I'm pregnant with Gabriel Ambrose's child.
I sink onto the closed toilet lid, the test still clutched in my trembling hand. My mind has gone completely blank—no thoughts, no emotions, just a vast white emptiness where my future used to be.
A baby. I'm going to have a baby.
His baby. The baby of a murderer, a stalker, a man who destroyed my life to make me need him. A man who ties me to his bed and calls me his and looks at me with eyes that see too much.
A man I might be falling for, despite everything. Despite all of it.
What do I do? What the hell do I do?
I could end it. The thought surfaces unbidden, cold and practical. I'm early enough that it would be simple, safe, a medical procedure rather than a surgical one. I could make an appointment, take care of it, and Gabriel would never have to know.
But even as I think it, I know I won't do it. Not because I'm opposed to the choice—I'm not, I believe in the right to make that decision—but because some deep, irrational part of me doesn't want to.
Some part of me wants this baby.
The realization is terrifying. It doesn't make sense. Nothing about my situation makes sense. I should be running, not nesting. I should be planning my escape, not contemplating motherhood with a man who keeps me like a possession.
But I felt something shift when I saw those two lines. Something settle into place, as if a piece I didn't know was missing had finally been found.
I'm going to have this baby.
The question is whether I'm going to tell Gabriel.
I sit on the bathroom floor for a long time, the test in my hand, the weight of the future pressing down on me. Eventually, someone knocks on the door—another customer, needing to use the facilities—and I force myself to stand.
I wrap the test in toilet paper and shove it into my purse, next to Zach's card. Two secrets, hidden in the same bag. Two bombs waiting to explode.
I splash water on my face, take a deep breath, and unlock the door.
The stranger waiting outside gives me an odd look—I've been in here too long, my face is too pale, something is clearly wrong—but I push past her without explanation.
Outside, the city has gone on without me. People walking, cars driving, life continuing as if nothing has changed.
But everything has changed.
I have a secret growing inside me. A secret that will bind me to Gabriel Ambrose forever, whether I want it to or not.
And I still haven't decided whether that's a curse or a gift.
Chapter 24 - Gabriel
Bryan Vanderwal's estate sits at the end of a private road, hidden behind walls of old-growth oak and iron gates that have guarded secrets for three generations. I haven't been here since my father's funeral, when Bryan stood beside the grave with dry eyes and a face carved from stone, mourning a man he'd called brother for forty years.
That was five years ago. A lifetime, in some ways. Nothing at all, in others.
The gates open as I approach—Bryan knows I'm coming, has known since Hutton made the call yesterday. He's had time to prepare, to decide what he'll tell me and what he'll keep hidden. Men like Bryan always have layers of truth, each one revealing just enough to satisfy while concealing what really matters.
I know this because I'm the same way.
The house emerges from the trees like something out of another century—Georgian architecture, ivy-covered walls, windows that have watched generations of Vanderwal men conduct their business in shadows. It's smaller than my estate but older, steeped in a history that predates the Brotherhood itself.
Bryan is waiting on the front steps. He's aged since I last saw him—his hair has gone fully white, his frame more stooped, his hands gnarled with arthritis—but his eyes are the same. Sharp. Calculating. The eyes of a man who's survived seven decades in a world that devours the weak.
"Gabriel." He extends a hand as I climb the steps. His grip is firmer than I expected. "It's been too long."
"Bryan. Thank you for seeing me."
