Chapter 81
Eighty-Two
Lisa
The next morning, Franklin waited by the front door while I came down the stairs.
My legs felt heavy arid my head was dull, like I had slept too long. I kept telling myself it was too early for symptoms, but every small ache made me pause and wonder if it was real.
Halfway down the stairs, Nadia leaned against the railing. One heel dangled off her foot. Her hair was tangled at the ends, like she had slept in it. She held a glass, and it was not even noon.
Her eyes moved from me to Franklin and back again.
“Well,” she said, her voice thick. “Is this the morning parade p>
Franklin did not react. “We’re heading out p>
“Of course you are.” She gave a short laugh that cut off quickly. “You two have been very busy lately p>
I froze on the last step.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
She stepped closer, her shoulder brushing the wall to steady herself. “Trying to pass a child off as Cameron’s p>
My hand went to my stomach before I could stop it. A wave of nausea rose in my throat when she said it, and I swallowed hard.
Franklin stepped in front of me. “That’s enough, Nadia p>
“Is it?” she shot back. “Or is this how we do things now? Borrow a womb and hope no one questions it p>
My hands clenched at my sides. “What are you talking about? It’s Cameron’s child p>
She rolled her eyes. “Convenient p>
Franklin’s tone hardened. “Nadia p>
She walked past us, the ice in her glass clinking as she went.
“You don’t get to accuse me because you’re angry,” I called after her.
“Whatever p>
If she was saying it drunk, others were thinking it sober.
In the car, I stared out the window.
“She’s such an angry person p>
“It’s how she deals with pain,” Franklin replied.
“And how does Cameron deal with it p>
“He shuts down. Or he keeps moving so he doesn’t have to feel p>
“Feel what p>
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Kanty Two
+15 Bonus
Franklin talked about their childhood. Small things at first. Then he mentioned camp.
“He was hurt there, by someone he trusted,” Franklin said.
“Someone he trusted p>
I gripped the seatbelt strap and looked down at my hands.
“How old was he p>
“Old enough to think he could handle it. Young enough not to understand what was being done to him p>
“And no one knew p>
“Not then p>
My heart broke for him.
I tried to picture him as a boy in uniform and failed.
“Don’t repeat that to him,” Franklin added. “I never said it p>
“I won’t p>
Becoming Alpha doesn’t erase what happened to him. It stays. In habits. In silence. In the way he shuts down.
Would my child inherit his strength or his silence?
After a moment, I asked, “Cameron’s stepmom never accepted him fully, right p>
Franklin nodded.
“Do you think Evangeline will accept this child p>
“If she wants her position, she will p>
“That’s not the same as loving it p>
“No,” he admitted.
Silence filled the car.
“Cameron will protect his child,” Franklin said. “And if you ever tried to leave with the baby, he would find you p>
That was not comforting.
At the hospital, the tests were more thorough this time. Cold gel pressed against my stomach while I lay still under bright light.
The screen flickered.
“There,” the technician said. “It’s early, but yes. You’re pregnant.
Hearing it from a nurse made it real.
Pregnant.
Franklin stood near the door. When we stepped into the hallway, he gave a small nod.
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+158gnus
“Congratulations,” he said. “Now no one can question it p>
On the way out, Franklin said, “Cameron thinks your mother should stay with us for a while p>
“She won’t want that,” I said.
“You could ask p>
My mother was sitting up in bed when I walked in. The bandage over her eye made her look smaller, but she held her back straight.
“It’s confirmed,” I said.
She was quiet for a moment. Then she reached toward me and missed slightly before her hand found my cheek.
“Are you ready for this?” she asked softly. “To carry a child and then hand it over p>
The question stayed between us.
“It’s a contract,” I said. “I can’t break it p>
“I know.” She smoothed the hospital blanket over her lap again and again. “That doesn’t mean it won’t hurt.” 1
I told her about Cameron’s offer.
“They’re not my people,” she said. “They’re yours for now. I want to go home p>
She kept smoothing the blanket like it needed fixing. She did not want to start over somewhere new.
James spoke up from the chair near the window.
“Maybe we could stay for a month or two,” he said. “School holidays are long p>
My mother stared at her hands.
On the drive back home, I kept thinking about her. She had given thirty years to one man. Now even the idea of starting over made her quiet.
I was doing the same thing. Pretending this was business. Pretending my body was a rented space.
I pressed my hand against my stomach.
Carry the baby. Deliver. Leave.
I wondered if I was capable of that
P
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Cedella
Cedella is a passionate storyteller known for her bold romantic and spicy novels that keep readers hooked from the very first chapter. With a flair for crafting emotionally intense plots and unforgettable characters, she blends love, desire, and drama into every story she writes. Cedella’s storytelling style is immersive and addictive—perfect for fans of heated romances and heart-pounding twists.