Chapter 29
29
Cecely
My chest tightens. What I’ve done?
Blanc leans back, smirking like this is entertainment for him.
“Oh?” His fingers tap against his glass. “This should be good.”
I force my shoulders straight, my expression blank. Because if I’ve learned anything from Beatrice Blight, it’s that showing emotion is the quickest way to lose.
Her gaze sweeps over me, assessing, weighing. Like I’m something that needs correcting.
“Tell me, Cecely.” Her tone is light. Too light. “Is it true?”
I narrow my eyes. “Is what true?”
Beatrice tsks. “Oh, don’t be coy, darling. You were never very good at it.”
Blanc watches, amused as hell.
“You’ve been busy,” Beatrice continues, folding her hands neatly in her lap. “Flaunting about town. Associating with people you shouldn’t at that club in Dallas.”
“What are you talking about?”
She eyes me. “You know, for someone who claimed they never wanted to be like me, you sure took a page right out of my book.”
The meaning beneath her words is clear.
She knows .
She knows I’m pregnant. But how?
I lift my chin. “And?”
A small, sharp smile. “And now you’ve made yourself a target.”
Blanc hums, swirling his drink. “She’s not wrong, Cecely.”
I ignore him. My attention is locked on the woman who gave birth to me but never wanted me.
“You don’t get to waltz in here and act like you suddenly care about what happens to me.”
Beatrice tilts her head. “Don’t I?”
“You didn’t come here because you’re worried about me or even because of what I’ve been up to. You came here because you’re worried about yourself.”
She smiles. “Of course I’m worried about myself, but that’s not why I’m here.” She leans forward. “Does Claudius know?”
“Know what?”
Turning, I find Claudius in the doorway. I’m not sure how long he’s been standing there. How much he’s heard…
Beatrice doesn’t react to his presence. She doesn’t stiffen. Doesn’t flinch. She just smiles. Like she knew this was going to happen. Like she was counting on it.
“Know what?” Claudius repeats, his voice low, controlled.
My stomach twists. I haven’t told him. I was going to. Eventually. But now? Now, Beatrice is dangling the truth between us, waiting for it to snap.
I turn back to her, my pulse hammering.
“You need to leave.”
She tsks, shaking her head. “Oh, Cecely. You’re still so na?ve. You can’t hide something like this forever.” Her gaze flicks to my stomach and then to Claudius. “Especially not from him.”
Claudius steps forward, his eyes narrowing.
“What the hell is she talking about?”
Beatrice just smiles again, leaning back in her chair like she didn’t just light a match and toss it.
I force myself to breathe. To think. To decide what to say before this spirals out of control. Because this isn’t how he was supposed to find out. But I know one thing for sure. I won’t let her be the one to tell him.
I turn to Claudius, meeting his gaze head-on.
And before she can open her mouth again, I say it.
“I’m pregnant.”
The words hang in the air between us, and I see the moment Claudius registers them. The subtle shift in his expression. It’s not shock, not anger, not even disbelief. Just stillness.
His eyes lock onto mine, unreadable. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t react at all. And that? That’s worse than if he had yelled, laughed, or walked out.
I feel my pulse pound in my ears and I force myself not to fidget. Not to fill the silence. Not to panic. But my stomach twists, tightens, and knots because I don’t know what he’s thinking. And I haven’t even told him the worst part. That it’s Gabriel’s baby.
The seconds stretch until Beatrice’s smug, satisfied voice cuts through the quiet. “See? Like mother, like daughter.”
I whip my head toward her, rage flaring hot. “Get. Out.”
Her lips curl. “Of course. My work here is done.” She rises, adjusting her dress and turns to Blanc. “Let’s go, darling. There’s so much we need to catch up on.”
I don’t turn to watch them leave. Because Claudius is still standing there. Still silent. Still not reacting.
When it’s just the two of us, I tell him the next part.
“It’s not yours. It’s Gabriel’s.”
His entire body locks up like I just punched him.
I swallow, my throat aching. “It happened… that night. Five months ago.”
Still, he says nothing.
I force the words out, needing to fill the silence.
“I found out the day you came to get me.”
Finally, he blinks.
His hands flex at his sides, fingers twitching, like he doesn’t know what to do with them. Like he doesn’t know what to do with any of this. A muscle in his jaw tics. He doesn’t look at me. He looks past me. Through me. Like he’s seeing something else. Something darker. Something violent.
I take a shaky step forward. “Claudius?—”
“Don’t.”
The single word is low, hoarse. I freeze. Because I don’t recognize this version of him.
He takes a slow breath. Another.
Then, in a voice so quiet it chills me, he says, “Get out.”
The words hit like a gunshot.
“What?”
His eyes snap to mine, and I feel it. The storm brewing just beneath the surface.
“I said get out.”
His voice is calm and that scares me more than if he had screamed. Because Claudius Irons doesn’t do calm when he’s angry. He does destruction. And right now? He looks like he’s about to tear the world apart.
I should turn around, walk out of this room, give him space. But I don’t because he doesn’t get to shut down. He doesn’t get to order me out like I’m nothing. Like I didn’t just tear myself open and hand him the truth.
I lift my chin, holding his gaze. “No.”
Claudius stills. His nostrils flare, his jaw tight.
