Chapter 36 Olivia
Olivia
Emily’s legs buckled, and she collapsed onto the rug.
Mathias shot to his feet.
“Let’s get her upstairs.” He scooped Emily into his arms with ease. “The servants are gone for the day—I dismissed them early—but there’s still a maid around here somewhere.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks as an unwelcome memory surfaced—Mathias, hips thrusting between that young woman’s legs. I swallowed hard. “You go find her.”
I had no desire to meet the maid’s gaze—not after seeing her bare body intertwined with his.
“I was close to someone once—a midwife,” I murmured, forcing myself to focus. “She taught me a few things. I’ll try to remember what I can.” My heart clenched at the thought of Amara.
Emily let out an anguished cry, her fingers digging into my arm. “It hurts, Olivia! God, it hurts.”
“I know, I know,” I soothed. “But we need to get you upstairs.”
The contractions came fast and relentless, forcing us to stop every few steps as she doubled over in pain. By the time we reached the bedchamber, she was trembling, breathless.
The young maid was already at work, the same one I had caught with Count Montego. She moved quietly, stripping the bed of fine linens and replacing them with thick wool coverings.
She glanced up and offered a slight nod. “Madam, allow me to introduce myself. I am Anne Geneviève.”
“Olivia,” I said curtly.
She hesitated before continuing, her tone oddly sincere. “I apologize for earlier, Olivia. The count has been my lover for some time. We did not expect to be interrupted.”
I nearly clapped my hands over my ears and muttered, La, la, la. This was far too much information.
Anne smoothed the blankets and straightened. “Count Montego has gone for help.”
My stomach twisted. “Oh, dear. In this storm?”
I glanced out the window at the darkening sky. Snow and ice lashed against the glass, the storm unrelenting.
“He will be safe,” Anne Geneviève said with conviction.
I wish I shared her certainty. But there was no time to dwell on it. I turned back to Emily. “We need to get her undressed and into bed. Can you help me?”
“Bien s?r,” she said.
Together, we eased Emily onto the thick wool, stripping away the layers of clothing that clung to her sweat-dampened skin. Another contraction seized her, turning her stomach rock-hard. She let out a ragged cry.
“Breathe, Emily. Like this.” I inhaled deeply, demonstrating the steady rhythm she needed to follow.
She sucked in a breath and exhaled.
“Better,” she wheezed, though tears shimmered in her eyes.
Anne Geneviève turned to me, producing a spool of fine silk thread. “I brought this to sew up any torn skin after the baby arrives.”
My eyebrows lifted. “How do you know these things?”
“My mother—she is a midwife.”
Relief bloomed in my chest. At least one of us knew what they were doing.
But then, she pulled out a small brownish stone encased in a crude silver setting and tied it to Emily’s thigh.
I frowned. “What is that?”
“An eaglestone,” she said. “Meant to hasten the birth.”
I nearly rolled my eyes as another brutal contraction ripped through Emily. A little late for that.
Anne Geneviève bit off the excess thread attached to the stone, then took Emily’s hand, guiding her through another round of deep, measured breaths.
Emily tried to follow, but then she let out a wrenching howl.
“It hurts, Olivia!” she screamed.
“I know, Emily. I know.” I smoothed damp hair from her face, my heart aching at her pain.
Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I’m scared. Marcellious promised he’d be here for the birth.”
Her body shuddered, another contraction tearing through her.
Anne Geneviève’s expression tightened. “Spread your legs.”
Emily obeyed, her breaths coming in panicked gasps. The maid crouched low, peering between her thighs.
“The baby—” her voice was urgent now. “It is almost here.”
I rushed to the maid’s vantage point, my breath hitching at the sight before me—a head crowning into the world. A rush of exhilaration flooded my chest.
“Emily! She’s right. You have to push now.”
Emily let out a scream so raw and powerful that I swore the very walls shook. Then came a deep, guttural groan, shaking her entire body.
The baby’s head inched forward.
More cries, more agonized moans—until, with one final push, the newborn slid into my waiting arms.
Tears spilled down my cheeks. I could barely speak through my joy. “It’s a boy, Emily! You have a son.”
I placed the squirming infant on Emily’s belly, his tiny body warm and perfect.
Anne Geneviève and I worked together quickly, snipping the cord, sewing the small tear between Emily’s legs, and cleaning up the room. Once everything was in order, Anne Geneviève gathered the soiled linens and quietly slipped away, leaving us alone.
I sank beside Emily, my gaze fixed on the tiny miracle in her arms. Already, he was nuzzling against her, seeking nourishment.
Tears gleamed in Emily’s eyes as she stroked his delicate head. “Almost a year ago, we were running from that demon, searching for Malik in another world…” Her voice trembled. “And now I’m here, in a castle, with my son at my breast.”
