Chapter 43

Chapter 43
Sylvia’s POV

The softest brush of fingertips on my shoulder pulled me out of sleep with his body scent which I fell in love with,now intoxicating.
“ Sylvia,” Derek whispered. His voice was rough, the kind that came from a sleepless night and too many thoughts. “Wake up, baby. We’ve got to go.”

The world beyond my eyelids felt heavy, still carrying the hush of dawn. I turned, half buried in the warmth of the sheets. “What time is it?” My voice sounded small against the silence of the room.

“Early,” he said. “Too early.”

There was a weight and uneasiness in his tone that made my stomach tighten before I even opened my eyes fully. I blinked into the dim gray light filtering through the curtains. Derek was already dressed, the black of his shirt clinging to the strength of his shoulders, his jaw shadowed with stubble. He looked both restless and resolute — a man who had made a decision and couldn’t bear to wait another second to carry it out.

“Pack your bag,” he said, voice firm now. “We’re flying to L.A. this morning.”

I sat up immediately without much time, sheets pooling around my waist. “Wait—what?”

He moved to the window and tugged the curtains open. Golden light poured in, throwing long stripes across the floor. His eyes caught that light — storm-gray, unyielding. “I’ve booked the flight,” he said, quieter this time. “We leave in three hours.”

The words sank in slowly, like ice melting through my veins. I remembered the fight and chaos the night before — my mother’s voice rising and his father’s cold authority filling the study, their demands echoing: You will leave Morocco, Derek. Alone.
And Derek, his jaw locked, saying through clenched teeth, If I leave, I take Sylvia with me.

Now, he was making good on that promise , Derek never backs off.

I pressed a hand to my temple, feeling the exhaustion from days of emotional wreckage. “We’re really doing this,” I murmured. “We’re just… leaving.”

He came closer, crouched slightly so that his eyes met mine. “I told you, I won’t lose you to their rules. I can build a home anywhere, Sylvia, but not without you in it.”

The conviction and love in his voice sent a warmth through me, a fragile comfort — but it was short-lived. As I swung my legs off the bed, the room tilted. A rush of dizziness swept over me so fast that I had to grab the nightstand. My vision swam.

“Hey, hey,” Derek caught me instantly, his hands steady on my waist. “Easy.”

“I’m fine,” I breathed, forcing a small laugh. “Guess I stood up too fast.”

But even as I said it, a sharp wave of nausea surged up, undeniable and raw. I barely made it to the bathroom before my body rebelled.

It hit hard and without warning. My fingers clutched the cool edge of the sink, my breath ragged. The taste of bile burned my throat. The air seemed too thick, too hot. I shut my eyes, waiting for it to pass.

“ Sylvia,” Derek’s voice came from behind me, deep with worry. Then his hands were there — one on my shoulder, the other gathering my hair gently. His touch was grounding, steady, patient and echoes of his words felt so wholesome. He waited, patting and stroking my back , until the storm inside me calmed.

When I finally turned, the look on his face made my chest ache as I could read the thousand and many questions and things going through his mind. He looked utterly helpless — this man who faced bullets without blinking was shaken by the sight of me like this.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, rinsing my mouth and trying to force a smile. “Must’ve been something I ate.”

He didn’t buy it. “You’ve barely eaten anything. Sylv” His eyes searched mine, reading the truth I was trying to hide.

And in that moment, a thought flickered — wild, impossible, and yet so clear that I froze. My breath caught.

Could it be…?

I gripped the sink tighter, staring at myself in the mirror, pale skin, my trembling lips, and eyes that couldn’t mask the unfolding truth forming behind them.

Derek’s hand brushed my arm. “Sylvia, what is it?”

My throat felt dry. “I… I think I might be pregnant Derek.”

The words fell  out, soft but painfully loud in the small room.

For a moment, neither of us moved. His face  went blank — not in shock, but as if every war  in his mind had come to a halt. He just looked at me, eyes searching, lips parting without a single word.

“Pregnant,” he echoed, the word sounding foreign on his tongue.

I nodded weakly, tears rushing to spill. “I’m not sure. But I’ve missed my period, I’ve been feeling sick, dizzy—”

He took a slow step toward me. The air around us became dense, heavy with silence. Derek reached  out to me , with his steps unsure, and rested his hand against my stomach stroking it . His touch was gentle, and solemn. His thumb traced small, careful circles — not to feel movement, but to steady himself.

His voice came low. “A child.”

It wasn’t a question. It was awe.

My lips trembled. “ Derek love ,I don’t even know what to feel.”

Derek took a long breath, stepping back. His hand fell to his side with his gaze dropping to the floor as his thoughts raced far beyond the room. I could see the storm rising behind his calm — the weight of responsibility, the danger of his world, the dark reality that loving him already meant bleeding for him.

And now, I carried something that bound us even deeper.

He paced to the window, bracing a hand on the glass. Sunlight beamed at him in gold, but his face was shadowed with uncertainty. For a long time, he said nothing. I heard only the soft rhythm of his breathing.

“Derek,” I whispered, afraid of what his silence meant.

When he turned, his eyes were raw — not afraid, but shaken. “I thought I was ready for anything. Guns, betrayal, enemies. But this…” He let out a slow, unsteady breath. “I don’t know if I deserve this kind of love, Sylvia. Or if I can protect it.” “I never dreamt of being a parent Sylv, my world is filled with blood ,I - I don't ever want to fail you or my offspring”. I saw tears trickle down his face and his fears evident.

