“What— I—I don’t think I understood you,” I stammer, too shocked to speak clearly.
My head spins, replaying his words again and again.
Then indignation floods my veins.
I can deal with gossip—but I refuse to be judged in a place like this. This should be a safe space for any woman. For God’s sake, this man took an oath.
“I’m going to assume I misunderstood,” I say firmly. “This is your chance to restart this appointment properly, Doctor.”
I’ve never reacted to the endless rumours about me.
After the damage done the last time—when my sarcastic response only fuelled the absurd lie that I was romantically involved not just with Nero, but with his friends as well—I learned that the best way to fight lies is not to validate them.
Maybe I was wrong.
How apathetic do people think I am for a doctor to feel comfortable saying something like that to my face?
Every fibre of my body burns with anger—and the doctor notices.
“Calm down, child,” he says condescendingly. “You don’t need to get upset. I’m here to help. I just want to make sure you understand all the options available to you. All the ways you can get what you want.”
“And what exactly do you think I want?” I shoot back, the questions spilling out faster than reason.
I know this isn’t concern. I shouldn’t even be listening—but before I can stand and leave, Dr. Kayrus continues.
“Well,” he chuckles. “Let’s not dance around it, shall we? You returned to the island less than three months ago, you’re already pregnant by the heir, and it’s common knowledge you’ve been… generous with your affections.”
Fact and gossip blend into a single, perverse narrative I’m apparently not allowed to dispute.
“This baby is clearly leverage,” he states.
My chest tightens painfully.
I stop breathing.
“So the question is—how much is it worth to you? Because I know people who are willing to pay enough to give you your freedom without all thisinconvenience.”
He gestures casually toward my belly.
“All you have to do is get rid ofit.”
His next move is even clearer than his words.
With practiced ease, he opens a drawer, pulls out a blister pack with two pills, and slides it across the glass desk toward me.
Abortion.
Medication to initiate the procedure.
The room tilts.
Still, I pick it up and read the name on the back.
I look up at him, my mind screaminghow is this possible?
The answer strikes instantly.
Lysandra.
