The cushion sags beneath me as I sit. He is so beautiful. I forgot. He’s still watching me warily, like he still doesn’t quite believe me.
"Warren knows about the baby," I say. "He threatened to expose everything if I didn't fall in line. When I refused, he made it clear he'd go after you directly."
"He already has." Jamie pulls out his phone, the screen cracked. "Forty-eight hours to leave town, or everyone finds out whose bastard I'm carrying." He reads the words without emotion, but I can see his hand trembling. "His words, not mine."
The rage that floods through me is incandescent. I want to find Warren, wrap my hands around his throat again, and this time not let go until—
"Don't." Jamie's voice cuts through the red haze. "I can see what you're thinking. It won't help."
"He threatened our daughter."
"And there’s not a lot that either of us can do about it." Jamie shifts on the sofa, one hand pressing into his lower back. "The moment anyone finds out about this, both of our careers are cooked."
"We go public first," I say. The idea has been crystallizing since I left the estate, since I felt Warren's pulse hammering beneath my palm. "Not on his timeline, on ours. We control the narrative before he can."
"Go public with what, exactly? That the journalist who exposed your family has been sleeping with the heir apparent?"
"That we're a prime match." I lean forward. "Think about it. Everyone saw that interview with David Glass. The whole country watched us lose our minds in front of the cameras. They've been speculating for months. We confirm it—confirm that it's real, that we tried to fight it and couldn't—and suddenly the story isn't about scandal. It's about fate."
Jamie stares at me. "You want to spin this as a romance."
"I want to tell the truth. We are prime matched. We did try to stay away from each other. And now—" I gesture at his belly. "Now we're having a daughter."
"And your campaign?"
The question hangs in the air. I think about the town halls, the handshakes, the carefully constructed image of Carter Crane III, reformer and family man. I think about my father's face when he told me not to be naive.
"I’m still the same person. I promised to be honest so I will be," I say. "If I can't be honest about my own life, what business do I have asking for anyone's vote?"
"Carter—"
"I can't keep quiet. Neither of us can. If this doesn’t come out now, it’ll come out later. Our child can’t live her whole life as a secret."
Jamie is quiet for a long moment. His hand moves absently over his belly, a slow circle.
"There's something else I want to say. And that is thank you. For never revealing your source.”
Jamie frowns. “Obviously not.”
“I know, but now I know it was Kate, I am additionally grateful. My sister is a good person. I know she had her reasons for doing it, but she didn’t need to be pulled into this whole media shitshow. I’m glad she wasn’t.”
Jamie goes very still.
The confusion on Jamie's face shifts to something else. Disbelief. "I never met the source in person. We communicated through encrypted channels. Dead drops. There's no way..."
"She admitted it to my father in January. I just found out."
Jamie lets out a breath. "Kate Crane." He shakes his head slowly.
"She's also the reason my father knows something is coming." I pause, choosing my words carefully. "Kate told my mother you didn't know the half of it. There's more she didn't give you. Things even the expose didn't cover."
"What things?"
"I don't know yet. But if Warren's moving this fast, it means he's scared. Which means whatever Kate has, it's bad enough to bring everything down. I’m worried about her too. I’ve texted her to tell her what’s happening. I’d like to still keep it quiet that she’s the source. I know it’s a lot to ask."
Jamie closes his eyes. His hand has stilled on his belly, pressed flat like he's steadying himself.
"This is insane," he says quietly.