I squeezed her shoulder, my own throat thick with emotion. “Isn’t it a miracle?”
She wiped at her tears, laughing softly. “I can’t believe Marcellious was right about the gender.”
“Oh, he’ll probably gloat about it for years,” I teased, chuckling as I reached out to run a gentle hand over the baby’s back. “He’s beautiful, Emily. Absolutely perfect. What will you name him?”
Emily gazed down at her son with such tenderness that it nearly broke me. “Marcellious wanted to honor his father, Moon Lee. We’re naming him Leo.”
A warmth spread through my chest, as if the very name carried a blessing. “Oh, Emily. That’s perfect. Moon Lee would be so honored.”
Her tears returned, but this time, they were laced with joy. She blinked them away and whispered, “I’m so happy, Olivia. I wish Marcellious were here to see him.”
I cupped her hand in mine, feeling the weight of that absence. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”
For a long moment, we sat there, basking in the afterglow of birth, in the quiet wonder of new life.
I brushed the dampness from my cheeks and stepped toward the door. “I’m going to get some fresh linens.”
Emily smiled down at her son, stroking his tiny head.
I had barely reached the stairs when a blood-curdling scream tore through the corridor.
My heart lurched.
I spun on my heel and sprinted back down the hall, my pulse hammering in my ears. Bursting into the room, I skidded to a halt, my breath catching in my throat.
Balthazar and Tristan stood beside Emily.
Emily clutched Leo to her chest, her face drained of color, her eyes wide with terror.
“Get out of here!” I roared, fury erupting from me like wildfire. “Leave us be!”
Tristan’s head snapped toward me, a taunting smirk curling his lips. “Ah, my sweet little girlfriend. How lovely it is to see you again.”
I saw red. “Get. Out.” My voice reverberated with pure rage. “This isn’t another one of your twisted games, Tristan! You don’t get to barge in and make our lives hell!”
I jabbed a shaking finger at him, my entire body quivering.
Emily’s breath came in short, frantic bursts. She was on the edge of hyperventilating.
Balthazar’s gaze shifted to me, dark amusement glinting in his eyes. “Relax, Olivia. We’re only here for a short time. I’ll be taking my daughter and grandson with me.”
He reached for Emily.
“No!” Emily shrieked, shielding Leo with her arms.
A cold wave of shock slammed into me. “What did you just say?”
Balthazar’s lips curled into a cruel leer. “You heard me. Emily is my daughter.”
A sickening silence fell over the room.
I stared at him, my skin crawling with dread. “That’s not possible.”
“Oh, but it is.” His voice dripped with satisfaction. “Ask Marcellious.”
Emily let out a strangled sob, her entire body quaking. “No. No, no, no! Say it isn’t true!” Tears poured down her face, her voice breaking with sheer anguish. “I’m the spawn of this—this thing? And Marcellious knew?”
I lunged at Balthazar, my fingers clamping around his arm. “Emily is not your daughter, you bastard! Stop tormenting her!”
Balthazar chuckled, effortlessly shaking me off.
“Oh, Olivia. Always so dramatic.” His expression turned vicious.
“Alina gave birth to her. That’s the missing piece from the journal.
” He sneered, eyes gleaming with wicked delight.
“She was with Philip at the time. But should I read it? So that you know I’m telling the truth? ”
A sheen of cold sweat broke across my skin.
My mother. Had Balthazar’s child?
“No.” My voice came out hoarse, but I forced my body to move, to fight against the paralyzing terror. “You’re lying.” My jaw clenched, my nails biting into my palms. “That’s what you do, Balthazar. You lie. You manipulate.”
His smirk deepened.
And for the first time, I was afraid he wasn’t lying at all.
Balthazar slipped a hand into his coat pocket and withdrew a few sheets of paper—the exact size of the pages from Alina’s diary. His smirk widened as he extended them toward me.
“Here you go. Here’s your proof.”
Dread coiled in my stomach as I took the pages. My breath felt thin, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I forced myself to read aloud. “I have been keeping a dark secret. I’m pregnant with Balthazar’s child. I’ve fooled Philip into thinking it’s his, but it is indeed the seed of my true love.”
The words twisted like a dagger in my chest. My hands clenched, and without thinking, I flung the papers away, sending them fluttering to the floor like fallen leaves.
“My mother’s a fucking bitch!” The words tore from me in a guttural snarl. Rage and betrayal clawed at my throat. “How could she? I’d nearly forgiven her—but now this?”
“No,” Emily wailed, her face a mask of horror. “I can’t be your daughter. That makes me a monster, too!”