Nope. That’s a compound problem on top of a compound problem.
I don't say the words, but I don't have to. My silence screams them loud enough.
His gaze traces my face, lingering on the tight press of my lips, the tension in my jaw, the way my fingers have gone white against the armrests. Something flickers in those dark eyes. Recognition. Understanding. Maybe even a hint of something softer that vanishes before I can name it.
"That's what I thought." He nods slowly, a muscle ticking beneath his beard. His voice carries no triumph, no smugness. Just the quiet certainty of a man whose arrogance has never been challenged.
I shoot to my feet, the chair scraping against the floor. "I can't do this. It's bad enough that I defied my father." I shake my head, backing toward the door on unsteady legs. "I take it you know who I am and why this is not good. I already have a target on my back. I can't add to it. I can’t add working with the enemy to my growing list of sins."
"Don't forget to add sleeping with the enemy." His voice cuts through my retreat, sharp and knowing–a blade wrapped in silk but a blade all the same. "And… getting pregnant by the enemy."
The words hit like bullets to the chest, each one tearing through flesh and bone to lodge in my heart. I freeze mid-step. The air rushes out of my lungs. My heart slams against my ribs so hard I swear he must hear it from across the room.
Pregnant. He knows I'm pregnant.
How? The question ricochets through my skull, but I can't form the word. Can't form any words. My tongue has turned to sandpaper, my throat closing around a scream I refuse to release.
I haven't told anyone except Luna. She would never betray me. She would never.
"What makes you say that?" The words scrape out of my throat, raw and jagged. I force my spine straight, force my chin up, even as my hands tremble at my sides. "What makes you think I'm pregnant?"
His smile doesn't waver. If anything, it sharpens. He reaches for his phone on the desk, and my stomach drops through the floor before I even understand why.
Then he turns the screen toward me.
My own image fills the display. Naked. Vulnerable. The caption I added burning beneath my body like a brand.
2 months pregnant.
The floor tilts beneath my feet. "How did you get those?" The words come out strangled, barely audible over the roaring in my ears.
"You sent them to me."
One dark eyebrow arches, the corner of his mouth twitching with something that might be amusement if it weren't so dangerous. He's enjoying this. Not cruelly, but the way a cat enjoys watching a mouse realize the trap has already sprung.
Me? No. That's not possible. I would never...
I pull out my phone with trembling hands and scroll to my messages, my vision blurring at the edges. And there it is. The photos I meant to keep private, timestamped two nights ago as being shared with the number Luna gave me for my interview.
Hisnumber.
The memory crashes over me. Falling asleep with my phone in my hand. Exhaustion pulling me under. The notification I dismissed without reading the next morning.
Message sent.
"My god." One hand flies to my mouth, pressing hard against my lips as if I can somehow hold back the horror rising in my throat. The phone nearly slips from my numb fingers, and I clutch it against my chest like a lifeline, like evidence of my own destruction.
The room tilts. I can feel the blood draining from my face, rushing downward and leaving nothing but cold, hollow dread behind.
I sent him nude photos of myself. Pregnant. With a caption announcing exactly how far along I am.
“What have I done?”
"You accidentally sent nude pregnancy photos to the father of your child." His voice is infuriatingly calm, almost amused. "Quite the icebreaker."
Father of your child.The words echo in my skull. He knows. He's known since Saturday night.
"I have to go." I shove my phone into my clutch and turn for the door, my only thought is escape, escape, escape. I need air. I need space. I need to get away from those knowing eyes and that devastating scent and the wreckage of every plan I thought I had.
