Chapter 38
“I want to make your favorite corn chowder every morning. Help you organize all those sponsorship files. Even join forces to buy Oliver that expensive shampoo he despises.”
His voice dropped to a whisper. “Unless you’d prefer not to…”
I pressed a smooth stone against his temple. “I’d love that.”
Nobody had ever waited for me like this before.
Maybe it was the ocean breeze. Maybe it was the moonlight. I found myself kissing the edge of his mouth.
His arms locked around me. We stumbled together, falling into the soft sand in a laughing heap.
Oliver padded back on silent paws, sniffing our intertwined fingers with feline curiosity.
Sebastian laughed, scratching under the cat’s chin. “No more canned tuna without Papa’s approval.”
No wedding plans. No grand promises.
We had all the time in the world.
Meanwhile, Benjamin had gotten another woman pregnant.
The hospital corridor smelled of antiseptic and stale warmth. Benjamin leaned against the wall, waiting nervously.
He couldn’t believe it. Isabella had just lost her baby. Now Victoria was expecting.
Victoria emerged from the examination room, clutching an ultrasound printout. A faint smile played on her lips.
“Well?” William asked from his wheelchair. His health had deteriorated since his last major illness.
Victoria knelt gracefully beside him. She unfolded the paper across his lap. “The doctor says everything looks perfect. Six weeks along.” She pointed at the grainy image. “See those tiny buds? Those will become arms and legs.”
At this stage, it was impossible to distinguish any features.
William traced the ultrasound photo with trembling fingers. “Excellent. Truly excellent.”
He never imagined having another grandchild at his age. “Benjamin, come look at your little brother.”
Benjamin’s throat tightened.
He bent stiffly, glancing at the blurred black-and-white image.
That indistinct shadow felt like a bad omen. Cold dread crept up his spine.
Was this child his? Or his father’s?
“Don’t overexcite yourself,” Victoria said soothingly, rubbing William’s shoulder. “The doctor insisted you need calm.” She gazed up at Benjamin, her eyes deceptively gentle. “Benjamin will take excellent care of us, won’t you?”
Benjamin’s head pounded.
“Yes.” His voice came out rough and strained. “I’ll… take care of you.”
This child couldn’t be his.
That night, Benjamin sat alone in his room. He stared at his phone screen, secretly browsing my social media.
I had posted a new picture. It showed Sebastian’s back as he cooked in our kitchen. The caption read: “Home.”
The screen reflected his distorted face. Bloodshot eyes rimmed with exhaustion.
He couldn’t accept how quickly I had moved on. As if our decade together meant nothing.
The door opened softly.
Victoria entered carrying herbal tea. Her silk robe clung to a newly visible curve.
“Your father’s asleep.” She set the cup down, letting her fingers graze his hand. “The doctor says stress is bad for the baby.”
Benjamin shot to his feet. “What do you actually want?”
Victoria calmly wiped a drop of spilled liquor from her robe. “I want my child to legally carry the Sterling name.”
She continued smoothly. “Besides, you always wanted children. When Isabella couldn’t conceive, you blamed her constantly. You even found another woman to bear your child. Now that Isabella miscarried, I’m pregnant. Shouldn’t you be happy?”
Benjamin stared at her in horror. “Wait. Is this child really mine?”