But the day isn’t done with me. I don’t see Warren at first. My head is spinning, but he’s there, leaning against the entrance to the library.
"Your father told you about Kate." It's not a question. "I could hear you shouting from down the hall."
"I wasn't shouting."
"You were." He turns now, and his smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Understandable, given the circumstances. Family betrayal is always painful."
I don't respond. Warren has always made me uneasy—there's something behind his professional polish that feels like watching a predator wear a person's skin. But he's been part of my father's operation for twenty years. He's family, in his own way.
At least, that's what I used to think.
"I wanted to give you some information," Warren says. "Since we're clearing the air."
"What information?"
He reaches into his jacket pocket. My stomach tightens before I even see what he's holding.
A photograph. He sets it on the table between us.
For a moment, I don't understand what I'm looking at. A man on a street. Caught in profile. One hand resting on—
The world stops.
That's Jamie.
That's Jamie, and he's—
He's pregnant.
The swell of his belly is unmistakable. He’s huge. Months along. His hand curves protectively over the rounded shape, and even in the grainy surveillance photo I can see how his body has changed and softened.
"Interesting, isn't it?" Warren's voice comes from very far away. "Dean's been very careful. New phone number, new routines, stays off social media entirely. But careful isn't the same as invisible."
I can't speak. I can't move. I'm staring at the photograph and the room is spinning around me and nothing makes sense because Jamie is pregnant. Jamie is pregnant and he never told me. Jamie is pregnant and I didn't know. I've spent six monthsdrowning in wanting him and he's been carrying my child this whole time and he never—
He never told me.
"The timeline is suggestive," Warren continues, his voice pleasant, conversational, like we're discussing the weather. "Based on how far along he appears, conception would have been around January. That off-grid retreat of yours hits right at the mostly likely time."
The cabin. The heat. Days of Jamie in my arms, in my bed, wrapped around me like he was trying to climb inside my skin.
"I can see this is news to you." Warren sounds amused. "Dean kept his secret well. Though I suppose that tracks. He's proven quite adept at hiding things that matter."
My hands are shaking. My whole body is shaking. I reach for the photograph without thinking, and Warren lets me take it, watching me with those cold, calculating eyes.
Jamie's face in profile. The curve of his belly. My child growing inside him.
Six months. He's been alone for six months, pregnant and hiding, and I've been giving speeches and shaking hands and lying awake at night trying to forget him, and he's been—
"Why are you showing me this?"
My voice doesn't sound like my own. It sounds scraped raw, dragged over broken glass.
"Because I need you to understand the stakes." Warren sets down his whiskey glass with a precise click. "I've spent twenty years protecting this family, Carter. Cleaning up messes. Managing problems. Your father trusts me to handle things that require a certain... discretion."
"Get to the point."
"The point is that Jamie Dean is a problem. He was a problem when he published that exposé, and he's a bigger problem now." Warren's smile widens. "An omega carrying the Crane heir'sillegitimate child? The scandal writes itself. The press would feast on it for months."
