22. Zara
ZARA
T he morning air was a mixture of salt and summer, a reminder of the proximity to the coast, even though the looming walls of the Kingsley estate made the ocean seem like a distant dream. But today felt different.
For the first time in weeks, I woke up without nausea clawing at my stomach.
The realization made me pause as I sat on the edge of the bed, one hand pressing over the pronounced curve of my belly.
Relief. The subtle roundness had given way to something undeniable, I was showing more now, my body fully embracing the changes of pregnancy.
My uniform barely fit anymore, and there was no way I could pretend that nothing had changed.
Despite everything, I smiled, smoothing my hand over my stomach. The discomfort had faded, and for the first time, I felt good. Light. Maybe today would be different.
I stretched before making my way to the bathroom, unwrapping my waist-length, thick curls from my bonnet. My coily hair needed care, so I worked leave-in conditioner through the coils, twisting and pinning sections into an elegant updo, leaving a few defined curls framing my face.
After showering and doing my hair, I sat at the edge of the bed, winded, and looked over at the violin case.
It hadn’t moved since Sterling gave it to me, at least, not in any way I could prove.
But every few mornings, I’d find the latch slightly ajar, the bow nudged just off center, the faintest trace of dust wiped from the chin rest. Like it was waiting.
Like he’d been here. Touching it. Touching me. Without ever being seen.
I hadn’t touched it. But a small part of me wanted to. Something about its presence soothed me. Like it was watching. Waiting. My fingers hovered over the latch, just for a second, then I pulled back. Not today.
But maybe soon.
I walked away from the devilish temptation to get dressed inside the walk-in.
After slipping into my Saint Bipal University uniform, I took a final glance in the closet mirror. The blazer strained, the pleated skirt sat high over my hips. It wasn’t ideal, but it would do for now.
By the time I made it to the kitchen, the smell of coffee, eggs, and toasted bread filled the air. Sterling was already there, seated at the counter, a cup of coffee in hand, his phone in the other.
“Morning,” I said, and for once, I meant it.
His gaze flicked up, scanning me from head to toe. His expression darkened, as his eyes lingered on my blouse, stretched over my belly.
“Fuck, you need a new uniform,” he said, voice firm. “Something that fits. Something that doesn’t give men a reason to look at you.”
I blinked, caught off guard. “Excuse me?”
Sterling reached for his phone again, already typing out a message. “I’ll have something custom-made. Something that covers you properly.”
I scoffed. “I don’t need you dressing me, Sterling.”
His gaze locked onto mine. “You think I don’t notice the way men look at you? The way their eyes linger where they shouldn’t?”
My pulse jumped. His tone wasn’t just protective, it was possessive.
“It’s a school uniform,” I said, exasperated. “Everyone wears the same thing.”
His smirk was slow, deliberate. “And yet, none of them are my wife, walking around glowing.”
I rolled my eyes, taking a seat across from him. “I’m not. I just finally had a morning without throwing up.”
“Sounds like an improvement,” he said, his voice laced with something unreadable.
“It is,” I admitted, pouring myself some tea instead of coffee. “I actually feel good today.”
Sterling set his phone down, giving me his full attention. “Good enough to eat?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Good enough to eat without you forcing it.”
He smirked, but said nothing, as he slid a plate of food in front of me. I sighed, picking up my fork, feeling his gaze on me as I ate. There was a rare ease in the air between us, a moment where it felt less like a battlefield, and more like… something else.
Then, the sound of heels clicking against the marble floor shattered the peace.
“I see the newlyweds are finally acting like a married couple,” my stepmother’s sharp voice cut through the air, followed by my father’s deep chuckle. There was an unmistakable edge of disgust in her tone, like our relationship was an abomination in her eyes.
I didn’t need to guess how they found out.
The looks on their faces said enough. My father’s stare was one of quiet calculation, measuring the damage to his reputation, while my stepmother’s disgust practically radiated from her.
They hadn’t learned about this from me. No, this kind of fury came from being blindsided, and I could only assume they had heard it from the board, the same people who tried to control Sterling, and now wanted to remind him that he wasn’t untouchable.
A cold weight settled in my stomach. Now that they knew, what would they do?
