I stand abruptly, dragging a hand across my mouth as I walk to the windows. The moonlight glows over the ocean—cold, distant, indifferent. I brace a hand against the glass, exhaling hard.
A child.
My child.
I thought that dream had died with the tiny heartbeat we lost three Christmases ago. The one we buried under sunset. The one that ended the last relationship I’ll ever let myself trust.
Yet now, impossibly, Kamiyah stands in my living room offering me everything I swore I’d never want again—and everything I’ve secretly wanted more than anything.
And I don’t trust it.
I don’t trust her.
I turn slowly. She’s still on the couch, arms wrapped around herself, watching me with an expression that’s far too vulnerable. Far too real.
Her scent lingers in the air—warm and impossible to ignore. And suddenly I hate how much I want it to stay. To cling to the cushions. To haunt me long after she leaves.
“Kamiyah,” I say sharply, “do you understand what you’re asking?”
“Yes.” Her voice is soft but unwavering.
“You’re asking to tie yourself to me publicly. To become a target. To be scrutinized. To have your every move dissected.”
“Yes.”
“You’re asking me to father your child.” I step closer—slow, deliberate. “That isn’t a bargaining chip. That isn’t a casual promise.”
“I know.”
Her voice is barely a whisper, but steady.
I stop in front of her, so close I can feel heat radiating from her. Her breath catches, her pupils widening as she looks up at me. I can see the rise and fall of her chest, quick and shallow.
“So tell me,” I murmur, “why do I still get the feeling you’re not telling me the whole truth?”
She jerks slightly, eyes flashing panic.
“I—I am.”
“You’re not,” I say quietly, crouching to her level. “You’re hiding something. And if I’m going to agree to something like this, I need to know everything.”
Her throat bobs.
The electricity between us crackles so intensely it feels like a living thing. My mind tells me to back away, to regain control. But my body moves closer, drawn to her like gravity itself has shifted.
She whispers, “If I tell you the rest… you might say no.”
“Try me.”
For a single breath, neither of us moves. Then she exhales shakily, and her voice trembles as she begins?—
“My aunt isn’t planning to just force me into an engagement. By signing over conservatorship of my children she’ll have the means to control me forever. She doesn’t just want to manage the family trust. She wants to take everything. My inheritance. My home. My position on the company board. Everything that’s supposed to be mine.”
The blood in my veins heats with slow, steady anger.
“She can’t do that,” I growl.
“She can,” Kamiyah whispers, looking away. “She’s willing to use Anna to make me submit. If she proves Anna is in a vegetative state, there’s nothing stopping her from ending my sister’s life.”
