14. Zara
ZARA
T he sunlight streaming through the curtains did nothing to ease the storm churning inside me. The moment my eyes opened, nausea hit like clockwork. I bolted out of bed, barely making it to the bathroom before I collapsed onto the cold tile floor, my stomach twisting violently.
I gripped the porcelain rim of the toilet, dry heaving until my throat felt raw. My entire body trembled as I leaned back, the cool tiles against my skin grounding me, as I tried to catch my breath. This had become my new routine, waking up every day to the same relentless punishment.
For a long moment, I just sat there, my back against the wall and my arms wrapped around my knees. My eyes stung with unshed tears, but I refused to let them fall. Crying wouldn’t solve anything. It wouldn’t change the reality I’d been avoiding for weeks now.
After rinsing my mouth and splashing cold water on my face, I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. My skin had lost its usual glow, my freckles standing out starkly against the dullness. Dark circles shadowed my eyes and my curls hung limp around my shoulders. I barely recognized myself.
The sound of footsteps outside the bathroom made my heart leap into my throat. I stood frozen, gripping the edge of the sink, as the door creaked open. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.
“Zara.” Sterling’s voice was low, almost calm, but there was an edge to it that sent a chill down my spine.
I turned slowly, forcing myself to meet his gaze.
He was leaning against the doorframe, his broad shoulders filling the space.
His white shirt was crisp and perfectly tailored, but the faint smudges of red on his cuffs betrayed the violent night he’d had.
His dark eyes locked onto mine, and I could feel the weight of his scrutiny.
“You look like hell, little hummingbird,” he said, his tone casual, but I didn’t miss the sharpness beneath it.
“Thanks,” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest. “Just what every girl wants to hear first thing in the morning.”
Sterling’s lips curved into a smirk, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’ve been sick every morning for weeks now. Care to explain?”
My stomach twisted, and not from the nausea this time. “It’s just a stomach bug,” I said quickly, avoiding his gaze.
“You’re lying.” He straightened, stepping into the room, and closing the door behind him. The soft click of the latch felt final, like a judge’s gavel sealing my fate.
“I’m not,” I said, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to sound firm.
Sterling moved closer, his presence overwhelming, as he loomed over me. “Don’t insult me, little hummingbird. I know something’s wrong. The question is, why are you hiding it from me?”
I swallowed hard, my pulse racing, as I tried to think of a way out. But Sterling was like a predator, and I was the prey caught in his sights. There was no escaping him.
“I’m not hiding anything,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
His jaw tightened and he reached out, gripping my chin and forcing me to look up at him. His touch was firm, but not cruel, his fingers warm against my skin. “Don’t lie to me,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I’ll find out the truth.”
Tears pricked my eyes, and I blinked rapidly, refusing to let them fall. “Why do you care?” I whispered. “Why does it matter to you?”
“Because you’re under my roof,” he said, his eyes boring into mine. “That makes you my responsibility.”
I flinched at his words, the possessiveness in his tone making my stomach churn. “I don’t need you to take care of me,” I said, pulling away from his grip.
Sterling’s expression darkened, his jaw clenching as he took a step back. “Clearly, you do. You look exhausted, you’re not eating, and you’re throwing up every morning. That doesn’t sound fine to me.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but the look on his face stopped me. Sterling wasn’t asking. He was telling.
“We’re going to the doctor,” he said, his tone leaving no room for debate.
“No,” I said quickly, panic bubbling up inside me. “I don’t need a doctor. It’s just a stomach bug. It’ll pass.”
Sterling raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk that sent a chill down my spine. "You have two choices, little hummingbird. Either I handle this, or our parents do. Pick one."
Before I could protest further, he pulled out his phone and started barking orders. My heart sank as I realized there was no way out of this.
The drive to the clinic was tense, the silence between us heavy with unspoken words. Sterling’s presence was suffocating, his dark energy filling the car like a tangible force.
When we arrived, the receptionist ushered us into a private room, without so much as a second glance. Sterling’s reputation was clearly enough to open doors and silence questions.
The doctor, a black man in his early forties, stepped into the room, clipboard in hand. “Dr. Lazarus. You can call me Dr. Laz,” he said with a nod, then looked at Sterling. “I understand you’re concerned.”