They wouldn’t let this go, not when their reputations were on the line.
My father was always careful about appearances, about maintaining his power, and influence.
My stepmother? She would rather see me suffer, than allow me to have anything that made me look important.
I could feel the walls closing in around me, the tightening grip of expectations, of manipulation, of their never-ending disapproval. Was this just the beginning? Would they try to undo this marriage? Would they try to separate me from Sterling, from my baby?
My father’s eyes flicked over me, assessing, calculating, his disappointment barely masked by the smug way he leaned against the doorway.
My stepmother, however, wasn’t trying to hide her disdain.
I swallowed hard, suddenly aware that this was no longer just about their disappointment.
This was about control. And I had just become the pawn in a much bigger game.
"It must be convenient for you," she continued, her eyes lingering on my stomach. "Securing yourself in a position you were never meant to have. A gold digger playing wife."
My fingers clenched around my fork, appetite vanishing. My gaze flickered toward Sterling, but he hadn’t moved beyond the slight tightening of his jaw.
"I assume you’ve come here for something," Sterling said, finally breaking the tension, his voice smooth and unreadable. "Or did you just come to ruin breakfast?"
My father took a seat at the table, uninvited, reaching for the coffee pot, with a calm that made my stomach turn. "We need to talk about this arrangement you've made."
Sterling didn’t blink. "It’s not an arrangement. It’s a marriage."
My stepmother scoffed. "Marriage? Do you have any idea what the board has been saying? The damage this does to our family name?"
Sterling leaned back, stretching one arm over the backrest. "The board doesn’t control me. They answer to me. And as for The Kingsley Family Trust name? Securing an heir does more for it than your disapproval."
My father sighed, rubbing his temples. "You’re playing a dangerous game."
Sterling’s voice turned razor-sharp. "I don’t play games. I make decisions. You’re here because the board ran to you, whining about things they don’t have the power to change. Nothing about Zara and me is going to change."
My stepmother’s gaze flicked to my stomach. "She traps you with a baby, and now you expect us all to fall in line?"
Sterling stood smoothly, his presence suffocating. "Watch your mouth," he said, his voice dangerously quiet. "If you think, for one second, I won’t burn everything down to protect what’s mine, you’re mistaken."
My father exhaled. "You’re making this harder than it needs to be."
"I’m making it exactly what it needs to be," Sterling countered. "And if you don’t like it, you know where the door is."
I stood. "I need to get to class."
Sterling’s eyes flicked toward me. "I’ll have Frankie take you."
I nodded, eager to escape.
After a tense breakfast, and a silent car ride, I stepped onto campus, relieved to be away.
The shift in atmosphere was immediate, the towering walls of the Kingsley estate had been replaced by the sprawling campus of Saint Bipal University.
Alive with the buzz of students moving between classes, voices blending into the background hum of normalcy.
For the first time in a long time, I felt like I could breathe.
Adjusting my bag over my shoulder, I made my way toward the student lounge, deciding to kill some time before my first lecture.
The familiar space was already filling with students, some hunched over textbooks, others chatting over overpriced coffee.
I grabbed a seat by the window, letting the sunlight warm my skin, as I pulled out my planner.
Between classes, doctor’s appointments, and the ever-looming presence of Sterling in my life, my schedule felt impossible to keep up with.
Still, I needed to pretend I had some semblance of control.
I ran my fingers over the chain around my neck, Sterling’s ring hanging just beneath the collar of my blouse. I should’ve tucked it away, but some rebellious part of me liked feeling it there, a tangible reminder of how much my life had changed.
The feeling of eyes on me made me glance up, but I saw nothing out of the ordinary. Just students caught in their own lives. Still, a prickle of unease slid down my spine. Had someone been watching me?
Shaking the thought away, I gathered my things and made my way toward my next class. The hallways were crowded, students moving past in waves, their conversations blending into one another. I was nearly at the lecture hall, when a sharp yank at my neck sent me stumbling backward.
Chadwick.
Before I could react, he yanked the chain, snapping it from my neck with a force that made me trip slightly.
The Kingsley family ring disappeared into his pocket, before I could even process what had happened.
My breath hitched, as shock flooded through me.
This was a decent sized campus, how did he find me?
Was he stalking me?