Chapter 44

Chapter 44
Sylvia’s POV

The terrifying quietness that followed my mother’s announcement felt like glass about to break.
Derek’s fingers were still looped through mine, firm and grounding, but his body had gone rigid beside me. I could hear the faint ticking of the clock across the hall — every second stretching longer than it should.

The doctor arrived quietly thereafter, accompanied by a housemaid. A man in his late fifties, calm-eyed, wearing a pressed white coat that looked too clean for the chaos it was walking into. He bowed politely to my mother before glancing between Derek and me.

“Mrs. Navarro said you were feeling unwell,” he began softly. His tone was clinical, detached — but his eyes flicked to Derek and softened with unease. No one could miss the tension.

Derek nodded curtly. “Just check her and tell us what we need to know.”

My mother motioned to the guest suite just off the hallway. “You can use that room, Doctor. Sylvia, sweetheart, come with me.”

My feet felt heavy as I obeyed. Derek moved to join me, but Mr. Navarro’s arm blocked his path.
“Let her breathe, son,” he murmured.
Derek’s jaw ticked. “She’s not doing this alone.”
“She’ll be fine.”
I turned, meeting Derek’s eyes. “It’s okay,” I whispered, though my heart was hammered. “I’ll be right there.”

He hesitated — visibly fighting the urge to tear through anyone who got between us — then gave a short nod. “I’ll be outside.”

The thorough test was brief but felt endless. The doctor’s hands were steady, his questions gentle: how long I’d felt sick, the last time I’d eaten, my symptoms. My mother hovered nearby, arms folded tightly, as though holding herself together by sheer will.

When it was done, the doctor scribbled notes on his pad, his brow furrowing slightly before he turned to my mother.
“I’ll need to run a test, but…” He paused, looking at me. “There are clear signs she may be expecting.”

The words hit like thunder.

My breath caught. My mother’s lips parted, eyes glistening with disbelief. “You mean—?”
The doctor nodded once, solemn. “It’s likely she’s pregnant, ma’am. We’ll confirm in a moment.”

I didn’t know if the trembling and sweating in my hands came from fear or relief. A strange warmth filled my chest — terrifying and beautiful. The possibility had been real since the morning, but hearing it aloud made it impossible to run from.

When I stepped back into the main hall, Derek was already waiting by the staircase, pacing like a caged storm. The moment he saw me, he froze.

“Well?” he asked, voice taut.

I didn’t speak — I only nodded. Slowly. Tears welled in my eyes before I could stop them.

For a second, he didn’t move. Then, without delay, he crossed the distance and pulled me into his arms. The world fell away. His breath was warm against my hair, his chest solid and trembling beneath my cheek.

He didn’t speak — and he didn’t need to. His embrace said everything.

When he finally looked down at me, his voice was hoarse. “You’re sure?”
“The doctor said it’s almost certain.”
A sound escaped him — not quite a laugh, not quite a sob. He pressed his forehead to mine, eyes closed. “Then we’re really doing this, baby.”

My mother, standing a few steps away, let out a sharp breath. “You’re kids,” she whispered. “Do you even understand what you’re bringing into this world?”

Derek turned toward her, his tone calm but unwavering. “I understand that she’s the woman I love — and that whatever comes next, we face it together.”

Mr. Navarro’s voice followed, quiet but heavy. “And what happens when your enemies find out, Derek? When the blood you’ve spilled comes knocking on this door?”

Derek’s grip on my waist tightened. “Then I’ll make sure none of them ever get that close.”

The room felt electric — love and defiance colliding with fear and judgment.

And then —

Clap. Clap. Clap.

The sound sliced through the tension like a blade.

All heads turned.

From the doorway of the grand foyer, Abigail stepped in — calm, composed, and smiling like the devil herself. Her heels clicked sharply against the marble, her red lips curling into a smirk that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Well,” she drawled, slow and syrupy. “Since everyone’s in such a generous mood with secrets today, maybe it’s time I share mine too.”

My stomach dropped. “Abigail—”

“Oh, don’t look so shocked, sweetheart.” She lifted a folded paper in her hand — crisp, deliberate. “You’re not the only one carrying Derek’s little miracle.”

The room went silent.

Derek went pale, then dark — his entire body stiffening as if he’d been shot.
“What the hell are you talking about?”

Abigail tilted her head, eyes glinting. “Pregnant,” she said sweetly. “For you.”

“No,” I breathed.

“Yes,” she countered smoothly, waving the paper. “You think I’d show up uninvited if it weren’t true? Here — the proof.”

She extended the document toward my mother, who hesitated before taking it. Her eyes scanned the page once… twice… and then widened.

“It’s from a clinic in L.A.,” Abigail continued, voice bright as glass. “Positive. Eight weeks along.”

I felt the ground tilt. My fingers went numb. The room blurred.

Derek’s voice broke through the ringing in my ears. “You’re lying,” he snapped. “You forged this.”
Abigail only smiled wider. “Did I? You can ask your own men — they drove me to the clinic the day you decided to vanish with her.”

Her words hit me like bullets. I could hear my heartbeat in my throat. The air felt too thin to breathe.

“Derek,” I whispered. “Tell me she’s lying.”

He turned to me instantly, eyes wild, desperate. “She is, Sylvia. She’s lying through her teeth — I swear to you.”

But the sight of Abigail’s smug smile, the paper in my mother’s trembling hands, the weight of so many secrets crashing at once — it was too much.

I stepped back, shaking my head. “I can’t— I can’t do this.”

“Sylv, please,” Derek said, reaching for me. “Don’t listen to her. You know she’d do anything to tear us apart.”

I wanted to believe him. God, I did. But my chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself. Every ounce of strength I had drained away as I turned and bolted up the stairs.

“Sylvia!”

His voice followed me, rough with panic. But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.

I reached our room, slammed the door, and pressed my back to it, gasping for breath. The tears came in violent waves, silent and uncontrollable.

Downstairs, I could hear raised voices — Derek’s furious roar, Mr. Navarro’s attempts to calm him, Abigail’s mocking laugh. And then — a sharp cry.

My mother.

“Mrs. Navarro!” the doctor shouted.

The sound of chaos exploded below — footsteps, shouts, Derek calling my name again.

I sank to the floor, covering my ears, willing the world to stop spinning.

She’s lying, I repeated to myself. She has to be lying.

But the doubt crawled in like poison. What if she wasn’t? What if Derek — the man I loved, the father of the child I carried — had already betrayed me before I even knew I was pregnant?

The thought shattered something inside me.

A soft knock came against the door. Then his voice, low but breaking.
“Sylvia… please open the door. Don’t believe her. I swear to you — I’ve never touched her since that night at the party. She’s desperate. She wants to ruin us.”

I pressed a hand over my mouth, tears slipping between my fingers. “I don’t know what to believe anymore, Derek.”

“Believe me,” he whispered. “Not her. Not them. Just me.”

The desperation in his tone sliced through the noise. For a moment, I almost opened the door — but then I heard the commotion below again, the chaos swallowing every fragile piece of calm.

Mr. Navarro shouting orders. The doctor calling for help. My m
other’s name echoing in panic.

And Abigail’s laughter — low and cruel.

That sound told me everything.

This wasn’t over.

This was war.