I stared at the test strip in my hand.
Positive.
There was no mistaking the double line now. I had taken three more just to be sure, all different brands, like maybe one of them would grant me a different fate. But they all screamed the same truth.
I was pregnant. With Elias's child.
My legs gave out beneath me and I collapsed on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. The air was thick. The silence screamed.
I wasn't ready. I had never even wanted this.
Not like this.
Not under threats and guilt and lies and stolen touches that should've never happened.
I thought of Lila. Her laughter. Her glowing face whenever she mentioned Elias. The man she thought was falling for her. The man who couldn't take his eyes off me.
And I'd let him.
No, worse—I wanted him too.
The shame burned more than the fear. I'd betrayed my best friend. I'd betrayed myself.
I picked myself up, washed my face, and stared at my reflection.
"This ends now."
---
Later that evening
I walked the familiar path to Elias's penthouse. Each step felt heavier, like the city was folding around me, squeezing me toward a single inevitable moment.
I was going to tell him.
That this… thing between us was over.
That I didn't care about the photos.
That I'd leave if I had to.
That I wanted my life back.
But the second I entered his place, the air shifted. He was already standing by the tall windows, suit jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up, glass of something dark in his hand.
He didn't look surprised to see me.
Only amused.
"I was wondering how long it would take you," Elias said, not even looking up. "You've been avoiding me, Luna. That's not very polite."
"I don't care," I said, barely able to keep my voice steady. "This… whatever this is, it has to stop."
He turned then, his dark gaze pinning me to the spot like a knife against silk. "You're shaking," he said softly, setting down the glass and walking slowly toward me. "But you still came. Why?"
I took a breath. "I'm pregnant."
That stopped him.
Just for a second. His eyes flared, but then he smiled—slow, satisfied, like I'd just handed him the world on a silver platter.
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"Perfect."
I stumbled back a step. "I'm not keeping it. I have options. And you can't stop me."
He didn't move. Not yet. "You think I'd let you walk around with my child inside you and decide it doesn't exist?"
"It's not your decision!"
"Oh, Luna," he breathed, taking another step toward me, "you still don't understand." His hand reached for something on the table—a manila folder. He opened it slowly. My breath caught.
Photos.
Me. At his place. In his bed. His arms. Every vulnerable second, immortalized on glossy paper.
"I never planned to show them," Elias said. "They're mine. My reminders. My trophies. But if you try to run, if you try to disappear—these won't stay hidden."
I felt sick.
"You're blackmailing me with my own shame?"
"I'm not blackmailing you," he said gently, stepping so close I could feel the warmth of him. "I'm protecting you—from yourself."
He reached for me, placed a hand over my belly.
"I will not let you go. You're mine now. You were mine the moment you walked into that hospital and begged to know who your donor was. You just didn't realize it yet."
My voice broke. "You're insane."
He tilted my chin up, brushing a thumb over my trembling lip. "Only about you."
Then he whispered, "You're not going anywhere, Luna. Not ever again."
--