uncle is going to ask. When I tell him you’re pregnant, he’s going to demand to know who the father is. You can tell me now, or you can tell him later, but either way, he’s going to find out.”
“Then let him ask.”
Helena’s mouth tightens. “I have to call him.”
“Don’t.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“Please.”
“I’m sorry.” She leaves the bathroom, and I hear her footsteps crossing the main room. Hear her pick up the phone. Hear her voice, low and careful, speaking to someone on the other end.
I walk out and stand in the doorway, watching her.
“Yes, she’s here,” Helena says into the phone. “Yes, I’m sure. The test was positive.” A pause. “I asked. She won’t say.” Another pause. “Tomorrow? Yes, I’ll make sure she’s here.” She hangs up and turns to look at me. “He’s coming tomorrow.”
“Of course he is.”
“He wants to know who the father is.”
“I’m not telling him.”
“You will,” Helena says. Not unkindly. Just factual. “Victor doesn’t ask questions he doesn’t get answers to.”
She’s right. I know she’s right. But I hold on to the refusal anyway, because it’s the only thing I have left.
The rest of the day passes in a blur.
Helena brings me food I don’t eat. She tries to make conversation I don’t respond to. Eventually, she gives up and leaves me alone in my room. I lie on the bed and stare at the ceiling.
My hand drifts to my stomach without permission. It’s still flat. No sign that anything has changed. But there’s something there now. A cluster of cells dividing and growing and becoming a person.
Cassian’s person.
I think about him constantly. The way he looked at me on the plane. The way he touched me in his hotel room. The way his voice sounded when he told me to stay with him.
Then I think about the gun in Cassian’s hand, and Dmitri Petrov’s body on the pavement, and the blood.
I don’t know which version of him is real.
Maybe both. Maybe neither.
It doesn’t matter now. He’s gone, and I’m here, and there’s a baby, and Victor is coming tomorrow to decide what happens next.
I fall asleep with my hand still on my stomach.
The sound of a boat engine wakes me. I sit up, disoriented, sunlight streaming through the windows. Morning. How long did I sleep? The engine gets louder, then cuts off. Voices outside. Men’s voices. Heavy footsteps on the dock.
Victor.
My stomach twists, and for a second, I think I’m going to throw up. Morning sickness or fear, I can’t tell.
Helena appears in my doorway. “He’s here.”
“I know.”
“He brought men with him.”
“Of course he did.”
I get out of bed and pull on clothes. Shorts and a tank top because it’s already hot and I don’t have the energy to care what I look like.
When I walk into the main room, Victor is standing by the window looking out at the ocean. Two of his men are stationed by the door. Big, armed, expressionless.
Victor turns when he hears me. He looks the same as always. An expensive suit despite the heat. Hair slicked back. Cold gray eyes that miss nothing.
“Aurelia,” he says. “You look terrible.”
“Thanks.”
“Helena tells me you’re pregnant.”
“She’s very efficient.”
“Who’s the father?”
“Good morning to you too, Uncle.”
His jaw tightens. “Don’t play games with me. Who is he?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Because you’re carrying a child, and I need to know what kind of problem that creates for this family.”
“The only problem here is you locking me up in the middle of nowhere.”
“You ran away. You embarrassed the family. The man you were supposed to marry died because of you. Did you think there wouldn’t be consequences?”
“He was eighty years old. His heart gave out because he was ancient, not because of me.”
Victor crosses the room in three strides. His fingers lock around my arm, heat and pressure biting into my skin. I twist instinctively, but his grip is firm.
“You cost me an alliance,” he growls. “You made me look weak. And now you’re pregnant with some stranger’s baby, which means I have to clean up another one of your mistakes.”
“Let go of me.”
“Tell me who the father is.”
“No.”
His grip tightens. “Aurelia.”
“You can’t make decisions like this without the family,” I say, trying to pull away. “Julian should be here.”
“Your brother is dealing with his own problems.”
“Then call him. Let him decide what happens.”
“Julian and his wife just lost another baby,” Victor says, and his voice is almost gentle. “Nadia is devastated. Julian is barely holding it together.”
