He walks over to me and picks me up. He carries me out of the bathroom, treating me like I am made of spun glass that is already cracking.
He lays me on the bed. He pulls the duvet over me, tucking me in so tight I can barely move.
"Stay," he commands.
He sits on the edge of the bed. He puts his hand back on my stomach. He stares at it as if he can see through the skin, through the muscle, to the tiny spark of life inside.
"I will build a world for it," he whispers. "A world where nothing can touch it. A world where there are no monsters except me."
I look at him. I see the walls going up. I see the cage tightening.
I wanted a family. I wanted a connection.
But as I look at the fanatical devotion in his eyes, I realize the truth.
I haven't just created a child.
I have created a new obsession.
And this one might consume us all.
CHAPTER 31
THE GLASS WOMB
POV: SILAS
The penthouse smells of rubbing alcohol and latex.
It used to smell of expensive candles, oil paint, and the faint, intoxicating scent of Ivy’s skin. Now, it smells like a hospital.
I stand in the doorway of the guest wing, which is no longer a guest wing. In the span of six hours, I have transformed it into a Level 4 medical facility.
Dr. Aris, a man whose medical license was revoked three years ago for "unethical experimentation" but whose skills are unmatched, is calibrating an ultrasound machine. Two nurses—vetted by Luca, background checked by the NSA, and terrified by me—are organizing a cabinet of prenatal vitamins and emergency equipment.
There is a fetal heart monitor. An incubator. A crash cart.
I look at the crash cart. The defibrillator paddles. The adrenaline needles.
My chest tightens. It’s a physical sensation, like a band of steel constricting my lungs.
If she dies...
The thought is a parasite. It burrowed into my brain the moment she whispered the word "positive" in the bathroom. It feeds on my blood. It whispers to me in the silence.
Women die in childbirth. Hemorrhage. Eclampsia. Infection.
Nature is chaotic. Nature is cruel. I have spent my life controlling chaos, bending the world to my will, but biology? Biology is the one enemy I cannot intimidate.
So I will fortify. I will build a wall of science and steel around her so thick that death cannot find the door.
"Mr. Vane," Dr. Aris says, turning to me. He adjusts his glasses. "The suite is operational. We have enough blood plasma on hand to replace her entire volume three times over. The equipment is state-of-the-art."
"Is it enough?" I ask.
"It is more than most hospitals have in their VIP wings," Aris assures me. "But sir... she is healthy. She is young. There is no indication of high risk yet."
"She is pregnant with my child," I say, my voice cold. "That makes her the highest risk target on the planet."
