Doctor Sere came a week later, along with her doctors bag.
Lucien and Eliàn both sat on a sofa while she brought out a pregnancy test kit then gave Eliàn a small bottle with the cap.
"Urinate inside the bottle then cover it immediately you're done and come back here."
Eliàn stood up and went to the bathroom, Lucien behind him.
Lucien gave him a bottle of water to drink, few minutes later he urinated while Lucien stood by the door.
They both came back, Eliàn handed the bottle over to Dr Sere. She took out some strips and placed them inside the bottle.
Ten minutes later, she checked the strips and it all showed two bold lines.
She then turned to Lucien, "He's pregnant, here are the strips" then handed them over to Lucien. He collected them and saw what she said was true.
"I'll be back in a few weeks from now to do a checkup on him and make sure he's still pregnant," and with that she left. While Lucien went to his study.
Eliàn still remained on the sofa. The air had already left his lungs. Pregnant. Again.
After the confirmation, Lucien moved Eliàn into the master bedroom, citing the need to "watch over him better."
Just as Dr Sere said, she came back in a sleek black car with tinted windows and no license plate. She entered the house through the back, past the guards and cameras, escorted by Wite. No introductions were made. Just a brief nod between men who understood what silence bought.
Eliàn sat in the Velvet lounge of the upstairs parlor, a pale robe wrapped around him. His legs were crossed, his fingers twined tightly in his lap like he was holding himself together.
The room smelled like roses again.
Lucien leaned against the wall, arms folded, wearing the same pleased expression he wore whenever something valuable had been acquired. A new painting. A custom gun. A lover in pain.
Dr. Sere's tools were neatly arranged on a silver tray, gloves, scanner, tiny vials. No bedside manner. No name. Just efficiency.
Eliàn didn't speak. He barely blinked as the woman applied cool gel to his abdomen and pressed the scanner to his skin.
Silence stretched thin.
And then...
"There's a faint heartbeat," Dr. Sere said softly. "Around six weeks now."
Eliàn exhaled slowly. No surprise. No relief.
Just confirmation.
Lucien smirked.
It was the worst thing in the room.
"I told you," Lucien said, coming forward now. "I knew it would take. That night was..." He let the words trail off in a slow, satisfied exhale. "Perfect."
She removed the scanner and wiped Eliàn's stomach with a warm cloth. She gave a quick report, vital signs, estimated due date, supplements. Lucien nodded along, too pleased to pretend this was news to him.
When the doctor was done, Lucien paid her with a firm handshake and a black envelope. The woman left as quietly as she came.
The room was still.
Lucien sat beside Eliàn on the couch, resting a hand on his thigh. "You should be proud of your body," he said. "Even after all that damage. The past abortions. The miscarriages. I honestly thought you were broken."
Eliàn stared at the space between them.
Lucien laughed, dark, gentle and condescending. "But you're not. You're just fragile. Needed the right handling. The right timing. The right... encouragement."
He brushed Eliàn's hair back from his face.
"You were fighting me, you know. That night," Lucien said, almost in a whisper now, like a bedtime story. "You were angry. Screaming. Crying. Telling me not to touch you. You even slapped me. All because I deliberately didn't use condoms."
Eliàn flinched.
Lucien smirked wider. "But I knew you didn't mean it. You were just scared. Lost. You always say no when you mean yes."
He paused, like he was reliving the moment. "So I helped you relax. A little something in your wine. Just enough to make your body forget how to resist."
His thumb rubbed slow circles over Eliàn's thigh.
"And look what came of it. A child. Our child."
Eliàn wanted to scream.
But his throat was dry. His lips wouldn't move.
Lucien tilted his chin up. "You'll see. This is good. The start of everything new. A family, Eliàn. That's what you said you wanted."
No, Eliàn thought. That's what you said I wanted. What you carved into my mouth until I said it back.
But out loud, he said nothing.
His eyes drifted to the window, past the gardens, past the walls. Somewhere beyond this mansion, the world kept turning. Cars moved. Children played. Free people made choices.
But in here, time sat heavy.
"You'll rest this week," Lucien continued, voice lilting like he was already planning the nursery. "No stress. No arguments. And then we'll celebrate. I'll throw a dinner. Invite only the ones who matter."
Eliàn still didn't answer.
Lucien finally stood. "You need anything, call me."
When the door shut behind him, Eliàn exhaled for the first time in minutes.
He pressed a hand to his abdomen, flat, silent, foreign.
Inside, something was growing.
But in the wreckage of his body, nothing felt alive.
Only numbness.
And dread.