Chapter Twenty-Seven
Unbelievable
Livia
I stared at the text from Carter as if it’d just come through and hadn’t been living on my device for days now.
Rook: Save Sunday night for me. I want to take you somewhere.
I’d shot back a silly text about that being ominous and wondering if I should share my location with Maven, but Carter hadn’t joked back at all. Instead, he’d simply replied:
Rook: Be ready by five, okay? Wear whatever makes you feel good.
I wondered if he could sense it, me pulling away and retreating into my shell like I was so used to doing.
I wondered if that was why he was insistent, why he wasn’t leaving it up to me any longer.
I’d kept telling him I’d love to see him, too, but that I had some things to take care of — which wasn’t a lie, but wasn’t the whole truth, either.
I wasn’t taking back anything I’d said to him, and I wasn’t regretting any feelings I’d confessed.
But I was reeling, and I needed some space to figure out why.
Part of it was that we were now in unfamiliar territory, I’d realized after a few days alone. When he was my student and I was his teacher, everything was in order. I knew where to place him in my mind, knew how to handle him.
But when he asked for more, when he told me he loved me…
He obliterated whatever box I had him in, smashing it straight to hell.
I didn’t know where we went from here. The obvious next step would be for us to date each other publicly, but after all we’d been through together, it felt strange to just pretend we suddenly started going out.
And to call each other boyfriend and girlfriend already would probably send our friends into shock.
How did we explain it?
Did we really need to?
And without those clear boundaries of the contract we’d signed, what exactly were we? Was I his Domme, or just his girl? Where did the power reside?
Not knowing the answer to that question was what made my skin crawl most.
Adding more confusion to the pot was the fact that the third payment from Carter hit my bank account a few days after we’d set fire to our little agreement. And it wasn’t that I expected him to just take back his offer and not pay me the rest of what he promised, but now it felt… strange.
Tainted.
Like I was a part of some shady business instead of a clearly defined transaction like we’d had laid out before.
I wasn’t typically one for anxiety, but I was definitely having anxious thoughts. I was usually able to quell them by throwing myself into work or losing hours making jewelry. But right now, I was alone in a sterile room with nothing but time to think.
The good thing was that no matter how my mind raced, I didn’t feel unsure about Carter. I didn’t have any uncertainty about how I felt for him or how he felt for me.
And I decided at the end of the day, that was all that really mattered.
The rest, we could work out together.
But there was something I needed to do for myself first.
Which was why I was here now, butt-ass naked under a paper gown, waiting for my doctor to return and tell me what our next steps were for freezing my eggs.
I loved Carter. And I believed he loved me. But that didn’t stop the independence that had burned in me since my parents cut me off as a teenager. The truth of the matter was that I wouldn’t feel safe unless I was always looking out for myself, even if someone else was there to help carry the load.
And this, freezing my eggs, having a child one day… this was for me.
Carter and I had flippantly discussed it on our day off together, and I knew from that conversation that he didn’t want kids.
Maybe he would change his mind about that.
Maybe we’d have a kid together one day.
But I wasn’t willing to leave my dreams to chance.
This was still something I wanted, something that I felt deep in my soul like a tattooed fortune.
The money he paid me for our arrangement still mattered to me.
I already had my financial advisor tuck most of it away, getting it out of my bank account so I could pretend like it didn’t exist. I told her to invest it and put it in a high-yield savings, whatever she needed to do to protect it.
I would have a child one day.
And I would be able to provide for us, with or without the help of anyone else.
That was a promise I’d made to myself, and I was intent on keeping it.
Still, sitting there in the too-bright room, the crinkling paper beneath me loud with every nervous shift, I couldn’t help the old familiar whispers creeping in.
What if I was already too late?
What if I didn’t have as many eggs as I thought?
What if my body betrayed me the way people I loved had?
I tried to shake it off, even as my doctor’s warning about low AMH levels echoed in my mind. I took a long, slow breath and reminded myself that this was why I was here.
To get answers. To take control. To make a plan.
The door clicked open before I could spiral any further.
“Livia,” Doctor Stroud greeted warmly, clipboard tucked against her chest as she crossed the room. “Sorry for the wait. Fridays are notoriously hectic, no matter how we try to schedule them not to be.” She was all sweet, warm smiles and calm authority. “I know you understand.”
I nodded, trying to mirror her smile, though mine felt as stiff as the gown I wore.
Doctor Stroud seemed to clock that, her smile softening. “I know these appointments can be a little nerve-wracking, but you’re doing the right thing coming in.”
