Chapter 91

Chapter 91
Violet's POV:

I woke to voices pulling me from darkness, my eyelids heavy as I forced them open against the soft glow of overhead lights.

"She's fourteen weeks along," the doctor was saying, his voice carrying the careful neutrality of someone delivering complicated news. "But the situation isn't ideal. Her HCG levels are lower than they should be, and fetal development is slower than expected for this stage. The fainting episode was likely due to a combination of physical weakness and emotional stress."

The words hit me like ice water, each clinical phrase hammering home the precariousness of my situation.

The doctor stepped out, and the door closed with a soft click. I turned my head to find Evan settling into the chair beside my bed, his green eyes meeting mine with an intensity that made my chest tighten.

"Evan," I managed, my voice rough and scratchy.

He responded with a single nod, his jaw working as he seemed to wrestle with where to begin, his lips parting and closing twice before he finally spoke. "It's Daemon's, isn't it?"

There was no point in denying it. "Yes," I said simply.

Evan's expression shifted through several emotions—disappointment, barely suppressed fury, before settling into grim resignation. He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his knees, and when he spoke again, his voice carried an edge I'd rarely heard from him. "Why didn't you tell him? You're carrying his child, Violet. You let him stand beside another woman while you're here pregnant with his daughter. Is your sense of martyrdom really that well-developed?"

"I found out after the rejection," I said carefully, pushing myself up against the pillows despite the lingering weakness in my limbs. "After the bond was already severed. I want this baby, Evan. But I don't want to continue the relationship with Daemon. Those two things aren't mutually exclusive."

"They're not—" He cut himself off, rising from the chair with enough force that it scraped backward, his hands curling into fists. "Do you hear yourself right now? You want to keep his child but not be with him. Fine. But have you thought about what that means for the baby? A child isn't a toy, Violet. It's a life. If you bring her into this world, you're responsible for her—not just financially, but emotionally, politically. You're choosing to make her fatherless. You're choosing single parenthood. Have you actually considered that?"

"I know," I interrupted, my voice sharper than intended. "I know what I'm choosing. I've thought about this, and I'm not going to regret it."

For a moment we just stared at each other, tension crackling between us.

"Celeste's stabilizing. In a few days, they're moving her to Northern Summit Pack's clinic to wait for the transplant." He paused. "Are you really prepared to do this alone?"

My hands curled into fists, nails biting into my palms. My eyes burned with tears I refused to let fall. "Did you ask the doctor," I said, my voice hoarse, "whether I'd ever be able to get pregnant again if I lose this baby?"

The question landed like a bomb. I watched Evan's face transform—shock first, followed by dawning comprehension and something that looked almost like horror. "What?" The word came out barely above a whisper.

I drew in a shaky breath, feeling one tear escape despite my best efforts. "This might be the only child I'll ever have, Evan," I said, each word carefully enunciated. "My body—the damage from years of suppressed wolf nature, the hormonal disruption, the physical stress—it's all caught up with me. If I lose this pregnancy, my chances of conceiving again drop to almost nothing."

The silence stretched as Evan processed this, his medical mind immediately understanding the implications. When he finally moved, it was to reach out and brush away the tear on my cheek with surprising gentleness, then exhale a long, shuddering breath. "Violet," he said quietly, all anger gone from his voice. "I'm sorry."

Before either of us could say more, my phone buzzed insistently on the bedside table. Evan glanced at the screen. "Aiden. He's called three times."

I accepted the phone with dread, and when I answered, Aiden's voice came through sharp and worried. "Violet, what the hell is going on? You are in hosital again?"

We went back and forth, his questions growing more pointed, his protective instincts escalating, until finally I couldn't deflect anymore. The words escaped before I could stop them. "I'm pregnant."

The silence that followed was absolute. "You're..." Aiden's voice had gone very quiet, very careful. "Pregnant. With Daemon's child."

"Yes. And I'm keeping the baby, I'm not telling Daemon, and I'm going to raise her on my own."

