I’d hoped that Daniel would be there so he too could bear witness to the madness of his mother.Judging by his reaction, it seemed to hit him harder than it did Darren.Either way, the seed had been planted, and regardless of what either of them said, the effects of the truth would take root.
I just didn’t know what those roots would inevitably sprout into.
Preferably something I could bludgeon them with.
But there was one small silver lining that I might still be able to use to hang them all with, assuming I ever found the right opportunity to do so.
Darren clearly did not want the information about his mother reaching anyone else's ears.
According to him, the fears of a potential uprising were a very real possibility.If someone were to allow such a dangerous “rumor” to spread, I might end up with a far better outcome than I had originally anticipated.
I would have to keep my eyes open for the opportunity to send out that flare that could create one hell of a forest fire that Darren might actually struggle to extinguish.
Lying still, I tried to feel every inch of my body, from the tips of my toes all the way to the top of my head.I didn’t feel any different.Aside from the occasional nausea, I didn’t even feel pregnant.
Whatever unlucky life now growing inside me was keeping itself hidden from me as best it could, staying in the shadows where it was still safe.That could just be the denial still talking, though.
Would it be a boy or a girl?Blue or hazel eyes?What if it was a boy with red hair?Would Darren be mad?Male redheads always suffered an unfair stigma for some reason.People didn’t seem to like red hair on men as they did on women, and it was such bullshit.Boys got bullied so much harder in school because kids thought they looked weird.
I had a friend in elementary school who actually had to switch schools because he was bullied so bad for his red hair.I tried to tell him to just beat the shit out of them, but he wouldn’t listen.
And then it made me wonder even more—would our child even grow up to have bullies?Would they be allowed to socialize with other kids?Make friends?Or would they just have private tutors for their whole lives?
If we had a daughter, would Darren just discard her completely?Just ignore her until she was grown enough to marry her off to someone who was just as awful as he was?Would he at least spare her the same torture he’d endured as a child?
Boy or girl, it clearly didn’t matter.Their future was already decided for them, and it was full of nothing but anguish.And right now, there wasn’t shit I could do to stop it.
The bedroom door suddenly opened, my eyes latching onto the sound of anything other than the noise of my wretched breathing.Sloane entered the room, her gunmetal eyes warming with sympathy as they grazed over my limp form.
She sighed quietly to herself as she approached, scratching the side of her buzzed scalp where her Japanese dragon tattoo snarled at me.
“Your husband would like you to join him and the rest of the family for dinner in twenty minutes,” she informed me, her Russian accent particularly heavy today.
I cocked a lazy brow at her, surprised by the sheepish demeanor in informing me of my apparent evening plans.
“The rest of the family, huh?”I mumbled, completely disinterested.As much as I would love to see Katherine right now, the idea of having to tolerate Darren’s presence soured the entire thing.“I think I’d rather eat alone.Again.”
Her lips tightened before she shook her head.“It’s not a request,” she replied, regret lingering in her tone as she reached out to unlock the chains from the cuffs on my wrists.
When all four of my limbs were free, I sat up and stretched my back with a dramatic yawn.
“Of course it isn’t,” I murmured, then hopped off the bed and headed for the bathroom.
As I stood in front of the mirror to tidy up my hair, Sloane lingered in the doorway, her eyes gliding over me with an odd look of uncertainty.I glanced over at her for a split second, then returned to brushing my hair.
“Something up?”I asked her, wincing as the brush caught on a seriously painful knot.
“You’re unhappy about the baby,” she stated plainly, her soft gaze lingering over my stomach.“Why?”
“Because I didn’t get to choose it,” I replied, my tone flavored by a bitter taste as I stated what I thought was obvious.“It was forced onto me under false pretenses.”
Sloane’s brows knitted together in confusion as she watched me braid my hair into a loose braid down the side of my neck.
“Why would he need to go to such lengths?Do you not want children?”
Her Russian accent hinted at the concern she was clearly trying not to voice with her words.It seemed she didn’t understand why a husband’s wife would be unhappy about having his children.
“I don’t want to havehischildren,” I answered bluntly as I tied a small rubber band around the end of the braid, then grabbed my toothbrush to quickly brush my teeth.