Chapter 18Claire
18
Claire
I wake up feeling like I’ve been hit by a truck. My stomach churns, and a wave of nausea washes over me. I groan, rolling onto my side and curling into a ball. This is the third morning in a row I’ve felt like this.
“It’s just stress,” I mutter to myself, trying to will away the queasiness. “Being stuck in Valerian’s world is wearing me down.”
But even as I say the words, a nagging doubt creeps in. I’ve been under stress before, but this feels different. My body aches in unfamiliar ways, and fatigue clings to me like a second skin.
I drag myself out of bed and stumble to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face. The woman in the mirror looks pale and drawn, with dark circles under her eyes. I run through a mental checklist, trying to pinpoint what could be causing this.
Food poisoning? Unlikely. His chef is meticulous, and it’s been a few days since I ate the stroganoff, so I doubt it’s Valerian’s fault either.
Flu? Possible, but I don’t have a fever.
Stress? That’s what I’ve been telling myself, but...
A cold tendril of fear snakes down my spine as another possibility surfaces. I try to push it away, but it persists, demanding attention.
When was my last period?
I rack my brain, trying to remember. With everything that’s happened since I came to live with Valerian, I’ve lost track of time. Days blend together in a haze of tension and unexpected moments of connection. “No,” I whisper, gripping the edge of the sink. “It can’t be that.”
Yet the more I think about it, the more certain I become. I’m late. Very late.
I’ve skipped cycles before because of my PCOS, but this feels different. The nausea, the fatigue, the tender breasts I’ve been ignoring... “I have to know for sure,” I say to my reflection.
The decision made, I dress quickly in jeans and a loose sweater. I check the time. It’s 9:13 a.m. Valerian should be in his morning meeting by now.
I creep down the hallway, my mouth dry and palms damp. Every creak of the floorboards sounds like a gunshot in the quiet house. I pause at the top of the grand staircase, straining to hear any signs of movement.
Silence.
I descend the stairs as quietly as possible, wincing at each soft footfall. At the bottom, I hesitate. The back door is just a few yards away, but Valerian’s office is around the corner. If he catches me...
No. I can’t think about that now. I need answers.
I dash for the door, twisting the handle with trembling fingers. Cool air hits my face as I step outside, and I inhale deeply, trying to calm my nerves. Somehow, I manage to avoid the security presence on the grounds and wait at the gate until a laundry truck arrives. I use it for cover to sneak out and break into a run through the trees around the property before slowing once I feel like I’m far enough away to avoid being seen.
The walk to the drugstore feels like it takes hours, though it’s only a few blocks. My mind races with possibilities, each more terrifying than the last. What if I’m pregnant? What will Valerian say? What will I do?
The store’s automatic doors slide open with a cheerful ding that feels wildly out of place. I navigate the aisles in a daze, barely registering the other customers as I search for the pregnancy tests. When I find them, I study all the boxes. There are so many options. Digital, early detection, two-pack, three-pack... I grab three different brands, not trusting just one to give me the answer I need.
The cashier gives me a knowing look as she rings up my purchase. I avoid her gaze, fumbling with my wallet and nearly dropping my change in my haste to leave.
The walk back to the mansion is a blur. The paper bag feels like it weighs a ton, the tests inside burning a hole in my consciousness. I have to wait for the gate to open, which takes a good half-hour before a black SUV exits the estate, allowing me to slip inside before the gate fully closes. Then I creep back through the rear entrance, my ears straining for any sound that might indicate Valerian’s presence.
Nothing.
I race up the stairs, two at a time, and lock myself in my bathroom. The tests spill out onto the counter when I tear open the bag. I read the instructions carefully, not wanting to make any mistakes.
Three minutes. That’s how long I have to wait for each test.
I set the timer on my phone and pace the small space, chewing on my thumbnail. The seconds crawl by at an agonizing pace.
When the alarm finally chimes, I freeze. Do I really want to know? Can I handle the truth, whatever it may be?
Taking a deep breath, I force myself to look at the tests lined up on the counter.
Two pink lines.
A clear “Pregnant” in digital letters.
A plus sign.
The room spins, and I grip the edge of the sink to steady myself. Pregnant. I’m pregnant. “Oh, god,” I whisper, sinking to the floor. “What am I going to do?” Tears blur my vision as the situation crashes down on me. I’m carrying Valerian’s child—a dangerous criminal, who holds my future in his hands.
A sob escapes me, and I clap a hand over my mouth to muffle the sound. I can’t let anyone hear me until I figure out what to do.
I don’t know how long I sit there, my mind a whirlwind of fear and confusion. Eventually, I force myself to stand on shaky legs. I need to pull myself together before someone notices something’s wrong.
I gather the tests and their packaging, wrapping them in toilet paper before burying them deep in the bathroom trash. I splash water on my face, erasing the tear tracks, and take several deep breaths.
“You can do this, Claire,” I tell my reflection. “You’ll figure it out.”
As I stare at the woman in the mirror, I see the lie in my own eyes. I have no idea what I’m going to do. How can I tell Valerian? Should I tell him at all? The questions swirl in my mind, each one more daunting than the last.
I step out of the bathroom on unsteady feet, my world forever changed by three little plastic sticks hidden in the trash. My mind spins from the revelation. Pregnant. I touch my stomach, still flat and unchanged, yet housing a secret that threatens to upend everything.
My phone chimes with a text from Mom. “Can you come help at the shop this morning? We’re swamped with orders.”
Perfect. A distraction is exactly what I need right now. I text back a quick “ On my way ” before heading downstairs.
