Chapter 242

Chapter 242
Stefan's POV

The private dining room was too quiet.

I could hear every scrape of silverware against porcelain, every breath, every moment of silence stretching between us. Emily sat across from me, her hands folded in her lap, staring at her untouched plate like it might bite her.

Lydia wouldn't look at me either.

Something was wrong. Something had happened at that hospital, and they were both keeping it from me.

I reached for my water glass, watched Emily's fingers tighten around her napkin. Her knuckles were white.

"Emily." I kept my voice gentle. "You haven't touched your food."

She glanced up. Her face was pale. Drawn. "I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat something."

"I can't." Her hand moved to her mouth. "The smell—it's making me nauseous."

I frowned, pushing my own plate aside. The food wasn't strong-smelling. Just grilled fish and vegetables. Nothing that should trigger—

Wait.

I looked closer. She was breathing through her mouth. Shallow. Controlled. Like she was fighting not to gag.

When had this started?

"Do you want me to order something else?" I asked. "Something lighter?"

"No." She shook her head quickly. Too quickly. "I just—I need to go home. Rest. Then we can talk."

Talk.

My chest tightened.

"Talk about what?"

Her eyes met mine. There was something in them I couldn't read. Fear? Guilt? Determination?

"Later," she said softly. "When I'm feeling better. There's something I need to tell you."

Fuck.

My mind went to the worst places immediately. Cancer. Another poison. Some complication from Norman's experiments that Harrison had just discovered.

Or maybe she wanted out. Maybe the hospital appointment had given her clarity. Made her realize she didn't want this marriage anymore.

I forced my hands to relax on the table. "Okay. We'll go home."

Lydia stood abruptly. "I should go. I just remembered—I have a thing. A meeting." She was talking too fast. "James wanted to discuss the script revisions tonight, and I totally forgot—"

"Lydia—" Emily started.

"It's fine! You guys go home. Rest. I'll call you tomorrow." She grabbed her purse, practically fled toward the door.

I stood to see her out, but she waved me off. "Don't worry about it! Feel better, Em!"

The door clicked shut.

Silence crashed back down.

I turned to Emily. She was staring at her lap, her breathing still careful and measured.

"Emily."

"I'm okay," she whispered. "Just tired."

Liar.

But I didn't push. Not yet.

I paid the bill, helped her into her coat, kept my hand on the small of her back as we walked to the car. She leaned into me slightly, and that small gesture made my throat tight.

Whatever she needed to tell me, we'd handle it. Together.

I just needed to get her home first.

---

The drive back was silent.

I gripped the steering wheel, trying not to glance at her every five seconds. But I couldn't help it. My eyes kept sliding to the passenger seat, where Emily had curled up with her head against the window.

Her face was still too pale. Her breathing too shallow.

The traffic light ahead turned yellow. I eased to a stop, used the pause to really look at her.

Her hand rested on her stomach. Protective. Unconscious.

My pulse kicked up.

"Do you need me to pull over?" I asked quietly.

"No." Her eyes stayed closed. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

"I will be. Once we're home."

Home. Our home. The place where she'd said she needed to tell me something important.

What the hell could it be?

I ran through possibilities as I drove. Each one worse than the last.

She was sick again. The poison was still in her system. She needed more treatment.

Or she wanted to leave. Realized I couldn't give her what she needed. Couldn't give her—

Children.

My hands tightened on the wheel.

Was that it? Had she finally decided she needed more than I could offer? A real family? A husband who could actually—

"Stefan."

Her voice was soft. Barely audible over the engine.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For coming to get us."

"Of course I came." My throat felt raw. "You weren't answering your phone. I was worried."

"I know. I'm sorry."

She shifted in her seat, and I noticed her eyes were still closed. Her face tilted toward the window.

Within minutes, her breathing evened out. She'd fallen asleep.

But even unconscious, her brow was furrowed. Like whatever was weighing on her wouldn't let her rest.

I reached over, adjusted the air conditioning so it wouldn't blow directly on her. She didn't stir.

What are you keeping from me, Emily?

---

I pulled into the shopping center parking lot about twenty minutes later. Emily was still asleep, her head lolled against the seat.

I killed the engine as quietly as I could, then reached into the back for the spare blanket I kept there. Spread it over her carefully, tucking it around her shoulders.

She made a small sound but didn't wake.

I sat there for a moment, just watching her.

Her hand was still on her stomach. Still protective.

That gesture kept nagging at me. Like my brain was trying to connect dots I couldn't quite see.

The nausea. The exhaustion. The way she'd looked at me in the restaurant when she said she had something to tell me.

No.

Don't go there.

I shook my head, pushed the thought away. Harrison had been clear about the antidote's effects. Emily couldn't—

She needed food. Something bland. Something that wouldn't make her feel worse.

I glanced at her one more time, made sure she was comfortable, then slipped out of the car.

The shopping center was mostly empty this time of evening. I headed for the entrance, already mentally cataloging what to get. Crackers. Ginger ale. Maybe some soup—

"Stefan!"

I turned.

James was walking toward me, his face lighting up with that easy grin he always wore.

Shit. I didn't have time for this.

"Hey," I said shortly, already moving to step around him.

He fell into step beside me. "Fancy seeing you here. I thought you'd be—"

"I'm just grabbing something quick." I kept walking. "Emily's not feeling well."

"Oh, yeah. Lydia mentioned that." He paused. Then his grin widened. "Congratulations, by the way."

I stopped walking.

"What?"

"On the baby!" He clapped my shoulder. "Lydia just told me. She's so excited for you guys. How are you feeling? Nervous? Terrified?"

The world stopped.

Baby.

Emily's baby.

No. That couldn't be right. She thinks I'm the one who can't—

"What did you say?" My voice came out strangled.

James's smile faltered slightly. "About... the baby? Emily's pregnant, right? Lydia said—"

Pregnant.

The word slammed into me.

Emily was pregnant.

But Harrison said the antidote would— She shouldn't be able to—

Oh god.

She saw that fake report. She thinks I'm infertile. She thinks the baby can't be mine.

My chest constricted. I couldn't breathe.

She's going to think she cheated. Or that someone else— No. No, there's never been anyone else. But she doesn't know that I know. She thinks she has to explain how she got pregnant when her husband is supposedly sterile.

"Stefan? You okay, man? You look—"

"I'm fine." The lie tasted like ash. "I have to go."

I turned and walked back toward the parking lot. My legs felt numb. Disconnected.

Pregnant.

Emily was carrying my child.

Our child.

But she doesn't know that. She thinks it's impossible. She thinks I can't—

Fuck.

What have I done?

I reached the car, gripped the door handle to steady myself.

Through the window, I could see Emily still sleeping. One hand curled under her cheek. The other resting on her stomach.

On our baby.

She's terrified right now. Trying to figure out how to tell me. How to explain something she thinks is medically impossible.

And it's my fault. Because I lied to her. Because I showed her that goddamn fake report.

I pressed my forehead against the cool glass.

I should tell her the truth. Right now. Wake her up and explain everything. Tell her the baby is mine. That I've always been able to—

But then she'd know.

She'd know about the antidote. About what it did to her. About the choice I made without her consent.

And she'd never forgive me.

My hands were shaking.

I had to fix this. Had to figure out how to tell her the baby was mine without revealing the rest of it. Without destroying the trust between us.

But how?

How the hell was I supposed to do that?