“You’re planning something,” Willow muttered, eyeing me as she nursed Evander.
I stroked her thigh, my thumb pressing into the spot that made her breath hitch.“Only dreams, little flower.”
Lies.
My dreams would become our reality. A daughter first—doting, perfect, mine—then a dynasty to outlast the stars themselves. Willow was bound to me, thorn and flesh, and she would remain forever swollen with my heirs.
Good luck with that, Father. She is mine. Evander’s voice echoed in my mind, interrupting my grand dream.
I smiled, slow and dangerous, before waving my fingers over his brow.Sleep well, son.
Magic coiled through the air—a gentle lullaby of forced slumber. His eyelids fluttered, his grip on Willow’s hair slackened.
Victory will always be mine.
The Shadow In The Ultrasound
Prologue
Elliot
Four Years Ago
The numbness never lifted. Not when the priest droned on about God’s plan, nor when the tiny polished oak coffin was lowered into the ground. None of it mattered because the brightest light in my life was extinguished.
I would never see my son’s toothy smile or hear his excited Da-da when I walked through the door. My fourteen-month-old son was sealed in his coffin and forever silent. Every stage of Elias’s life was seared into my core and played on repeat.
Julia began to cry. I reached for her. My fingers brushed her shoulder, a reflex more than comfort. She stiffened. Shrugged me off like a stranger. The fracture had been widening for months. First, it was the spare bedroom.
I need space.
Then, the silence. Meals were eaten in shifts to avoid speaking. Now, flinching from my touch at our son’s funeral.
The writing was on the wall. It was only a matter of time before she asked me for a divorce. We were two parents grieving separately under one roof. My profound sadness, despair and loneliness were in a constant battle with my anger and resentment. I tried to be there for Julia, but I could only cope with so much rejection.
I drowned myself in work. The irony wasn’t lost on me—ushering life into the world while mine rotted in the ground. I didn't need to know what hell was like because my life was hell on earth.
My fists clenched so tight my nails drew blood. My soul trembled, screaming to tear open the earth, to claw through polished wood and drag him back. To shake his tiny shoulders until his laughter bubbled up again.
But I stood there frozen and let the wind freeze the tears on my face.
Life would never be the same again.
Chapter 1
Charlotte
The stylus hovered over the tablet screen, tapping impatiently. Two perfect prams. One with Swiss wheels, the other with a bassinet that converted to a toddler seat. My pros-and-cons list was a lost cause—both options had “will spoil my child rotten” written in bright red.
The nursery mocked my indecision. Ready and waiting. I’d painted the walls in various shades of soft blue and grey. The floating shelves were prepared for picture books, and even stencilled constellations along the ceiling.
My two-bedroom apartment was small, but I’d carved out a kingdom for this baby—my baby. There was no shared custody, no compromises, just science, a turkey baster, and sheer stubbornness. Well, not quite. The National Health Service was costly for private insemination services.
My phone buzzed.
Stepmother From Hell:Chloe’s due in 8 weeks. You couldn’t let her have this one thing to herself?
I exhaled through my nose. Six weeks left until my due date, and this was the energy she brought? Chloe and I hadn’t spoken in years. We didn’t even live in the same county. But sure, my womb was a calculated attack on her precious daughter’s spotlight.
