Chapter 220 Never Normal
“I’m so happy for you, darling,” Stacy said, a broad smile lighting up her face as she looked at Genesis, who was positively radiant, beaming back at her.
“I’m so happy too. I still can’t believe it’s actually happening,” Genesis replied, her hand drifting to her still-flat stomach. Somehow, though, she swore she could already feel the faintest swell beginning.
“You’re damn right it’s happening,” Calista cut in, “but we’re just as gutted that you won’t be dancing anymore. You deserved that role.”
Genesis nodded, a flicker of sadness crossing her eyes. She would miss the stage until after the baby arrived, yet deep down a quiet relief stirred, she wouldn’t have to perform that solo with Jaden after everything that had happened. The memory of it still gnawed at her.
“But the baby comes first,” Calista added, her voice brightening with mishief. “And you won’t believe who snagged your part.”
Genesis glanced between them, brow furrowing. Her first guess was Melanie, but the giddy smiles on her friends’ faces told her it couldn’t be.
“Me,” Stacy blurted, practically bouncing.
“Oh my God!” Genesis squealed. She lunged forward, pulling Stacy into a fierce hug. They clung to each other, giggling into one another’s necks, and when they finally pulled apart, Genesis’s eyes were already glistening.
“I’m so happy for you,” she whispered earnestly. “You’re the one who truly deserves to shine.” Then she turned to Calista. “Both of you.”
Her friends beamed, but a sudden thought tugged at Genesis’s heart, a strange, guilty relief. If Stacy was taking the solo, that meant Jaden was all right. Whatever had happened to his hand couldn’t have been too serious.
Though she still couldn’t shake the memory of that nail driving clean through his palm.
“So,” she began carefully, “you’ll be dancing it with Jaden, right? And… how is he? I haven’t had a chance to see him or apologize for what happened.”
Stacy and Calista exchanged a loaded glance. Genesis’s stomach plummeted.
“What is it?”
Stacy turned to her, smile gone. “Jaden isn’t my partner. It’s Leroy now. Since that day… he hasn’t been cleared to use that hand. In fact, they’re not sure he’ll ever dance again.”
The words hit Genesis like ice water. She froze, every muscle locking as the room seemed to tilt.
“W-what do you mean?” Her voice came out small, barely a breath.
“The nail went too deep—straight through the knuckles,” Stacy said softly, all earlier excitement extinguished. “It severed tendons, shattered bone. The surgeons did everything they could, but the damage is permanent. He can’t grip properly, can’t fully extend his fingers. Ballet’s over for him. For good.”
Calista reached over and squeezed Genesis’s hand. “He hasn’t been back to the studio since. No one’s seen him. His scholarship’s on hold… probably gone.”
The blood drained from Genesis’s face. A dull roar filled her ears. All she could hear was Jaden’s raw, animal scream that day—the sickening thud of his fist against the wall, the hot spray of blood across the floor.
It was her fault.
She’d pulled away. She’d let Kieran drag her out. She’d stayed silent while he whispered whatever venom had pushed Jaden over the edge.
“I… I didn’t know it was that bad,” she whispered, voice cracking. Her hand drifted to her stomach again, but this time the gesture felt heavy—protective, ashamed, as if shielding her unborn child from the guilt now coursing through her.
Stacy’s eyes softened. “Gen, it wasn’t your fault. Everyone knows Jaden crossed a line. He grabbed you. After the kiss, the rumors—he should’ve known better.”
Calista nodded. “And your husband… well, he’s terrifying. We all saw it. No one blames you.”
But Genesis blamed herself.
For freezing. For not screaming at Kieran to stop. For letting the darkness in him win that day.
Stacy noticed the distant look in her eyes. “You okay?”
Genesis forced a shaky smile. “Yeah. Just… a lot.”
Calista leaned closer, voice gentle. “Hey. You’re having a baby. You’re glowing. Don’t let this drag you down. Jaden made his own choices.”
Genesis nodded, but the words rang hollow.
Then the front door opened.
She turned, eyes widening as strangers in medical scrubs wheeled in monitors, ventilators, and sleek equipment cases. Confusion flooded her. She rose from the couch just as Kieran appeared behind them, murmuring instructions to one of the nurses. Sensing her gaze, he looked up. She stared at him in silent question, taking a hesitant step forward—only for a familiar voice to stop her cold.
“Genesis!”
Amelia—pale, trembling, still in her hospital gown—rushed toward her and threw herself into Genesis’s arms.