“Thanks,” I said, my voice scratchy from sitting with my thoughts too long.
She pulled up the stool and sat across from me, scanning my chart. “So, before we get into next steps, I do need to ask a few routine questions — just to have the full picture. These might be a bit repetitive from the nurse who took your vitals, but I just like to double-check things myself.”
Her smile was so comforting, and yet I still felt my stomach somersault the way it had all appointment. “Okay.”
“Are you sexually active?”
“Yes.”
“One partner? Multiple?”
“One,” I answered quickly, then cleared my throat. “Just one.”
“Any contraception being used?”
“I’m on birth control, but otherwise, no.”
Doctor Stroud nodded, jotting a note, then glanced back at me. “And how long have you two been together?”
My cheeks heated. “It’s… new,” I admitted.
“Alright.” She smiled, reassuring, and set her pen down. “So, typically, we’d start with a baseline scan of your ovaries, hormone testing, and a discussion about your timeline. We’d also talk about retrieval cycles and what medications you’d need to begin in order to stimulate production.”
Relief fluttered through me that we were moving forward. “Okay. So… we can do that today?”
“Well,” she said gently, still smiling, “usually, yes. But in this case… we can’t.”
My brow furrowed. “Why not?”
Doctor Stroud’s eyes softened as she folded her hands. “Because… you’re pregnant, Livia.”
I blinked.
The words detonated inside me, ricocheting off every corner of my chest. I was sure I’d misheard them. I was sure there was no way in hell that could be—
But even as I thought to dismiss it, the reality crashed in. I’d been so busy, so stressed with work and my sister’s wedding that I knew I’d been a little inconsistent in taking my birth control. But a few hours couldn’t make that big of a difference, could it?
Or was there a time I’d skipped a day and didn’t realize?
For a long moment, I could only blink repeatedly as my thoughts raced to catch up, my mouth opening and closing like a fish pulled from water. Then, instinctively, my hand flittered to my stomach.
“I’m—” I choked on the word, a laugh bubbling up as my eyes filled. “I’m pregnant?”
Doctor Stroud nodded, calm and certain, her smile still as lovely as ever.
A sob-laugh broke free from my chest as I slapped a hand over my mouth.
My shoulders shook, tears spilling while joy surged through me so fast it felt like sunlight cracking through every seam.
I couldn’t stop laughing, couldn’t stop crying, my palm pressing harder into the flat of my belly as if I’d feel something there already.
But then the joy tangled with something darker, confusion and horror rushing in just as quickly. My smile trembled.
Carter.
If I was pregnant, the baby was undoubtedly his.
“I… I don’t understand,” I sputtered, shaking my head. “I’m on birth control. We weren’t… I wasn’t tracking my cycle or anything like that. We weren’t trying.”
He doesn’t even want a child, I reminded myself with panic slipping in like a mud slide, but I kept that part to myself.
Doctor Stroud reached out, touching my arm with a reassuring squeeze. “Your hormone levels from the labs came back clearly positive, which confirms the pregnancy.”
My throat was so tight I was sure I couldn’t swallow, but I tried anyway. “I haven’t felt anything.”
“You’re only a few weeks along — early enough that symptoms can be subtle or even nonexistent.
” Her smile softened. “And I know you’re on birth control, and that we’ve discussed your AMH levels being lower than average.
Both of those factors can make this feel confusing, even impossible.
But low AMH doesn’t mean you can’t get pregnant — it just means you may have fewer eggs overall.
Fertility and contraception don’t always line up as neatly as we’d like.
Even women with diminished ovarian reserve can conceive.
” Her shoulders lifted. “Sometimes when they least expect it.”
“This is… unbelievable.”
She nodded in understanding. “It may seem that way, but this is why we always test before we move forward with anything. With birth control pills, even slight inconsistencies — missing a dose, taking one late, or interactions with other medications — can reduce their effectiveness. It’s rare, but it happens. And it seems it happened here.”
My next exhale was shaky, my hand floating back to my abdomen. It was like everything in my universe had been shaken in that instant, like a snow globe without the pieces nailed down. Now everything was floating and flying, settling in the wrong places — or maybe the right ones all along.
Doctor Stroud paused, her voice steady. “We’ll do an ultrasound to confirm viability, but there’s no mistake, Livia. You’re pregnant.”
I stared at her, my pulse pounding in my ears, my body torn in two.
Joy, radiant and fierce, because this was the dream I’d always promised myself.
And dread, sharp and suffocating, because Carter Fabri had no idea what was about to hit him.