“Cecely.”
A warning.
One I ignore.
“You don’t get to push me away. Not after everything.”
He lets out a slow, sharp breath, shaking his head.
“Everything?” His voice is low, dangerous. “You mean the lie? Or that my brother… the brother I thought was fucking dead…knocked you up before you fell in bed with me?”
I flinch, but I stand my ground.
“I never lied to you.” My voice is sharp, steady. “I never pretended it was yours. I never tried to trap you. I?—”
“You didn’t tell me.”
His voice isn’t loud, but it’s cutting. It’s accusing. It’s true.
I swallow hard. “I didn’t know how.”
He laughs, but there’s no humor in it.
“You didn’t know how?” He steps forward, towering over me. “You didn’t know how, but your mother knew? Blanc knew? Fuck, Cecely, my enemies probably knew before I did.”
Guilt burns through me, hot and relentless.
“That’s not fair.”
“Fair?” He exhales sharply. “Do you think any of this is fucking fair?”
His voice breaks at the end. Just a little. But I hear it.
I feel it.
I take a step closer, touching his arm, but he yanks away.
“Don’t.”
My heart pounds. “Claudius.”
His hands go to his hips, his head tilting back as he drags in a rough breath. For a second, I think he’s going to snap.
But when his gaze lowers to mine again, I see something worse than rage. Distance.
“I need you to leave.”
This time, his voice is softer. But it cuts deeper. Because he means it. And if I push any further—if I demand more—I might lose him for good.
“Fine. But this isn’t over.” I touch his arm. “I care about you, Claudius. You have to believe me.”
“Go.” The word is a plea on his breath.
I don’t say another word because there’s nothing left to say. Not when I see it in his eyes. He’s shutting down.
I could fight. I could stay. But it wouldn’t change a damn thing. So I do what I said I wouldn’t. I turn and walk out.
But I don’t go back to my room. I don’t curl up in bed and let myself drown in this.
Because while Claudius is pushing me away, I still have a choice. I can either let this consume me or I can do something about it. And right now?
There’s only one thing left to do.
I move fast. I don’t know how much time I have before Claudius comes looking for me…if he even will. But I know one thing. I’m not leaving this house without answers.
Agnes had warned me to stay away from the basement. Leyla said the same thing. That means it’s exactly where I need to be.
I reach the farthest hallway, the one I wasn’t supposed to find. The door is heavier than I expected and it’s locked. But locks can be picked. It takes me a moment to find something that will fit inside the lock. My hands are steady despite everything.
Each second that passes by feels like an hour. What if someone hears me? What if someone comes looking for me? What if?—
The door groans as it swings open. The air inside is cold, stale. A staircase winds down, deeper into the house. A place no one wants me to go.
But I go anyway.
Because I need answers. Because I need to take control of something. And because deep down, I already know that what I’m about to find will change everything.
A chill seeps into my skin as I move down the stairs, the dim overhead light casting long, eerie shadows against the stone walls. The deeper I go, the heavier the air feels. Like I’m walking into something I was never meant to find.
My stomach twists, my instincts screaming at me to turn back. But I don’t.
Because if Gabriel is coming for me, I need to know why.
I reach the bottom of the staircase, stepping into a narrow hallway lined with metal doors.
Cells.
My breath catches. What the hell is this place?
I run my fingers along the nearest door. Cool metal. Thick. Reinforced. A prison. Not just any prison. One that’s been here a long time.
And then I see it. The carvings. Scratched into the metal. Some are faint, old. But one stands out. It’s fresh, deep, and deliberate.
I crouch, my fingers hovering over the etched letters.
Gabriel.
My pulse spikes. Gabriel was here. I trace the letters, my mind racing. This isn’t just a basement. It’s a holding cell. A place where someone was kept. Where Gabriel was kept. By who? Claudius? Blanc? Someone else?
I step back, my head spinning. But then I see something else. Something that has me moving.
A room full of monitors with live-streaming feeds. My breath catches and I can’t tear my eyes away. The screens stretch before me, flickering with moments no one should be seeing. Everywhere. Every corner of this house. And beyond.
The feeds cycle, shifting between locations and faces.
My mother and Blanc, too close, too familiar. Bonnie and Alyssa, laughing like they don’t have a care in the world. Mrs. Blanc, crying alone in a dimly lit room. Agnes. Leyla. Rose. Millie. Polina. More women I’ve never seen.
Then beyond the house. Lili. My heart lurches. Lili and Dimitri, playing with the kids. Harvey sits on the couch, laughing with them. They’re safe. For now. But they’re being watched. Every moment monitored.
The next feed shifts and my stomach twists violently. President Grant Carter and his wife. In the White House. How?
Brooks Henderson, the ex-wrestler, now a beloved actor, rocking a baby next to a beautiful woman.
A man and a woman I don’t recognize walking along the Vegas Strip.
But my gut knows. I don’t need names. I already know who they are.
The other Elite Members.
A web of power, woven together in secrecy. And someone in this house has been watching all of them. Tracking them. Recording them.
My pulse thrums and I reach out, fingers hovering over the controls. There has to be more. A way to trace this back to whoever is pulling the strings. I glance at the monitors again, my heart pounding. Whoever set this up is expecting someone to find it. And I just did.