“He tried to kill me,” Amelia sobbed into her neck, voice breaking. “He tried to kill me and take my baby.”
Genesis stood frozen in shock and worry, arms tightening around her friend. She lifted her gaze to find Kieran stepping inside, his expression unreadable.
Their eyes locked across the room—neither spoke. Genesis just held a weeping Amelia, the world tilting once again.
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“How is the baby?” Genesis asked softly, her fingers still gently stroking Amelia’s hair as the woman slept fitfully on the guest-room bed. Amelia’s face looked ghostly pale under the dim lamp, dark circles carved deep beneath her eyes. It had taken hours—warm tea, quiet reassurances, the steady beep of monitors—to finally coax her into uneasy sleep.
Dr. Patel glanced up from the chart, exhaustion etched around his eyes. He’d just emerged from the newly converted neonatal suite across the hall.
“Stable,” he said quietly, careful not to wake her. “Remarkably so, given the stress of transport. Oxygen saturation holding at ninety-four percent on the ventilator. Heart rate steady. He’s still fighting, just as he has been. This home setup is state-of-the-art—better than most hospital NICUs, honestly. Continuous monitoring, heated high-flow, full resuscitation gear. Three neonatal nurses on eight-hour rotations, plus a respiratory therapist on site twenty-four seven. I’ll be here daily until he’s stronger.”
Genesis nodded, a fraction of the knot in her chest loosening. “Thank you. Truly—for everything.”
Dr. Patel offered a tired but genuine smile. “Your husband doesn’t do anything halfway, Mrs. Blackwood. That little boy is in the safest possible place right now.”
He glanced at Amelia’s sleeping form. “She’ll need rest. And therapy. After what happened today…” He trailed off; he didn’t need to finish.
Genesis swallowed hard. “I know.”
With a quiet nod, Dr. Patel slipped out, pulling the door almost closed behind him.
Silence settled over the room like a heavy blanket.
Genesis lingered on the edge of the bed a moment longer, watching Amelia’s face twitch in restless dreams, dried tear tracks glistening on her cheeks.
Finally she stood, legs stiff, and turned—to find Kieran leaning against the opposite wall. Arms crossed, suit jacket discarded, white shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, shadows clinging to the sharp lines of his face.
They stared at each other across the dim hallway.
Genesis looked away first. Every part of her ached to run into his arms, to let his familiar warmth seep into her bones, to hear him promise the world wasn’t crumbling. But she didn’t. Instead she headed straight for the door, intending to brush past him.
Kieran frowned. Before she could escape, his hand shot out and caught her wrist—gentle, but firm enough that she couldn’t ignore it.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, confusion and quiet worry threading his voice. He’d sensed the distance hours ago, the way she’d refused to meet his eyes since he’d returned.
He stepped closer, sliding his other arm around her waist from behind. He pressed his face into the curve of her neck, inhaling deeply, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. But not all of it—she was rigid beneath his touch, and that kept him coiled tight.
“What’s wrong, princess?” he murmured, tilting his head to study her profile. “Why won’t you look at me?”
Slowly she turned in his arms. The moment he saw the tears brimming in her eyes, every ounce of tension flooded back into him.
He turned her fully toward him, his eyes frantic as they searched her face. “What’s wrong, baby? Why are you crying?”
The moment he said the word crying, the dam broke. Tears spilled hot and fast down her cheeks, and she shattered.
“This isn’t a life, Kieran,” she choked out, vision blurring behind the flood. “Can we really keep living like this?”
She glanced toward the guest room where Amelia slept. “They’re not supposed to be here. That baby should be in a hospital, getting proper care like any other newborn.”
Kieran’s hands cupped her face gently, thumbs sweeping beneath her eyes to catch the tears. “But he is getting proper care here, princess.”
Genesis looked up at him, then pushed his hands away and took a shaky step back. Kieran stepped forward instinctively, but she lifted a trembling palm to stop him.
“No.” Her voice cracked like thin ice. “This is us hiding our family from people who want to harm us. That’s not the life I want—a life where I can’t step outside without bodyguards shadowing my every move to protect me from your enemies.” She jabbed a finger toward him, then pressed her hand to her own chest. “And from my stepfamily, who still haven’t paid for what they did. The constant fear that if they find out I’m pregnant, they’ll come after me.”
