Chapter 243

Emily's POV

My eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the soft afternoon light filtering through the curtains. The familiar ceiling of our bedroom came into focus. I was lying in bed, still wearing the clothes from this morning.

Wait. I'd been in the car. We were driving back from the shopping center, and I'd closed my eyes for just a moment...

Stefan must have carried me inside.

My hand moved instinctively to my stomach. Flat. Unchanged. But I knew. The pregnancy test didn't lie. Six to eight weeks.

I needed to tell him. Today. Now.

The door opened quietly. Stefan appeared, carrying a glass of water, his expression careful. Controlled.

"You're awake," he said, crossing to the bed. He sat on the edge, close enough that I could smell his cologne—cedar and something darker. "Drink this."

I pushed myself up against the pillows, accepting the glass. My fingers trembled slightly as they closed around the cool surface.

This was it. I had to tell him about the baby. About the impossibility of it. About—

"The doctor called," Stefan said quietly, cutting through my thoughts.

My breath caught. "What?"

"While you were sleeping. He wanted to make sure you were resting properly." His eyes searched my face. "Said your test results came back. That you need to take better care of yourself. Your energy levels are low."

Oh god. Did the doctor tell him everything?

"Stefan, I—"

"The baby is healthy, though." His voice was soft. Almost reverent. "He made sure to mention that."

The water glass nearly slipped from my hands.

He knew.

He already knew.

But how could he sound so... calm? So accepting? I'd seen his medical report. The one that said he was functionally infertile. The one that should make this pregnancy medically impossible.

Unless...

"How long have you known?" I whispered.

"Since this afternoon. James mentioned it at the shopping center." A muscle worked in his jaw. "Lydia told him. Apparently, she was excited for us."

My throat tightened. Of course Lydia had told someone. She'd been bursting with the news, even while trying to help me figure out how to explain it.

"I was going to tell you," I said quickly. "As soon as we got home. I just... I needed time to think about how to—"

"Emily." He took the water glass from my hands, setting it on the nightstand. Then he captured both my hands in his, his thumbs stroking across my knuckles. "There's something I need to tell you first."

The seriousness in his tone made my pulse spike.

"What is it?"

He was silent for a long moment, his eyes dropping to our joined hands. When he looked up again, there was something raw in his expression. Guilty. Afraid.

"That medical report you saw. The one about my... condition." He paused, his grip tightening slightly. "It wasn't real."

The words didn't make sense at first. I stared at him, my brain trying to process what he'd just said.

"What do you mean it wasn't real?"

"I mean I had it fabricated." His voice was steady, but I could hear the strain underneath. "The fertility issues were never mine, Emily. They were yours."

The room tilted.

No.

No, that couldn't be right.

"I don't understand," I managed. "Why would you—"

"Because you would have blamed yourself." His eyes were fierce now, almost desperate. "You were already carrying so much. The poison, the shortened lifespan they predicted, the revenge plan. I couldn't let you shoulder one more thing. Especially not when there was nothing you could have done about it."

My hands started shaking in his grasp. I tried to pull away, but he held firm.

"You let me think..." My voice cracked. "All this time, I thought you were the one who couldn't... And you just let me believe it?"

"I couldn't watch you tear yourself apart over something that wasn't your fault." His jaw clenched. "The doctors said it was a side effect of the poison. That it had damaged your reproductive system beyond repair. What good would it have done for you to know that?"

I thought of all the moments over the past year. All the times I'd caught him staring into space, looking exhausted. The way he'd brushed off my questions about his "treatments."

The way I'd secretly felt relieved that the problem wasn't mine.

Oh god.

"I let you carry that alone," I whispered. "I let you pretend to be sick when you were perfectly healthy. I even... I asked doctors about your condition. I researched treatments. And the whole time, it was me."

"You didn't let me do anything," Stefan said firmly. "This was my choice. I wanted to protect you."

"But I should have—"

"No." He released one of my hands to cup my face. "Emily, listen to me. You have spent years protecting everyone else. Your parents' memory. The victims of those who killed them. Even me, from my own father's schemes. For once, I wanted to be the one protecting you."

A tear slipped down my cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb, his touch achingly gentle.

"I'm sorry," I breathed. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that alone."

"Don't apologize." His voice was rough. "I'd do it again. A thousand times over."

I stared at him, trying to memorize every detail of his face. The sharp line of his jaw. The intensity in his dark eyes. The slight furrow between his brows that appeared when he was worried.

This man had carried my burden without complaint. Had let me think he was broken to spare me the pain of knowing I was.

"But now I'm pregnant," I said slowly. "Which means... what? The doctors were wrong? Or—"

"I don't know." He pressed his forehead against mine. "And I don't care. All that matters is that you're here. That you're healthy. That somehow, against all odds, we're going to have a family."

The emotion in his voice broke something open inside me. I leaned into him, wrapping my arms around his neck and burying my face in his shoulder.

He held me tight, one hand cradling the back of my head, the other spread across my back.

"Thank you," I whispered against his shirt. "For protecting me. For loving me enough to carry that weight."

"Always," he murmured into my hair. "I'll always protect you, Emily. You and our baby."