Their banter usually makes me smile, but today it just makes my chest ache. They’re so normal. So comfortable with each other. So utterly unprepared for the way I’m about to destroy everything.
Staff brings out breakfast. Scrambled eggs. Bacon. Toast. Fresh fruit.
The bacon smell combines with the coffee, and my stomach rebels violently.
I grab my water glass and take a long drink, trying to settle the nausea through sheer force of will. Everyone is talking about their plans for the day. Grant has calls. Donovan needs to review contracts. Kai mentions something about checking on equipment at the main resort.
Normal conversation. Normal morning.
Except nothing is normal because I’m pregnant and hiding it and about to lose control of my body in front of all of them.
I take a bite of toast. Dry. Plain. Safe.
It sits in my stomach like a rock.
Grant is saying something about the Miami property when the nausea becomes impossible to ignore. My mouth floods with saliva. Sweat breaks out on my forehead.
I set down my fork carefully and try to breathe through it.
“Sam?” Kai’s voice seems far away. “You okay?”
“Fine.” The word comes out strangled. “Just need a second.”
But I don’t have a second because my stomach is heaving and I’m going to vomit right here at this table if I don’t move right now. I shove my chair back so hard it nearly tips over, and I run.
I barely make it to the hallway bathroom before I’m on my knees, throwing up everything in my stomach and then some. The violence of it surprises me. I didn’t know my body could do this. Didn’t know nausea could be this consuming.
When I finally stop, I’m shaking and crying and completely unable to pretend anymore.
The bathroom door opens.
Grant kneels beside me and pulls my hair back from my face even though there’s nothing left to throw up. He doesn’t say anything. Just reaches past me to flush the toilet and then helps me sit back against the wall.
He hands me a towel. Wets another one and presses it against my forehead. “How long?” he asks quietly.
“What?”
“How long have you known you’re pregnant?”
The question hangs in the air between us.
I could lie. Could claim I’m just sick. Could buy myself a few more hours or days before this conversation happens.
But I’m so tired of lying.
“Two days,” I whisper.
He nods slowly, processing. “And you didn’t tell us.”
“I couldn’t.” The tears are coming faster now. “I didn’t know how. I didn’t know what to say.”
“You say ‘I’m pregnant.’” His voice is gentle despite the words. “That’s all you had to say, Samantha.”
“But I can’t—I can’t be pregnant. I can’t do this.”
“Why not?”
Because I came here to destroy you. Because I’ve been lying since the moment I arrived. Because this baby is proof of my betrayal to everything I promised Robert and my mother and myself.