"Violet—" His voice shifted into something harder, more authoritative. "You can't keep this secret. This involves the family. Either you tell Mom and Dad yourself, or I will. You need to find the right time and tell them soon. That's not negotiable."

The ultimatum hit hard, but I knew he was right. "I will," I said finally. "I'll handle it myself."

After we ended the call, Aiden insisted I take time off work to recover properly. I spent several days in the hospital under observation before being discharged with strict orders to avoid stress and maintain bed rest. Aiden made it clear I wasn't to return to the office immediately—I needed to stay home and focus on stabilizing my condition.

So I found myself back at my apartment, moving slowly as I tried to follow doctor's orders. I'd arranged for grocery delivery since I couldn't exactly go shopping in my weakened state, ordering simple, nutritious ingredients that wouldn't trigger my increasingly sensitive stomach.

When the doorbell rang, I assumed it was the delivery service and went to answer it without checking the peephole. But when I opened the door, the person standing there wasn't a delivery driver at all.

Celeste Morrison stood in my hallway, looking pale and noticeably thinner than when I'd last seen her, with Riley hovering protectively at her shoulder. In Riley's hands was the grocery bag I'd been expecting. Celeste's delicate features arranged themselves into an expression of gentle concern as she gestured to the bag. "Violet, this is yours, isn't it? We ran into your delivery person downstairs and thought we'd bring it up for you."

Riley set the bag down with obvious disdain, her expression broadcasting exactly what she thought of doing favors for me.

I reached for the bag, preparing to close the door without engaging, when Riley's voice cut through. "Not even a thank you? What, are you mute now?"

Celeste placed a gentle hand on Riley's arm, her voice soft and concerned. "Riley, Violet's just gotten out of the hospital herself. She's not feeling well. Don't push her."

My stomach dropped. She knows I was hospitalized. But how much did she know? Did she know about the pregnancy, or just that I'd been admitted?

Celeste continued before I could process fully, her tone dripping with false sympathy. "Violet, you're alone here in Silver Ridge, so far from your family. Please don't push yourself too hard. Overwork and stress can really damage your health."

Riley muttered just loud enough to be heard, "Celeste, you're too kind to someone like her. Does she even deserve your concern?"

At that moment, the door across the hall opened, and Kael emerged, his expression shifting to awkward surprise as he took in the scene—me standing exhausted in my doorway, Celeste looking fragile and sympathetic, Riley radiating hostility.

"Oh," Kael said, clearly caught off guard. "I didn't realize... is everything okay?"

Celeste turned to him with a delicate smile. "We were just helping Violet with her delivery. I'm staying nearby now—my condition's improved enough that I don't need constant hospital monitoring, and Daemon thought it would be better if I came here to be close to him while we wait for the transplant arrangements. His work has him based in Silver Ridge for now."

Riley couldn't resist adding with barely concealed glee, "He wants her close to him. You know what they say—absence makes the heart grow fonder. When you're apart, you realize who really matters." Her eyes flicked to me with obvious satisfaction.

So Daemon moved her here to be near him, I thought.

Kael's attention shifted to me, concern evident in his features. "Violet, I heard you were hospitalized too. What happened? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I said, keeping my voice even and detached. "Just work stress. Pushed myself too hard. You all have a good evening." I started to close the door, but Kael's next words stopped me.

"Violet, I hope you don't mind, but... I was planning to cook dinner tonight. I thought Daemon would join us, but he got held up with work. I made way too much food, and it seems wasteful to let it go uneaten. Would you like to come over?"

I was about to politely decline when Riley's sharp voice came with disdain. "Kael, why are you inviting her? Let's just eat ourselves. Having certain people around ruins the appetite."

I felt my expression flatten into something cold and assessing as I looked at this woman who seemed to make antagonizing me her personal mission. Before I could respond, Celeste echoed, her voice gentle and reproachful. "Riley, please don't say things like that. Violet hasn't been feeling well. You shouldn't be so harsh."

Riley bristled. "Celeste, you're too forgiving. She's the one who upset you so much you ended up hospitalized with a heart attack. You almost died, and you're still defending her?"

