Chapter 10 Aurelia
AURELIA
I’m so pregnant that I can’t see my feet anymore.
My belly is enormous, stretching the fabric of every shirt I own until Helena finally gave up and started buying me clothes three sizes too big.
My back aches constantly. My ankles are swollen.
The babies kick me at all hours, little feet or elbows or fists jabbing into my ribs like they’re testing the limits of the space they have left.
The doctor comes every two weeks, says they’re both healthy and everything is progressing normally for twins.
Twins.
I’m carrying two babies. Two tiny humans who are going to arrive any day now, and I still can’t wrap my head around it.
Life has changed in ways I didn’t expect.
The Baptiste family still comes by, but I can’t play with the kids anymore, or chase Marcus when he steals Celine’s toys, or walk down to the beach with Asha to collect shells.
I just sit on the porch or in the garden, huge and exhausted, while they bring me things and tell me stories.
Marie checks on me almost daily now. She brings me home-cooked food, insisting I need to eat more to keep my strength up. Thomas nods at me from a distance, respectful and kind. The kids are fascinated by my belly, pressing their small hands against it to feel the babies move.
“When they come out, can we hold them?” Celine asks one afternoon, her gap-toothed smile bright.
“Maybe,” I say. “If you’re very gentle.”
“I’ll be gentle! I’m always gentle!”
Marcus snorts. “You dropped your doll in the ocean last week.”
“That was an accident!”
I smile despite the exhaustion weighing me down. These kids are the only good thing about being trapped here, and I’m going to miss them when I leave.
Because I will leave eventually. Victor made that clear.
Julian has visited three times since I told Victor about the pregnancy. The first time, he came alone, looking tired and older than I remembered. He hugged me carefully, as if I might break, and we sat on the porch while Helena made tea that neither of us drank.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know Victor sent you here. I didn’t know any of this until he told me you were pregnant.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“It feels like it is.” He looked at my belly, and something sad crossed his face. “Nadia and I lost another one two months ago. Our fifth miscarriage.”
“Julian—”
“Victor suggested you could be a surrogate for us. Give us your babies after you deliver.”
My hands went to my stomach instinctively. “He told me that too.”
“I said no. I told him that was insane, that you’re my sister, that those are your children. But he wouldn’t listen.”
“He’s gone mad.”
Julian was quiet for a long moment. “My hands are tied, Aurelia. As long as Victor is alive, he makes the decisions. He’s older, he has more influence with the family, and I can’t override him without starting a war.”
“So I’m stuck here.”
“For now. But when he’s gone, when I’m fully in charge, things will change. I promise you that.”
It was the best he could offer, and we both knew it.
His second visit was shorter. He brought updates about the family, told me about Nadia and how she was coping, and asked about my health. He held my hand when I cried about being trapped, scared, and alone.
His third visit was two weeks ago. He looked at my belly and shook his head. “You’re huge.”
“Thanks. That’s exactly what every pregnant woman wants to hear.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant, they’re coming soon.”
“Any day now, according to the doctor.”
“Are you scared?”
“Terrified.”
He squeezed my hand. “You’re going to be a great mother.”
I wanted to believe him.
The contractions start in the middle of the night.
I wake up to a sharp pain low in my belly, so intense that I gasp out loud. It fades after a few seconds, and I lie there trying to catch my breath. False labor, maybe. The doctor warned me about that.
Then another contraction hits, stronger than the first.
I sit up, hands on my stomach, and feel the muscles tighten like a fist clenching. When it passes, I’m sweating despite the cool night air.
“Helena!” My voice comes out louder than I intended.
She appears in my doorway within seconds, already dressed like she’s been waiting for this. “It’s time?”
“I think so.”
“How far apart are the contractions?”
“I don’t know. Maybe five minutes?”
Helena pulls out her phone and makes a call. She speaks quickly in a low voice, then hangs up and turns back to me. “The doctors are on their way. They’ve been staying in the village for the last week, just in case. They’ll be here in ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes?”
“Can you walk?”
I nod, even though I’m not sure. Helena helps me out of bed and into the main room, where she’s already set up a makeshift delivery area. Clean sheets on the couch. Towels stacked nearby. A basin of water. Medical supplies I don’t recognize.
Another contraction hits, and I double over, gripping Helena’s arm.
“Breathe,” she says calmly. “In through your nose, out through your mouth.”
I try, but the pain makes it hard to focus on anything except not screaming.
The doctors arrive exactly when Helena said they would.
Two men, both in their fifties, carrying medical bags and equipment.
One of them introduces himself as Dr. Williams, the other as Dr. Patel.
They’re efficient and professional, setting up quickly while Helena helps me onto the bed they’ve brought into my room.
“We’re going to monitor the babies,” Dr. Williams says, attaching sensors to my belly. “Make sure they’re handling the labor well.”
“Are they okay?”
“So far, yes. Strong heartbeats. You’re doing great.”