The information hits me like a slap. “I didn’t know,” I say quietly.
“You’ve been gone for months. A lot has happened.”
“Then maybe I should be there. With my family. Instead of being locked up here.”
Victor’s mouth curves into something cruel.
“Actually, this could work out perfectly. Julian and Nadia can’t seem to carry a pregnancy to term.
But you apparently have no problem getting pregnant.
Maybe you could give them your baby. Be a surrogate mother for your brother. I’m sure they’d be grateful.”
The words take a moment to land.
When they do, rage floods through me so hot and bright that I forget to be scared.
“You’re insane.”
“I’m practical.”
“You want to take my baby and give it to Julian?”
“It would solve everyone’s problems. Julian gets the child he desperately wants. You get to stay useful to this family. The baby will be raised by people who actually want it.”
“I want it.”
The words come out before I can stop them, and I realize with shocking clarity that they’re true. I want this baby. Even though it’s Cassian’s. Even though it’s proof of one reckless night. Even though it complicates everything.
I want it.
“Do you?” Victor asks, watching me carefully. “You don’t look like someone who’s ready to be a mother. You look like someone who can barely take care of herself.”
“Go to hell.”
“Tell me who the father is, Aurelia. Last chance.”
“Or what? You’ll torture it out of me?”
“I’ll make sure you understand exactly how few choices you have left.”
We stare at each other, and I see the truth in his eyes. He’s not bluffing. He will do whatever it takes to get the information he wants, and I can’t stop him. I’m alone here. Trapped. Powerless.
“Cassian Rourke,” I say finally.
The silence that follows is absolute.
Victor watches me in silence, and for a while, nothing about him changes.
Then his focus narrows, as if a thought has finished forming, and his eyes widen just enough to register surprise before his features settle again.
When his mouth finally lifts, it’s slow and assured.
The kind of smile that comes from devising an evil plan.
“Cassian Rourke,” he repeats. “You’re telling me you’re carrying Cassian Rourke’s child.”
“Yes.”
“The Irish mob boss. Our enemy. The man who’s been at war with this family for twenty years.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“We met on a plane. I didn’t know who he was at first, nor did he know who I was. We hooked up. Then your people dragged me here before I could tell him anything.”
Victor stares at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. “He came to me,” he says slowly. “Two weeks ago. Demanded I return the woman my people took off the street during a mob shooting.”
“He did? He came looking for me?”
I can’t fathom this. It must mean I wasn’t just another random hookup. Maybe he likes me too. He must like me enough to meet up with a Vance to try to find me, much less Victor.
“You have to let me go,” I say to my uncle. “You can’t keep me locked up here forever.”
Victor doesn’t seem to listen. “Does he know about the baby?”
“No. Why?”
“Then he’s not going to.”
“You can’t keep this from him.”
“I can do whatever I want. You’re my niece. That baby is a Vance before it’s anything else.”
“It’s Cassian’s child.”
“It’s leverage,” Victor says, and the satisfaction in his voice makes me want to scream. “Do you understand what this means? Cassian Rourke’s child, carried by a Vance daughter. Raised under our control. That baby is worth more than any alliance I lost when you ran away.”
“I’m not a weapon. The baby isn’t a weapon.”
“Everything is a weapon if you know how to use it.”
“I won’t let you do this.”
“You don’t have a choice.” He turns to his men. “Increase security on the compound. I want someone watching her at all times. If she tries to leave, stop her. If she tries to hurt herself, stop her. That baby is too valuable to risk.”
Then he turns back to me. “You’re staying here until you give birth. After that, we’ll move you somewhere more secure. Ireland, maybe. Somewhere Rourke would never think to look.”
“You can’t do this.”
“I already am, little niece.” He heads toward the door, his men following.
I lunge forward, but one of the men blocks me, his arm across my chest like a bar.
“You can’t make me do this!” I scream at Victor’s back. “I’ll kill myself! I’ll kill the baby! I’ll do whatever it takes to stop you!”
Victor pauses at the door and looks back. “No, you won’t,” he says calmly. “Because despite everything, you’re not a killer. You’re just a girl who made a stupid mistake, and now you have to live with the consequences.”