“No one will dare touch—”
“No. Don’t come closer.” She shook her head fiercely. “Don’t you see it? This isn’t the life I want for us—for me—for our baby.” Her free hand settled protectively over her stomach. “It could be me and our child in that position next. I don’t want to bring a baby into a world where I’ll live in terror every time they leave my sight. Where I’ll dread sending them to school because someone might try to take them—or worse, succeed, right from a hospital bed.”
“I don’t want that,” she whispered, voice breaking. “I want a normal life. A life without—”
“Without me.”
Genesis’s eyes flew wide. She stared up at him, red-rimmed and raw. “What?”
“This is my life, Genesis.” His voice was low, steady, mercilessly honest. “There will always be people who hate me. Who want me dead. But I’ll kill every last one of them—starting with Bishop and your stepfamily. Still… our life will never be normal.”
The words hung heavy between them like smoke after a gunshot.
Our life will never be normal.
Her chest heaved too fast. Tears still slipped free, but now they burned with something sharper—anger, fear, bone-deep exhaustion braided together.
She took another step back, palm still cradling her stomach like a shield.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” she whispered, voice trembling yet resolute. “I don’t want to raise our child inside a fortress, Kieran. I don’t want them growing up knowing every stranger could be a threat. I don’t want to flinch every time the phone rings or the gate buzzes. I don’t want to teach our baby to look over their shoulder before they’ve even learned to walk.”
Kieran’s jaw flexed, the muscle ticking hard enough to see. He stayed rooted this time, hands loose at his sides, but his eyes—God, those dark, stormy eyes—flared with something perilously close to panic.
“You think I want that?” His voice was rough gravel. “You think I enjoy knowing men are out there plotting to hurt you just to get to me? You think I like dragging blood across our threshold?”
Genesis shook her head, tears falling faster. “No. But you chose this life long before you ever chose me.”
The words struck like a slap.
Kieran flinched—actually flinched—the first time she’d ever seen him recoil.
Silence stretched, thick and suffocating.
Then he spoke, quieter than she’d ever heard him.
“I didn’t choose anything before you,” he said. “Everything before you was just… surviving. You’re the first thing I ever truly chose, Genesis. The only thing.”
He took one cautious step forward, slow, as if she might bolt.
“I can’t undo who I am. I can’t erase the enemies I made before I even knew your name. But I swear—on every breath in my body, on our child—I will burn them all to ash until no one left dares even look at you wrong.”
Genesis’s throat tightened painfully. “And then what? There’ll always be someone new. Power like yours… it attracts monsters.”
He didn’t deny it. The truth sat heavy in the air between them.
She pressed on, voice splintering. “I love you. God help me, I love you more than I thought it was possible to love anyone. But I’m scared, Kieran. I’m scared every single day. And now there’s this tiny life inside me, and I’m terrified I’m bringing them into a war that will never end.”
In two strides he closed the distance—but he didn’t touch her. Instead, he sank slowly to his knees before her, until he was gazing up at her with raw vulnerability.
“Then let me end it,” he rasped. “Let me finish it. Bishop. Your stepfamily. Every name on every list. I’ll erase them—one by one—until the only thing left in this world that can hurt you is time itself.”
Tears dripped from her chin onto his upturned face.
“And when it’s done?” she whispered. “When the last body is cold… will you stop? Will you walk away from it all?”
His silence was answer enough.
She closed her eyes, a fresh wave of sorrow crashing over her.
“I don’t know if I can live like this forever,” she breathed, so softly it was nearly lost. “Waiting for the next threat. The next hospital room. The next time you come home with blood on your hands.”
Kieran’s head bowed. Those broad, unbreakable shoulders curved inward, as if her words had finally landed a blow too heavy to bear.
When he looked up again, his eyes glistened.
“Then tell me what you need,” he rasped. “Tell me how to fix this. Because the only thing I can’t survive… is losing you.”
Genesis’s hand shook as she reached out, fingertips brushing the sharp line of his cheek.
“I need you to try,” she said quietly. “Not just to kill them all. I need you to try to build something else. Something safe. Something ours. Even if it feels impossible… I need to believe you’ll try.”
Kieran turned his face into her palm, pressing a fierce, reverent kiss to its center—like a vow sealed in skin.
“I’ll try,” he murmured against her hand. “For you. For our baby. I’ll try until I bleed out trying.”
Genesis sank to her knees in front of him, carpet biting into her skin. She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder as fresh tears soaked through his shirt.
He held her then, tight, almost desperate—like she was the only tether keeping him from unraveling completely.
They stayed there on the floor, wrapped around each other: two broken people clinging to the fragile hope that they could hold the pieces together long enough to build something new.