I don’t feel like I’m doing great. I feel like I’m being torn apart from the inside.
The labor lasts fourteen hours.
Fourteen hours of pain that comes in waves, building and cresting and crashing over me until I can’t think about anything except getting through the next contraction.
Helena stays beside me the entire time, holding my hand, wiping sweat from my face, telling me I’m strong even though I don’t believe her.
The doctors monitor everything by checking the babies’ heartbeats constantly, adjusting my position, and giving me water when I can drink and ice chips when I can’t.
At some point, I start crying, not from the pain, but from the loneliness of it.
Cassian should be here.
The thought comes out of nowhere and hits me harder than my contractions. He should be here, holding my hand, seeing his children born. But he doesn’t even know they exist.
“I wish he were here,” I whisper during a break between contractions.
Helena squeezes my hand. “I know.”
“He’s never going to meet them.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Victor won’t let him.”
“Have faith.”
I want to believe her, but I can’t. Not when Victor is already planning to move us to Ireland, to hide us away where Cassian will never find us.
“Push,” Dr. Williams says, and I’m pulled back into the moment.
The first baby is born at dawn. He comes out screaming, tiny and red. Dr. Williams holds him up, and I see dark hair and flailing fists and a face scrunched up in fury at being forced into the world.
“It’s a boy,” Dr. Williams says, and there’s warmth in his voice.
They clean him quickly and place him on my chest, and the moment his skin touches mine, something shifts inside me. An overwhelming rush of love so intense it feels like drowning.
This tiny, perfect human is mine, and I would kill anyone who tried to take him from me.
“One more,” Dr. Patel says. “You’re doing great, Aurelia. One more push.”
The second baby comes twenty minutes later. He’s quieter than his brother, making soft mewling sounds instead of screams. They place him on my chest next to the first, and I look down at both of them, overwhelmed by the weight of what I’ve just done.
“They’re beautiful,” Helena says, and her voice is thick with emotion.
I can’t speak. I can only stare at them, memorizing every detail. The curve of their ears. The way their tiny hands curl into fists. The dark hair that’s already thick on both their heads.
They look like him.
Even this small, even hours old, I can see Cassian in their faces. The shape of their eyes. The set of their jaws. They’re going to grow up looking like their father, and he’s never going to know.
“What are their names?” Dr. Williams asks.
I haven’t thought about it. But now they’re here, and they need names.
“Finn,” I say, looking at the first baby, the loud one who came into the world screaming. And then I look down at the second, quieter than his brother. “And Liam.”
Helena smiles. “Irish names.”
“Their father is Irish.”
She doesn’t say anything to that.
The doctors finish cleaning up, check my vitals one more time, and leave instructions with Helena about what to watch for. Then they’re gone, and it’s just me and Helena and my sons in the quiet morning light.
Three days later, I’m in bed, still recovering, when I hear the speedboat engine. Helena appears in my doorway, her expression carefully neutral. “Your uncle is here.”
My arms tighten around Finn, who’s sleeping against my chest. Liam is in a bassinet beside the bed, making soft snuffling sounds.
“Tell him to leave.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
Victor walks into my room in a three-piece suit, looking exactly the same as he did the last time he was here, when he told me my pregnancy was leverage. His eyes go to the twins immediately, and something calculating crosses his face.
“Twins,” he says. “Boys.”
“Don’t touch them.”
“I’m not going to touch them, Aurelia. I’m here to discuss logistics.”
“There’s nothing to discuss.”
“There’s plenty to discuss.” He pulls a chair over and sits down, completely at ease. “You’re being moved in two weeks. As soon as the doctor clears you for travel.”
“Where?”
“Ireland. A village called Ballycotton on the southern coast. It’s remote, secure, and far from any Vance operations. You’ll have a house, staff, everything you need to raise the boys.”
“But I’m not free. You’re using them as weapons.”
“I’m ensuring they’re protected. There’s a difference.
” He leans forward slightly. “Cassian Rourke is still searching for you, though. My sources tell me he has people watching every property we own in the States. He’s obsessed with finding you, which means he can never know about those babies. Do you understand?”
I hold Finn tighter. “Yes.”
“Ireland is perfect. It’s the last place he’d look. You’ll be comfortable there, and the boys will grow up with everything they need.”
“Except their father.”
“Their father is a killer and a criminal. They’re better off without him.”
I want to argue, but I’m too exhausted and too overwhelmed by the weight of motherhood and the terror of knowing Victor has all the power here.
“Two weeks,” Victor says, standing. “Pack what you want to bring. Everything else will be provided.” He walks to the bassinet and looks down at Liam. For a moment, something almost soft crosses his face. “They look like him,” he says quietly. “That’s going to be a problem when they’re older.”
Then he leaves, and I’m alone with my sons. I look down at Finn, still sleeping against my chest, and then at Liam in his bassinet.
I will protect them. No matter what it takes, no matter what Victor plans, I will keep them safe. Even if it means staying hidden forever.