“She’s been sick every morning for weeks. I want answers,” Sterling said.
Dr. Laz turned to me. “Do you want to be here, Zara?”
Sterling stiffened beside me. “She wants to be here.”
The doctor didn’t flinch. “Let’s get the basics handled.” He tapped the folder. “According to your intake paperwork, you’ve been sick a ton, and can’t remember the last time you had your period. It’s my opinion that you are pregnant, but I’ll want to test to confirm.”
Everything in me went still.
"Oh my goodness, pregnant?" My breath caught, horror lacing my voice.
Sterling’s jaw clenched. “She is under the impression that she had the flu. I, however, never doubted my seed, which is why we are here. So, do your job and tell me something I don’t know, hmm?” He glared at the doctor.
The word detonated between us. I could feel a change happening, but wasn’t sure what exactly it was.
Sterling turned toward me, eyes burning. “Who, Zara?” His voice was low, dangerous. “Tell the doctor who did this to you?”
My breath hitched, not wanting to say his claim out loud. As if he didn’t know. “You. This is your fault.”
His eyebrows lifted in surprise, then his expression darkened, mouth twitching with something tight and unreadable. “Mine?” he said, voice sharp with something like triumph. “Are you saying I’m going to be a father?”
Panic spiked. I wasn’t ready to let him have that. To let him win.
“No,” I whispered.
The lie fell like a stone.
Sterling’s gaze sharpened into something lethal. “Chadwick?” he echoed. “Zara, if you’re lying to me…”
His hand drifted toward his waistband.
“I-I don’t know,” I said, arms wrapped tight around myself. “I don’t know.”
Dr. Laz stepped in firmly. “Put the gun away. An ultrasound can determine the timeline without threats.”
Sterling didn’t move. “Do it now. Or I’ll find out my own way.”
Dr. Laz sighed. “Fine. Let’s get started.”
He motioned for me to lie back, and my limbs felt like lead as I settled onto the exam table. My breath hitched while he snapped on gloves, unwrapped a sterile sleeve, and coated a slender transvaginal wand with gel, the chill making me shiver.
Sterling hovered beside me, his presence suffocating, but I couldn’t bring myself to meet his gaze.
Dr. Laz eased the probe inside, angling it with practiced precision.
The machine beeped, a grainy image blooming on the monitor.
“There,” he murmured, adjusting the depth. “That’s the fetus.”
I swallowed hard, fingers whitening on the table’s edge. The speck on-screen looked unreal, yet the faint flicker pulsing in its center proved otherwise.
Sterling inhaled sharply. “That’s-” His voice fractured, something raw slipping through. “How far along?”
Dr. Laz shifted his gaze to me before answering. “Based on crown to rump length, about six weeks.”
Six weeks. That meant the first time Sterling touched me, cornered me, was the only time it could’ve happened. We hadn’t stopped since. But that first time? That one broke something. I’d never told him no. I hadn’t said yes either. And silence? Silence was compliance in this world.
Sterling’s body tensed beside me. “And that means?”
Dr. Laz looked between us, exhaling. The thin scar slicing from temple to cheek tugged as he spoke, unreadable.
“Before I say anything definitively, Zara, when was the last time you were with each of these men? Be honest. The ultrasound will confirm everything.”
Sterling’s stare burned through me. My throat tightened, panic clawing up.
“I don’t know… it was a while ago with Chadwick,” I rasped. “But with Sterling…” I swallowed, nails digging into vinyl. “The first time was a little over a month ago. I think. And since then-” Heat flooded my face. “We’ve... we’ve been together a lot.”
Dr. Laz simply turned back, fine-tuning the measurement box. “Given what you’ve told me, and what I’m seeing, you’re six weeks along. Which means the father,” he faced Sterling, voice flat, “is you.”
Sterling’s lips curved, not in surprise but in something darker. “Of course it’s me. Did you really think I didn’t know?” His gaze cut to me, sharp and deliberate. “I wanted to hear you say it, Zara. To watch you squirm. To see if you’d run or lie.”
Air left my lungs in a silent gasp. Sterling looked at me, eyes dark with possession, satisfaction, triumph.
And I? I had nowhere left to run.