Chapter 62 The echo of a broken vow
The morning sun spilled across my bedroom floor in a vibrant, mocking gold. It was a beautiful day—the kind that felt mismatched with the heavy, churning dread in my chest. I moved through the motions of the morning with a mechanical grace, dropping Leo off at daycare with an extra-long hug that smelled of strawberry toothpaste and innocence.
When I returned home, the house was quiet. My mother and Maya had headed out, leaving me with a rare pocket of solitude. I needed to move. I needed to drown out the voice in my head that kept replaying Mrs. Jenkins’ text. I cranked up an old R&B playlist, the smooth, soulful bass of 90s tracks thrumming through the floorboards. I began to tidy my space, folding laundry and organizing my sketches, my hand instinctively coming to rest on the slight, still-invisible curve of my stomach.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand, cutting through the music. I sat on the edge of the bed, my heart skipping a beat as the international code flashed on the screen.
"Victor?" I answered, my voice breathless.
"The sun hasn't even fully risen here, and I'm already being prepped," Victor’s voice came through, sounding distant but firm. There was a faint beep of hospital monitors in the background. "They’re taking me down in an hour, Elena."
I closed my eyes, my fingers pressing into the fabric of my shirt over my womb. "I'm right there with you, Vic. In every breath. I’m holding onto the light for you."
"I can feel it," he murmured. "Listen... I’ve spent the night thinking about that bucket list. I realized we forgot one thing. I want to take you to a place where we don't have to look at clocks. Just us."
"We'll do it," I promised, a tear escaping. "And Victor? I have something special to tell you. Something that’s going to change everything. But I’m saving it for when you wake up."
I could practically hear the smirk on his face through the thousands of miles of cable. "A secret? You’re a cruel woman, Elena M. You know I have a pathological need to be in control of information." He let out a soft, tired chuckle. "But fine. Give me the teaser. Is it about Paris?"
"It’s about the future," I said, my voice thick. "Our future."
"Well," Victor said, his tone turning surprisingly tender. "I suppose I now have a very compelling reason to want to come out of that bed. I’m not letting a secret get away from me. I’ll see you on the other side, sunshine."
"I love you, Victor."
"I know."
The line went dead. I sat there for a long time, the silence of the room amplified by the weight of the conversation. I took a deep, shaky breath, then stood up to prepare for the confrontation I had been dreading.
I showered and dressed in a soft, floral summer dress Maya had bought me—a "maternity-friendly" piece that flowed comfortably over my hips. It made me feel feminine and soft, a stark contrast to the armor I felt I needed to wear. I called a ride, and twenty minutes later, I was stepping into the hushed, upscale atmosphere of The Silver Oak.
My heart stopped when I saw the table.
Mrs. Jenkins was there, looking as sharp and jagged as a piece of broken flint. But beside her, leaning heavily on a pair of crutches, was Liam. He looked gaunt, his skin a sallow grey, but when his eyes met mine, he offered a genuine, pained smile.
"Afternoon," I said, my voice sounding small even to my own ears as I pulled out a chair.
"Morning, El," Liam said, his voice raspy. "You look... you look stunning. As always."
"Thank you, Liam," I replied, avoiding his gaze.
Mrs. Jenkins didn't bother with pleasantries. She looked at me with a disgust so potent it felt like a physical blow. She was only here for Liam—to satisfy the whims of a son she loved with a suffocating, blinding devotion.
"Elena," Liam began, his eyes searching mine. "Why didn't you tell me? On the call... why didn't you say you were pregnant? I didn't believe my mom when she told me."
He reached across the white tablecloth, his fingers brushing the back of my hand. I flinched instinctively, pulling back. Before I could find the words to explain the ten weeks, the ultrasound, and the truth, Mrs. Jenkins erupted.
"That’s mainly because she’s not sure if the baby is yours or not!" she spat, her voice a sharp hiss that drew glances from the neighboring tables. "Deny it, Elena. I heard you with my own ears in your mother's kitchen. Tell him how you aren't sure. Tell him how you jumped into another man’s bed while my son was fighting for his life in a coma!"
Liam’s face crumpled. He looked at me with a desperate, pleading expression—a "please tell me she’s lying" look that made my stomach turn.
"Mother, stop!" Liam groaned, turning back to me. "El, talk to me. What’s going on? Is she right?"
"I am pregnant, Liam," I said, my voice gaining a sudden, cold clarity. I looked him dead in the eye. "But the baby I’m carrying is not yours. It's Victor's. The timeline doesn't lie, even if your mother wants it to."
Liam winced as if I’d struck him. "Is it really his? But Elena... why? Why would you do that? You know I was trying. I was trying to give us a better future. I was trying to be a better man. I know I can't reach Victor Blackwood's level, but I was trying, El."
Tears began to fill his eyes, and for a fleeting second, a pang of guilt pierced my resolve. But then, the image of the silver car flashed in my mind. The memory of the woman Monica in the passenger seat beside him.
"You talk about your flaws, Liam? How about you tell me the truth for once? What were you doing with Monica in that car? I played the 'good girl' for years. I was patient. I waited while you ran around with a married woman. Really, Liam? That was your version of a 'better future'?"
Liam went still. He looked down at the table, his shoulders shaking. "I was taking Monica to her mother’s place, El," he whispered. "She called me because I was the only one who would come through. Her husband... he was beating her. He’d been violent toward her and the kids for months. She’d just miscarried the baby she was carrying because of him. I was just trying to get her away."
He looked up, and the raw, broken honesty in his eyes made the world tilt.
"But that’s fine, Elena," he said, his voice breaking. "I’m nothing like you. All I ever wanted was a future for us. I loved you. I still do. But you broke me in a way I can't even explain. I hope... I hope everything goes well with your little family."
He stood up, the effort clearly taxing his broken body. His mother jumped to his side, assisting him with his crutches, her eyes shooting one last look of pure, unadulterated venom at me as they turned to leave.
I sat there, frozen, the sounds of the restaurant fading into a dull roar. I wanted to scream that he was lying. I wanted to believe that his "noble" story was just another manipulation. But the way he had looked at me... the way he had walked away...
I touched my stomach, my heart a chaotic mess of relief for Victor and a sudden, terrifying doubt about the man I had once loved. I didn't even get the time to protest. I was left alone at the table, the check sitting between us like a final, cold goodbye, while thousands of miles away, the man I truly loved was being put under a knife.
The past hadn't just caught up with me. It had rewritten itself, leaving me standing in the middle of a story where I no longer knew who the villain was.