The kitchen is mercifully empty when I grab an apple I don’t really want and a bottle of water. I pause at the front door, listening for any sign of Valerian. Silence. He must still be in his office.
I slip out into the crisp morning air, inhaling deeply. The drive with Sergei and Ivan to Bloom House helps clear my head, though my hand keeps drifting to my abdomen. The cheerful bell above the door jingles when I enter the flower shop a while later. The scent of roses and lilies envelops me, which is a soothing familiarity.
“Claire, thank goodness you’re here.” Mom emerges from behind a towering arrangement of white roses. “We’ve got three weddings this weekend, and Mrs. Abernathy just called to add another centerpiece to her order.”
I hang up my coat and roll up my sleeves. “Put me to work.”
For the next few hours, I lose myself in the rhythm of arranging flowers, wrapping bouquets, and fielding phone calls. It’s almost enough to make me forget about the bombshell I’m carrying.
Almost.
“Earth to Claire?” Mom waves a hand in front of my face. “That’s the third time you’ve put baby’s breath in that arrangement. The bride specifically requested no baby’s breath.”
I blink, staring at the delicate white flowers in my hand. Baby’s breath. A hysterical laugh bubbles up in my throat, which I quickly swallow down. “Sorry, Mom. I guess I’m a little distracted today.”
She frowns, studying my face. “Are you feeling alright, sweetheart? You look a bit pale.”
“I’m fine,” I say, perhaps a little too quickly. “Just tired. It’s been a long week.”
Mom’s expression softens. “I know things have been difficult with Jay and...everything else.” She hesitates, clearly wanting to say more about my arrangement with Valerian but holding back. “Why don’t you take your lunch break? Get some fresh air.”
I nod gratefully, hanging up my apron. As I step outside, my phone buzzes with a text from Daphne, a massage client I’ve had for years.
“Any chance you’re free this afternoon? My back is killing me.”
I check the time. I could squeeze her in before heading back to Valerian’s. “Sure. 2 p.m. work for you?”
“Perfect. You’re a lifesaver!”
I grab a quick sandwich from the deli down the street, barely tasting it as I eat. My mind keeps drifting to the future, imagining scenarios of telling Valerian about the pregnancy. In some, he’s overjoyed. In others, furious. The uncertainty gnaws at me.
Before I know it, it’s time for Daphne’s appointment. I head to my small, rented space in a nearby wellness center, grateful for the familiar routine of setting up the massage table and warming the oil.
She arrives right on time, her usual cheery self. “You’re a sight for sore eyes...and a sore back.”
I smile, gesturing to the table. “Hop on up and let’s see what we can do about that.”
As I work on Daphne’s tense muscles, she chatters about her upcoming vacation and her daughter’s dance recital. I make the appropriate noises of interest, but my focus keeps slipping.
“Claire?” Her voice breaks through my thoughts. “Did you hear what I said?”
“I’m sorry, what?”
She props herself up on her elbows, twisting to look at me. “I asked if you were feeling okay. You seem off today.”
I force a smile. “Just a little tired. Nothing to worry about.”
Sarah doesn’t look convinced, but she lies back down. “If you say so. I’m here if you need to talk.”
Her kindness nearly breaks me. For a moment, I consider spilling everything—the pregnancy, my fears, and the complicated situation with Valerian—but I hold back. It’s too soon, too raw, and we aren’t close enough. It’s a sudden and sharp reminder of the lack of close female friendships in my life. I’m usually fine with that, but what I wouldn’t give for a BFF in whom I can confide right now. “Thanks, Daphne. I appreciate that.”
The rest of the massage passes in relative silence. As she’s getting dressed, she pauses. “You know, my sister-in-law is a great therapist. If you ever want to talk to someone...”
I shake my head. “I’m fine, really, but thank you.”
After she leaves, I clean up the room on autopilot. My hand keeps drifting to my stomach, a gesture that’s quickly becoming a habit.
I see two more clients before my day ends. Sergei and Ivan are waiting for me, and the drive to the mansion is mostly silent, since I’m lost in thoughts, and neither of my guards are particularly loquacious.
As we approach the imposing gates, a wave of nausea hits me. Morning sickness, or just nerves? I inhale and exhale to prepare myself for whatever comes next.
The house is quiet when I enter from the garage a few minutes later. I make my way to the kitchen, craving something to settle my stomach. As I rummage through the fridge, a deep voice behind me makes me jump.
“There you are.”
I whirl around to find Valerian leaning against the doorframe. My heart races, and I instinctively press a hand to my abdomen before quickly dropping it. “I didn’t hear you come in,” I say, aiming for casual and missing by a mile.
His gaze narrows, taking in my flustered state. “Are you alright? You look...upset.”
For a moment, I consider telling him everything right then and there. The words rise in my throat, but I swallow them back down. Not yet. Not until I’m sure what I want to do. I can’t let him steamroll me into a decision when the topic is so important. “I’m fine,” I lie, forcing a smile. “Just a long day at the flower shop and with clients.”
Valerian studies me for a long moment, and I fight the urge to squirm under his scrutiny. Finally, he nods. “Get some rest. We’ll skip tonight’s massage.”
As he turns to leave, I ask, “Are you sure?”
He pauses, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “I’m sure. Take care of yourself so I don’t have to worry.”
With that, he’s gone, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the tiny secret growing inside me. I lean against the counter, my hand once again finding its way to my stomach.
“What am I going to do?” I whisper to the empty kitchen.
The silence offers no answers.