Kael's expression shifted, surprise giving way to something more critical as he looked at me. "Wait, Celeste's cardiac episode was related to Violet?"

"Of course it was," Riley said, gaining momentum. "Celeste was perfectly fine until Violet kept provoking her, kept causing stress and emotional turmoil. Celeste's condition is so delicate—any strong emotion can trigger an attack. But Violet just kept pushing and pushing."

I felt a cold smile curve my lips as I leaned against my doorframe, crossing my arms.

Kael looked uncertain now, clearly torn between Riley's accusations and his own instincts. Before the situation could escalate further, Celeste stepped forward, placing herself between us. "Please, everyone, stop. Violet, I don't blame you for anything. I know you've been under tremendous stress too. Why don't you come have dinner with us?"

"Fine," I said. "Since you're all so insistent. Let me just grab my phone."

I retrieved my phone and followed them across the hall to Kael's apartment, where the dining table was indeed laden with an impressive spread.

The smell hit me before I'd even fully entered the room—that distinctive fishy odor that under normal circumstances might have been appetizing but now made my stomach lurch violently. I felt the nausea rise sharp and immediate, my throat tightening as I fought the instinctive gag reflex. My hand moved unconsciously to cover my mouth and nose, trying to block out the scent that seemed to intensify with each breath.

"Actually," I interrupted, my voice coming out strained and slightly breathless as I took an involuntary step backward, "I'm not feeling well. I think I need to go back to my apartment."

Celeste's expression shifted to one of gentle concern, her voice soft and sympathetic. "Violet, what's wrong? You look so pale. Is it the food?"

"I'm fine," I said, though even I could hear how unconvincing it sounded. "I just—these dishes aren't really to my taste right now. I should go rest like the doctor recommended."

I turned toward the door, desperate to escape the overwhelming fish smell before my stomach betrayed me completely, but Celeste moved quickly to intercept me, her hand reaching out as though to offer support. "Violet, please don't leave like this. I know there's been so much tension between us, and I really want to clear the air. About Daemon and me—"

Her hand caught my wrist, and I pulled back instinctively, but my balance was already compromised by the nausea and exhaustion. The next thing I knew, Celeste was falling backward with a theatrical gasp, her hand flying to her chest as she crumpled to the floor.

"Celeste!" The shout came from the doorway, and my blood turned to ice as I recognized Daemon's voice, sharp with alarm and fury. He was across the room in seconds, dropping to his knees beside Celeste, his hands moving over her with practiced concern, checking her pulse, her breathing, the color of her lips.

I stood frozen, still half-extended from where I'd pulled away from her touch, and as Daemon's eyes lifted to meet mine, I saw something there that felt like a knife between my ribs—not just anger, but certainty, as though he'd witnessed clear evidence of my guilt.

Kael and Riley burst from the kitchen where they'd been retrieving more food, their faces registering shock. "What happened?" Kael demanded.

Riley's eyes went immediately to me, her expression transforming into something venomous. "What did you do? What did you do to her?"

Celeste's hand scrabbled at her chest, her breathing coming in shallow gasps that sent panic through the room. Her voice emerged as a barely audible whisper. "My medication... in my bag..."

Riley rushed to retrieve the bag, pulling out a prescription bottle and shaking a pill into Celeste's palm. Celeste swallowed it with visible difficulty, her breathing still shallow and labored. Then her eyes found mine, and beneath the pain I caught the faintest glimmer of something else—satisfaction, triumph—before her gaze shifted to Daemon.

"Daemon," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Please... don't be angry with Violet. I know she didn't mean to push me."

The words were perfectly crafted—forgiveness that functioned as accusation, absolution that confirmed guilt.

Daemon's voice cut through the room like a blade. "I saw it."

Four words. Just four simple words, but they landed with the force of a physical blow. Every eye in the room turned to me—shock, anger, condemnation.

Daemon scooped her into his arms, his jaw set in grim lines. "We're leaving. Now."

Kael and Riley scrambled after them. Riley threw one last venomous glare at me before the door slammed shut, leaving me alone in the suddenly silent apartment.