Page 36 of Claimed By the Silver Fox

And then he turns to us, an expression of certainty on his face. “Positive. Both tests. You’re pregnant, Julia.”

She sucks in a sharp breath, though it can’t come as much of a shock. Still, it hits me like a ton of bricks—she really is carrying my child. It’s the last thing I expected when I got married to her, but then, in some twisted way, it makes perfect sense. Of course she’s pregnant. She’s my wife, we’ve had sex—why wouldn’t she be pregnant?

I turn to the doctor, gesturing for him to go. “The guards will show you out,” I tell him sharply.

He stares at me for a moment, but then seems to think better of sticking around and making a case to spend any more time here, when he so clearly wishes he could be anywhere else. He ducks his head down and scurries past me, leaving Julia and I alone in the room together—alone with the weight of the news that both of us are trying to wrap our heads around.

Silence fills the space between us for a long moment, neither of us saying a word. And then she looks up and me and speaks, her voice full of reproach. “You believe me now?”

“I didn’t doubt you before,” I reply evenly. “I just needed to hear it for myself.”

She rolls her eyes skyward, letting out a slight laugh. “Oh, yeah, of course,” she replies. “But you trust me now, right? Now that the doctor has confirmed it?”

I nod. “You need to rest,” I tell her. “We’ll figure out what we’re going to do for the rest of the pregnancy later—I can take care of that part⁠—”

“Yeah, just like you take care of everything, right?” she replies, tipping her head to the side, clearly frustrated. “Look, Antonio, I’m not worried about the pregnancy. I know you have access to all the best doctors in the world. I’m worried…” She presses her lips together for a moment, as if gathering herself. “I’m worried about what’s going to happen when this baby comes along.”

Her eyes lock onto mine, piercing straight through me. I have to draw my gaze from hers, suddenly confronted by the reality of what she’s asking me. I know she has every right to demand an explanation from me, God knows—every right to try and clear up exactly what approach I’m going to take to all of this, given that I’ve ducked and dived and dodged the matter until now.

But I don’t want to burden her with it. The truth of what’s going through my mind when it comes to the matter of having another child. The fear that pounds deep inside of me, warning me, in no uncertain terms, that I’m going to create another person like Andreo.

Even beyond his betrayal of me, hearing what he has done to Julia, the way he hurt her and controlled her—abused her, if I’m being honest with myself—it terrifies me. Did he learn that from me? And if he did, will I pass the same thing down to any other child who’s unfortunate enough to share my blood?

But I can tell she needs an answer. Something. Anything. I part my lips, willing myself to come out with it, to come out with anything at all that will make right the quiet that has lived between us since she told me.

“You said you needed time to think yesterday,” she continues, her voice cracking slightly. “You haven’t figured it out yet, have you? What you want with this baby?”

I say nothing, but that, in and of itself, is an answer. She lowers her gaze, smiling slightly, though it seems to be more an expression of confirmation than anything else.

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “That’s what I thought.”

I want to tell her that it’s not what she thinks, that I do care, that I care more than I can put into words—that there’s almost nothing I wouldn’t do if it meant showing her that I will be there for her in any way that she needs me to be. But the words fail me, and instead I just look back at her in stony silence. I know, deep down, it’s not what she needs for me. Not what she was hoping for, when she came to me with the news of this child.

“You should go,” she tells me, looking away from me again. “I think—I think we’re done here.”

There’s a finality to her tone that unsettles me, a choice made that I know nothing about. It doesn’t sit right with me, and for a moment, I think of prying further, trying to work out what’s going on beneath the surface. But something behind her eyes has slammed shut, leaving no room for debate or conversation. No, she’s done with this, once and for all. And whatever it is that comes next…

I get the feeling that I only have myself to blame for it.

“If you need anything⁠—”

“I don’t.”

I know she wants me to go. But still, I linger there in the doorway, hoping that she will change her mind, think better of it, give me something to go on. She doesn’t. So, finally, I turn to make my way out of the bedroom, my mind still racked with questions over everything that has just happened.

Because I get the feeling I might just have pushed her to a choice she doesn’t want to have to make. Even if I don’t know what that choice might be yet—I know that I’m soon going to find out.

18

JULIA

I swipe the tears from my eyes as I cram as much as I can into one of the bags on the bed. I know that none of this was mine when I arrived, but I’ll be damned if I leave here with nothing to show for it. These designer clothes and expensive pieces might not be much, but they’re pretty much the only thing I have in the way of resources right now, and I’m going to need everything I can get if I actually make it out of this house.

The mansion is silent around me, as though it’s holding its breath. Quiet echoes through every inch of this place, and still, I can’t help but feel as though I’m being watched, as though there’s someone lurking just out of sight who is ready to pounce and keep me from making my escape. I try to push it aside, the weight of that discomfort, but then I think back to the way Antonio looked at me before, and it all comes flooding back, whether I like it or not.

I clamp my hand over my face to try and contain the sob that wants to escape me. I could just put all of this down to pregnancy hormones, nothing more, but I’m certain it’s more than that. The way he looked at me, the cold, callous expression on his face—it’s clear that he doesn’t want this child. He would have told me if he did. Acted like it, at least. Been excited when the doctor confirmed that, yes, I really am pregnant. And instead…

Instead he looked like he had been punched in the fucking guts the moment he heard those words come out of the doctor’s mouth. He might not have said it, but I know what’s going through his mind, the realization that he might have another child like Andreo. I wish I could try to convince him otherwise, that it’s not a matter of nature but nurture—but maybe I’m trying to convince myself as much as I am him.