The walls feel tighter. The air staler. I can’t step into a single room without hearing whispers. A dozen staff members pretend not to stare when I pass, but I see their eyes flick to my midsection. I hear the late-night calls my father makes when he thinks I’m asleep.
I am a scandal now.
My mother’s name is used in hushed comparison—like I’m following in her footsteps. Like it’s genetic.
But no one dares say it to my face.
Only Father does.
“You’ve disgraced us,” he growls the first morning I’m allowed out of bed. “Do you understand the weight of what you’ve done? Do you?”
I stare out the window, arms crossed, belly clenched. “I understand more than you think.”
He slams his hand on the table. “Don’t you dare take that tone with me, girl. Do you know what it took to make this disappear? Do you know how many favors I called in? That ship was nearly intercepted before it ever left atmosphere.”
A bitter smile twists my mouth. “Shame it didn’t succeed.”
He rounds on me. “You—what, you wanted to stay there? With that—thing?”
My jaw clenches. “He’s more of a man than you’ll ever be.”
That earns me a slap.
Hard. Swift. Cold.
I don’t flinch.
I just meet his eyes and whisper, “You can’t scare me anymore.”
He storms out.
Frederick arrives two days later.
Wearing mourning colors—gray with silver trim, to symbolize patience and solemnity. He greets me like a long-lost lover instead of the parasite he is.
“My dearest,” he says softly, taking my hand like we’re in a ballroom and not a gilded prison. “You’ve been through so much.”
I yank my hand back. “Don’t touch me.”
He sighs. “Still resistant. I understand. You’ve been manipulated. Poisoned. But time will heal you.”
“I don’t want your time. I don’t want anything from you.”
“Except, of course,” he adds, eyes drifting to my stomach, “the child.”
Ice floods my veins.
He sees it. Smiles wider. “The Verne line must continue. And I am, by law, your most suitable match. Your father agrees.”
“I don’t.”
He waves that off like it’s irrelevant.
“You’ve always had such fire,” he muses. “I used to think it charming. Now I know it’s just stubbornness.”
He doesn’t ask.
He declares.
