Chapter 73 Chapter Seventy-two
ARA
Thayne walked in right then, his presence filling the room like a storm cloud.
Madison trailed behind him, her expression a mask of concern that didn't reach her eyes.
The doctor's voice faded as I met Thayne's gaze.
His eyes narrowed, dark and stormy, taking in my pale face and the way I clutched the sheets.
Something flickered there, suspicion, perhaps, or a shadow of something I couldn't really describe.
I felt like a fraud, lying here with his child inside me, while he looked at me like I was a puzzle he didn't want to solve.
My heart pounded, a mix of love and hate twisting in my chest.
Thayne didn't remember me, he didn't remember us, but his body had claimed mine last night as if it knew the truth my words couldn't prove.
The doctor cleared her throat. "Miss Ara needs to stay indoors for the rest of her pregnancy. It's the only way to ensure a smooth recovery for both her and the baby. No complications."
Thayne's eyes locked on mine then, an unreadable look in his eyes, but his jaw tightened.
Madison's face paled, her victorious smile from earlier cracking at the edges.
He nodded once, but his voice was low and steady. "Agreed."
Shock rippled through me, my breath catching.
Madison's eyes widened, hate flashing before she masked it quickly.
I was sure we were both thinking the same thing.
Why would he agree?
He didn't remember, he didn't believe this child was his, but that narrowed gaze told me he sensed the lie in the air, the off-note in the story he'd been fed by Madison.
I felt the anguish twist deeper, loving him, hating him, and needing him all at once.
His expression was a wall, but the way he lingered, the subtle clench of his fist, it betrayed the storm raging inside him.
He turned to leave, but paused, his back to me, as if the pull between us was a chain he couldn't break.
Madison shot me a look of pure loathing, her smile long gone. She looked ready to pounce on me and strangle me.
I lay there, my hand on my stomach, feeling the weight of his decision like a lifeline and a curse.
He didn't remember, but he was staying.
And in that, I felt a spark of hope mixed with the sorrow that threatened to drown me.
The discharge papers came faster than my thoughts could keep up.
One minute I was lying in a hospital bed, pretending I wasn’t terrified.
The next, a nurse was pressing instructions into my hands and smiling like this was normal. Like my life hadn’t just been torn open and rearranged without my consent.
Thayne left a while ago. I noticed the absence immediately. It sat heavy in my chest, louder than any goodbye could’ve been.
He’d agreed to everything. Bed rest, isolation, protection, but he didn’t stay.
That hurt more than I expected. Or maybe it hurt exactly as much as I feared.
The moment I stepped into the penthouse, Millie and Mollie collided with me.
“Ara!”
They wrapped their arms around me like I might evaporate if they let go.
“You scared us,” Mollie said, her words muffled against my stomach.
“I’m okay,” I said quickly. Too quickly. “I promise.”
Millie pulled back and looked at me with eyes too old for her age. “You’re not going to die, right?”
The question landed like a fist in my gut.
“No,” I said firmly. “I’m not.”
And I meant it.
They stayed glued to me all evening, like instinct had told them something tried—and failed—to take me away.
We ate together, and laughed carefully. We pretended the world wasn’t sharpening knives just outside the walls.
Thayne still didn’t come home. I hated that my heart sank when I waited till past nine and there was still no sign of his arrival.
Night settled in, and the penthouse quieted.
That was when Madison struck, like a viper.
I was standing by the window, the city lights bleeding into the glass, one hand resting over my stomach out of habit more than certainty.
“You’re resilient,” Madison said from behind me. Her voice was smooth. Almost admiring.
I didn’t turn. “People say that when they’re disappointed you didn’t break.”
She laughed softly. “No. They say it when something refuses to die.”
I faced her then. She was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, her eyes glittering with something sharp and ugly.
“You know,” she continued, “most women in your position would’ve withered.”
There it was. She was trying to let me know she'd tried to poison me.
My pulse slowed. Not out of fear though, but recognition.
“With the right push,” she added, tilting her head, “even weeds come out. Roots and all.”
The room felt suddenly airless.
“But not you,” Madison said. Her lips curved. “You’re a stubborn little witch. Tug as hard as one might, you just… won’t be uprooted.”
Witch. The word rang in my ears.
My suspicion clicked into place so cleanly it almost hurt.
“You’re angry,” I said quietly.
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m annoyed.”
“Because I didn’t die,” I finished.
Something dark flashed across her face, then it was gone in a heartbeat, but not fast enough.
“You should be thanking fate,” she said coolly. “Not everyone gets second chances.”
I stepped closer. Slowly. Carefully.
“Funny,” I murmured. “The doctors said my symptoms didn’t match stress. Or exhaustion. Or pregnancy complications.”
Her jaw tightened.
“They said it looked like poisoning,” I continued. “Low-dose. Gradual. Designed to weaken, not kill. At least not right away.”
There was silence. Thick and loud.
Madison straightened, then smiled.
“You should be careful with accusations,” she said. “They have a way of turning back on the speaker.”
I met her gaze and didn’t blink.
“I already know,” I said. “I just wanted to hear how you’d react.”
For the first time, something like real hatred showed.
“You should’ve stayed sick,” she snapped. “You were easier to manage that way.”
There it was.
The confession without words. The truth wrapped in venom.
I smiled then—small, tired, unafraid.
“I didn’t,” I said. “And I won’t.”
Her eyes burned into mine. “You think surviving makes you powerful?”
“No,” I said softly. “It makes me dangerous.”
She stared at me for a long moment, then turned and walked away, heels clicking like a countdown.
I stayed by the window, my heart pounding but steady.
She tried to uproot me. But she'd failed.
And now?
Now she knew I was watching her too.
I had just sunk into bed when a scream ripped through the penthouse. No, it wasn't a cry.
It was a shriek, raw and terrified.
I was out of the room before my heart even caught up, following the sound straight to my sisters’ bedroom.
“Mollie!” I screamed.
She was on the floor. Convulsing.
Her slender body jerked violently, limbs snapping and twisting like she was being electrocuted.
Angry red boils were blooming across her skin, spreading fast, ugly and wrong.
Her eyes were wide, too wide, rolling back as her chest hitched and stuttered.
“Mollie!” I dropped beside her, hands shaking as I tried to hold her still.
She gasped. Wheezed. Her mouth opened but no air seemed to make it in.
Millie was sobbing hysterically, clawing at her own hair. “It’s my fault,” she cried. “It’s my fault—”
“What are you talking about?” I shouted.
I rolled Mollie onto her back, fingers fumbling with the buttons of her nightshirt, and that was when it hit me.
The smell. Peanut butter.
My blood turned to ice.
No.
No, no, no—
Mollie was deathly allergic.
She would never, like, never, touch it willingly.
“Ara,” Millie choked, pointing weakly toward the door. “We… we found cookies in the pantry. There was a jar of butter. The labels were switched. We didn’t know.”
The room tilted.
Mollie’s breathing turned into a wet, broken wheeze. Her body spasmed harder, her lips beginning to darken.
This wasn’t an accident.
I didn’t need time to think. I didn’t need proof.
The answer burned through me like acid.
Madison.
My hands trembled as I fumbled for my phone, dread clawing up my throat while my sister convulsed beneath my palms.
She tried to uproot me, but she failed.
So she went after my sisters instead.
And if I didn’t get help right now, I was about to lose Mollie, and Madison was going to get exactly what she wanted.