“Or daughter,” I interrupt, smirking with a raised eyebrow.
He slowly grins in return. “A daughter of mine would be almost too precious, Nevi. I’m not sure I could handle another one of you. She would run the household because I could never say no to her.”
I lean in and kiss him softly on the mouth, tasting salt from my tears. When we part, he pulls me down beside him carefully, arranging us so we’re lying face to face on our sides.
“I want to take maternity photos,” I confess. “The kind where you’re holding my belly. Family photos. So we can track this experience together.”
“Anything you want.” His hand finds my stomach again, resting there like he’s already protecting what’s inside. “I can’t wait to see your belly swell. To watch our baby grow.”
“There’s still so much to look into… but I think I want a water birth,” I add. “I remember reading about it. It’s supposed to be more gentle for the baby.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do.” He kisses my nose and pulls me even closer. “Whatever makes you and our baby safest and happiest.”
We talk for what feels like hours, planning and dreaming about a future that suddenly feels possible. A future where we’re not just survivors, but a family. Where the darkness we’ve endured gives way to something bright and new.
Eventually the exhaustion I’ve been fighting catches up to me. My eyelids grow heavy, and Caelian’s voice becomes a comforting rumble as I drift off.
The last words I hear as my dreams overtake me come from Caelian.
“Sleep, mia bella ballerina. We both need rest now.”
THIRTY-ONE
Caelian
Months passlike pages turning in a book I never thought I’d get to finish.
My body heals. Slowly at first, the gunshot wound to my chest leaving me weak and breathless for weeks.
But under Dr. Tulio’s careful monitoring, I gradually make progress. Without the experimental treatments that were poisoning me for years, my heart condition actually begins to stabilize.
The pain that’s been my constant companion since childhood lessens. My strength returns in increments—first being able to walk without assistance, then climb stairs, then finally move through my days without feeling like my chest is being crushed in a vice.
It’s not a cure. I’ll always have this condition, always need to be careful.
But for the first time in my life, I’m not getting worse. I’m actually gettingbetter.
The key Nevaeh kept hidden and that so many people died trying to possess leads us to an underground vault at Zinc Co headquarters.
It takes days to get a team to penetrate the thick, ultra-reinforced, stainless-steel vault door. Once it’s taken out, we find ourselves deep in the bowels of Nero’s vault.
Nevaeh and I follow the rows upon rows of his vast fortune. Everything from stacks of cash to gold bars and jewels.
We wind up in front of a lockbox with the same number as the brass key.
She turns to me with her dark eyes bright and curious and offers me what so many have sought to take from her. She’s four months pregnant now, still comically petite while now growing a small belly that’s starting to show under the loose sweater she wears.
Our fingers brush as I take the key from her and give a nod.
In many ways, this is the moment we never even knew our marriage was building toward.
From my end, seeking the ballerina who would cure me. The mysterious beauty from my dreams who would make the pain go away.
And from hers, the manipulation her parents had carried out, striking the deals they had and offering her up the way they did.
I step forward and slide the key into the lock, twisting it until there’s a mechanical click. The box pops open revealing a cushioned inside where a single vial of clear liquid rests.
The cure.
