Chapter 2
1242words
I didn't go home with Silas. I told him I wasn't feeling well and needed to leave first. He frowned, displeased that I'd cracked the "perfect couple" façade, but ultimately let me go.
The car glided through New York's frost-bitten midnight streets.
My hand never left my abdomen.
Pregnant.
What should have been joyous news now seared my heart like a branding iron.
Savannah's words echoed in my mind like a curse—
"He married you just to remember the betrayal from years ago!"
"What a romantic torture."
I cannot—will not—let my child be born into this cage of lies and hatred.
I need proof.
I didn't return to our cold, empty marital mansion in the Upper East Side.
Instead, I directed the driver toward the Carlyle Building downtown.
That was Silas's private sanctuary. A "forbidden zone" on the top floor where I was never permitted to set foot.
Our "contractual marriage" agreement explicitly stated that unless there was a "life-threatening emergency," I was forbidden from entering.
He once smiled and told me: "Darling, it's just boring business documents. I wouldn't want to trouble your pretty head with them."
Now I realized what he was hiding wasn't documents, but the real "betrayal" he didn't want me to witness.
The emergency key card in my purse now felt heavier than lead.
Tonight qualified as an "emergency situation."
The elevator ascended silently, my ghostly reflection staring back at me. I forced myself to breathe deeply.
I needed answers. No matter how brutal the truth, I had to know if my child's father truly loved me or was simply… tormenting me.
A soft beep confirmed the key card's verification.
The electronic lock disengaged with a whisper.
The apartment lay in darkness, with only Manhattan's glittering skyline through the floor-to-ceiling windows outlining the living room's silhouette.
A sweet, cloying perfume hung in the air—one that didn't belong to Silas.
Savannah's signature scent.
My heart plummeted.
Hushed, argumentative voices drifted from the partially open study.
I slipped off my heels and padded silently across the cold marble floor.
Then I saw it.
The scene before me froze me in place.
Savannah was wearing Silas's black silk shirt.
The very one I'd hand-picked for him last month. Now it hung loosely on Savannah's frame, collar gaping open as she clung to Silas from behind.
Silas stood before the window, his back to me, wearing only trousers.
"Silas, what are you waiting for?" Savannah's voice was tearful, dripping with toxic possessiveness. "You've been tormenting her for a year! Your father's been avenged! Why won't you divorce her?"
"I told you," Silas growled, his voice rough with irritation, "now is not the time."
"Not the time?" Savannah shrieked. "Have you fallen for her? For that 'enemy's daughter'? Have you forgotten what happened to your father?"
"Shut up!"
"I won't!" Savannah clutched him tighter. "You said you married her to make her taste what it's like to have nothing! Well, she's fallen for you—mission accomplished! Silas, let her go and free yourself. You belong to me. You always have!"
CRASH
Something inside me shattered completely.
Everything Savannah said was true.
It wasn't a "contract marriage"…
It was a "necessary evil."
All my patience this past year, all my pathetic "maybe he loves me a little" delusions—nothing but a cruel joke.
I was merely a tool for his revenge.
Shock and disgust made my body tremble uncontrollably. My handbag slipped from my numb fingers, hitting the floor with a dull thud.
The pregnancy test tumbled out, coming to rest beside my bare foot.
The voices in the study died instantly.
Silas whipped around.
When he saw me in the shadows, those always-controlled blue eyes showed, for the first time, genuine, undisguised panic.
"Fiona?"
He shoved Savannah away immediately.
She stumbled backward, colliding with the desk.
Silas strode toward me, reaching for my hand. "Fiona, let me explain. This isn't—"
"Isn't what?" My voice emerged, cold as arctic ice. "Isn't it that you married me for revenge? Or isn't it that you slept with her last night?"
I pointed at the damning evidence of his shirt on her body.
"Don't misunderstand!" Embarrassment flashed across his face. "I drank too much last night. She was the one who—"
"She made the first move?" I finished for him. "Classic Silas. Always 'too drunk,' always 'unable to control yourself.'"
"Fiona!" His voice carried a warning edge.
Savannah, recovered from her initial shock, had regained her composure.
Her eyes caught the pregnancy test by my feet, and malicious jealousy flashed across her face.
She sauntered over and picked up the test.
"Oh my goodness." She feigned surprise, then turned to Silas with wounded eyes. "Silas… you actually let her carry your child?"
She spat the word "her" with venomous contempt.
"Savannah, shut up!" Silas roared.
"Why should I?" Savannah's performance began, tears welling in her eyes. "You promised me! You swore this Lancaster heir could only come from me!"
She turned to me with a cruel smile. "Poor little Fiona. Think you've won? You're just carrying another tool for his revenge. He doesn't love you. He won't even let this child be born!"
"I told you to shut up!"
Silas shoved me aside and lunged toward Savannah, apparently trying to silence her.
To me, his action looked more like protection.
He didn't comfort me—his wife—first. Instead, he rushed to calm his mistress.
Savannah watched him approach, knowing she'd achieved her goal.
She had successfully ignited this war.
She wiped her crocodile tears, flashed a victorious smile, and grabbed her coat. "Silas, you've disappointed me terribly."
Without even glancing my way, she stormed toward the exit with scorched-earth determination.
"You will never beat me," she hissed as she brushed past me.
SLAM!
The door crashed shut behind her.
Silas stood frozen.
The man who always controlled everything now stood paralyzed between two crises: his pregnant wife who'd just discovered his revenge plot, and the "wronged" woman who'd just stormed out in tears.
He was visibly torn.
His damned hero complex toward "fragile" women warred with his possessiveness toward me, his wife.
He was actually hesitating.
After learning I carried his child, after I'd exposed all his lies—he was still debating whether to chase after Savannah.
"Go ahead," I said, my voice hollow as a tomb.
"Fiona, I…" He closed his eyes in anguish.
"Go after her," I said coldly. "She looks so 'fragile,' so 'in need' of you. Just like all your other women."
"That's not—"
"I'm carrying your child." I cut him off, my hand protectively covering my abdomen. "Silas, choose now. Her or me."
I gave him one final chance.
Silas looked at me with tormented eyes. He stepped toward me, arms half-raised as if to embrace me.
Just then—
SCREECH! CRASH!
A piercing screech of metal against pavement followed by a deafening crash erupted from below the building!
It sounded like a truck slamming into concrete.
We both froze.
The blood drained from Silas's face.
He recovered first, rushing to the floor-to-ceiling window.
He peered down at the chaos of emergency lights below.
His body began to shake uncontrollably.
"No…" The sound that escaped him was primal, disbelieving.
He whipped around to face me, his eyes wild with shock, fear, and something else—a panic I couldn't quite place.
"It's Savannah," he choked out, as if invisible hands were crushing his throat.
"Her car… God… there's been an accident."