I walked  to him at that moment, my heart aching at his words. “You already do,” I said softly, pressing my hand over his heart. “You protect me every day. You love me enough to make the rest of it worth facing.”

He looked down at me, eyes glistening with emotion he couldn’t hide. “You think I could ever walk away from you?”

“Then promise me,” I whispered, voice shaking. “Promise you won’t leave me — or this baby — no matter what happens.”

He cupped my face with both hands, his touch trembling. “You have my word,” he said, each word deliberate. “I’ll fight the world for you. For both of you.”

Tears trickled down my cheeks, and he caught them with his thumb, his gaze fixed  on mine. The air between us shifted — tender, electric. I reached for his hand and placed it over my thighs again, guiding him closer.

“Then prove it,” I murmured.

He froze. “Sylvia…”

“Prove it to me,” I said again, the words barely a breath as I dragged his hands up to my inner thighs stroking my pussy with it . I know it's his weak point and he can't resist me 

Whatever wall and ears that  still stood between us shattered. Derek pulled me into his arms, the motion rough and desperate, his lips crashing against mine. The kiss was not gentle — it was fierce, consuming, the kind that carried every fear, every unspoken vow, our tongues savouring each other and Derek took charge of my wet pussy with his hands fingering me and my soft moan filling the entire room.

The world outside disappeared. The only sound was the soft, uneven rhythm of our breaths, the whisper of fabric, the trembling of hands trying to memorize what love felt like when the future was uncertain.

He kissed me like he was memorizing me — my taste, my breath, the tiny sounds that escaped when he whispered my name.

When our foreheads touched, we stayed still, caught in the heartbeat of the moment. “You still think I could ever abandon you?” he murmured.

I shook my head slowly, eyes closed. “No. Not anymore.”

For a while, neither of us spoke. We just held on — two people standing at the edge of a new life, terrified but together.

“Derek, please I need you inside me,I can't have enough of you” I said to Derek dragging me closer to me .
Derek blushed and hugged me so tight with a teasing kiss and whispered to me “ enough my seductress” we have to go ,we have too much ahead . His words snapped me back to reality and we both became silent in our embrace.

When the morning deepened into gold gentle sunrise, Derek brushed a hand through my hair and whispered, “We should go. Before they wake.”

I nodded, still dazed, the echoes of our closeness lingering like warmth under my skin. He moved quietly around the room, packing with the precision of someone used to escaping at dawn.

I sat by the bed, watching him fold his shirt, tuck his gun into the side of the bag, zip the suitcase with silent efficiency. Every movement was deliberate — protection, preparation, control. It was who he was.

“Derek?” I asked softly.

He looked up, eyes softer now. “Yes, baby?”

“Are you scared?”

His pause was long, thoughtful. “Yes,” he finally admitted. “But not of leaving. Not of the danger. I’m scared of losing you — of losing what we just started.”

I smiled faintly. “Then you’re human after all.”

He smirked at that, walked over, and kissed my forehead. “Don’t forget to pack your passport.”

I laughed — a small, nervous laugh — and went to gather my things. My hands trembled as I folded my few clothes. Every little object felt heavier now — not because of its weight, but because of what I was about to leave behind.

When we were finally ready, Derek took my bag before I could lift it. “I’ve got it,” he said, eyes warning me not to argue.

“I can help—”

He cut me off gently. “You’re not lifting anything heavier than a feather until we know what’s going on.”

The protective edge in his tone made my heart flutter in ways I didn’t expect. I slipped my hand into his, and together we headed down the grand staircase.

The mansion was too quiet. Sunlight spilled across the marble floors, painting the hallways in pale gold. For a moment, it almost felt peaceful.

But as we reached the front door, that illusion shattered.

Two figures stood by the grand foyer — my mother and stepfather. Both dressed, both waiting.

Derek’s grip tightened around my hand.

“Good morning,” he said coldly.

My mother’s expression was calm, but her eyes were sharp. “You’re leaving?”

“Yes,” Derek replied simply. “We are.”

Mr. Navarro’s gaze flicked to our bags, then to me. He sighed, almost sadly. “You’re making this harder than it has to be, son.”

“Don’t call me that,” Derek muttered under his breath, his tone cutting. He moved toward the door, his hand still locked around mine. “We’re done talking.”

But when he reached for the handle — it didn’t turn. The door was locked.

He froze. Slowly, he turned back toward them, his voice dropping an octave. “Can someone explain what’s going on here?”

My mother stepped forward, calm as a queen. “You’re not leaving, Derek. Not yet.”

His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Excuse me?”

She folded her arms. “Not until Sylvia has been examined by a doctor. He’s on his way.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Derek’s jaw clenched so tight I could almost hear it. “You locked us in?”

“It’s for her safety,” she said evenly. “She’s pale. She’s been sick. I won’t watch her collapse because you’re too stubborn to let someone check her.”

“I said she’s fine,” he growled.

“And I said you’re not a doctor,” my mother replied, her tone like steel wrapped in silk.

Mr. Navarro stepped forward, raising a hand toward Derek. “Son,” he said softly, “she’s right. Let the test happen. Then you can go.”

The muscles in Derek’s jaw twitched. He looked down at me, his eyes full of storm and worry. Then, slowly, he exhaled — the breath long, controlled, defeated but not broken.

“Fine,” he said finally, voice low. “But the moment it’s done, we’re leaving.”

He reached for my hand again, his thumb tracing soothing circles against my skin — a silent promise.

I nodded, heart pounding. Whatever the test revealed, whatever our parents tried to do, I knew we were past the point of fear.

We were already a family.