“Tell me who the father is.”
“No.”
His grip tightens. “Aurelia.”
“You can’t make decisions like this without the family,” I say, trying to pull away. “Julian should be here.”
“Your brother is dealing with his own problems.”
“Then call him. Let him decide what happens.”
“Julian and his wife just lost another baby,” Victor says, and his voice is almost gentle. “Nadia is devastated. Julian is barely holding it together.”
The information hits me like a slap. “I didn’t know,” I say quietly.
“You’ve been gone for months. A lot has happened.”
“Then maybe I should be there. With my family. Instead of being locked up here.”
Victor’s mouth curves into something cruel. “Actually, this could work out perfectly. Julian and Nadia can’t seem to carry a pregnancy to term. But you apparently have no problem gettingpregnant. Maybe you could give them your baby. Be a surrogate mother for your brother. I’m sure they’d be grateful.”
The words take a moment to land.
When they do, rage floods through me so hot and bright that I forget to be scared.
“You’re insane.”
“I’m practical.”
“You want to take my baby and give it to Julian?”
“It would solve everyone’s problems. Julian gets the child he desperately wants. You get to stay useful to this family. The baby will be raised by people who actually want it.”
“I want it.”
The words come out before I can stop them, and I realize with shocking clarity that they’re true. I want this baby. Even though it’s Cassian’s. Even though it’s proof of one reckless night. Even though it complicates everything.
I want it.
“Do you?” Victor asks, watching me carefully. “You don’t look like someone who’s ready to be a mother. You look like someone who can barely take care of herself.”
“Go to hell.”
“Tell me who the father is, Aurelia. Last chance.”
“Or what? You’ll torture it out of me?”
“I’ll make sure you understand exactly how few choices you have left.”
We stare at each other, and I see the truth in his eyes. He’s not bluffing. He will do whatever it takes to get the information he wants, and I can’t stop him. I’m alone here. Trapped. Powerless.
“Cassian Rourke,” I say finally.
The silence that follows is absolute.
Victor watches me in silence, and for a while, nothing about him changes. Then his focus narrows, as if a thought has finished forming, and his eyes widen just enough to register surprise before his features settle again. When his mouth finally lifts, it’s slow and assured. The kind of smile that comes from devising an evil plan.
“Cassian Rourke,” he repeats. “You’re telling me you’re carrying Cassian Rourke’s child.”
