39. CHAPTER 36 #2
After that delightful afternoon in hell, I went to my parents’ house.
If anywhere could anchor me, it was home. Or what used to be home.
The place where I used to at least be a version of myself I could recognise.
I was halfway down the corridor to my old room when raised voices stopped me. My brothers. Of course.
“—you’re only on his side because he lets you in on business,” Laurent snarled.
“I’m not on anyone’s side,” Blaise shot back immediately. “I’m trying to make sure this family doesn’t implode.”
I stepped into the doorway. “What’s going on?”
Laurent turned, his eyes already lit with anger and the usual venom. “Busy body, as expected you’re here to defend your vile husband.”
I flinched. Then straightened my spine. “Mind what you say.”
“Oh, did that sting?” He smiled around his cigarette as he lit it. “You walk around like you have the world under your feet now. All because your husband thinks he’s lord over everyone.”
Blaise yanked the cigarette from his mouth and crushed it in an ashtray. “Can you just behave?”
“What? I can’t smoke in my own house?” Laurent scoffed. “This is the Fernández mansion, not the Kade estate.”
“Can you not set the curtains on fire while you spiral? You can take the smoke outside if you’re so desperate for it.” I muttered. My nerves were already shot; I had no patience for his dramatics.
He looked at me, head tilted, as if he'd just noticed a weak spot. “I can smoke wherever I like.” His eyes moved from my stomach back to my face. “Well… unless you're pregnant,” he added, a wicked grin cutting across his face. “Then I suppose we all have to be more careful.”
I frowned but didn’t dispute it. There was no point arguing with Laurent when he was like this.
“If she’s pregnant,” Laurent went on, his voice dropping into a mocking conspiratorial whisper as he turned to Blaise, “then we’re thoroughly fucked.”
“Laurent,” I warned, the air in the room suddenly feeling thin. “What exactly do you mean by that?”
He laughed. A low, mean sound. “Oh, you still don’t know?”
He glanced at Blaise, who looked like he was about to vomit. “You’ve been busy playing Saint Blaise, but you didn’t think to tell her once?” His tongue dragging across his teeth, amused. “What a bad brother you’ve been, Blaise. Keeping her in the dark while her husband measures the drapes.”
Blaise’s brow furrowed like he couldn’t decide if to strangle Laurent or just outright kill him.
“Tell me what?” I demanded, ignoring the heat building between them.
Blaise’s jaw ticked. “Laurent. Stop.”
Laurent ignored Blaise, leaning in, the smell of stale tobacco reeking off him.
“If you must know, dear sister… the alliance contract has a clause.” He spoke the word like a toast. “Once you produce an heir for the crown prince, the Kades don't just merge with us, they absorb us. Your Orion becomes the head of the Fernández-Moreaux businesses as a placeholder till whatever little devil you birth grows up to take the reins.”
The blood roared in my ears.
He smiled wider. “All he needs from you is an heir. You’re useless if you can’t give him one.”
Blaise gave him a hard shove in an attempt to get him to shut up, but knowing Laurent, that fueled his spite.
“He doesn't need a partner,” Laurent sneered, his eyes bright with malice. “He needs a legacy. You’re a chess move, sister. A womb with a prestigious lineage. Once you’re occupied pushing out his babies, he’ll be busy winning over his board, and ours too.”
“Laurent, shut up!” Blaise snapped, shoving him harder toward the door, but the damage was already echoing through my skull.
“Look at her face!” Laurent laughed hard. “She thinks he cares. It’s adorable. He’s not capable of love, Léonie. He’s cold, and deadly. Everyone knows this. You’re just foolish enough to fall for whatever lies he’s feeding you.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“T'as pété un plomb?” Blaise hissed, his face inches from Laurent’s mocking grin.
Laurent shrugged, straightening his shirt with a bloody smirk. “Il fallait bien qu’elle sache la vérité, mon frère. On ne peut pas vivre dans un mensonge éternellement.”
They argued as my mind raced, pieces of the last few months clicking together with a sickening clack.
I thought of Mrs. Lewis’s kindness. She always knew exactly when my cycle was due, placing hot water bottles in my bed before I even felt the first cramp.
Also keeping the bathroom stocked with my preferred tampons, even before I noticed I was running low.
I’d thought it was care. That she was being motherly.
Now I realised she was only being a bookkeeper. And just like everything else, if Mrs. Lewis knew, Orion knew too. He liked to collect data and logistics and all the intricate details of everything. I’ve learnt that much from the last six months of living with him.
I thought of all the time he’d looked at me with that intense, searching gaze. Was he looking for a soulmate, or was he just checking the progress of his investment?
A womb with a prestigious lineage.
I vaguely heard Blaise’s voice pulling me back to the room as he pushed Laurent toward the door. “Get out. You’re upsetting her.”
“What type of brother would I be if I hoarded the truth?” Laurent laughed, finally letting himself be shoved. “Better now than when she’s… actually pregnant, hmm?”
The door slammed. Silence rushed back in, but it wasn't quiet. It was screaming.
Blaise turned to me immediately, his hands up like I was a feral animal he didn’t want to spook. “Léo, don’t listen to him. He likes to twist things, you know that. The clause is…complicated. It’s not—”
“Is he lying?” I asked. My voice sounded hollow, as though it was coming from the bottom of a well.
Blaise hesitated. Just for a heartbeat.
In the world of the Fernández, a heartbeat of hesitation was a confession.
“I have to go,” I whispered.
“Léo—”
I stopped hearing him. I didn’t want to listen to any explanations, or half-apologies. I moved through the world unconsciously—car, driver, gates, front door, until I was in the sanctuary of my room.
I collapsed onto the bed and cried until my lungs hurt. These weren't the dignified tears of a heiress; they were ugly, shaking sobs that tore at my throat. I buried my face in my pillow, but I could still smell him everywhere. His scent now felt like a physical assault.