Chapter 67

The bathroom suddenly felt tiny; the walls were closing in on Roseline as she stared at the test in her hands. It was as if the world tilted, the air thick and not breathable. She pressed a hand against her chest, trying to steady her racing heartbeat, but to no avail. The two bold lines on the stick told her everything she needed to know, and it was a truth she wasn't ready to face.

Pregnant.

Her mind was running through the implications. It wasn't Ronaldo's child. Deep within her soul, she knew the truth, and the timeline didn't leave a speck of doubt. Her night with Sam had led to this-an unplanned, frail new life, budding inside her. At once, the thought of Sam lit a spark of warmth, only to be quickly covered over by the suffocating weight of her real world.

What was she going to do?

First, Roseline had tossed the test into a wad of tissue and shoved it deep to the bottom of the trash can, covering it with all the discarded items. If Ronaldo found it, there would be no escaping his wrath. He would demand answers, accuse her, and punish her in ways she couldn't bear to imagine.

She rinsed her face with cold water, her hands shaking as she stared back at the reflection staring back at her. The woman that stared back was foreign to her wide-eyed in panic, pale of complexion, lips pressed into a thin line in anxiety.

"You can't fall apart now," she whispered to herself. "Not when it's all on the line."

No sooner had she stepped out of the bathroom than an oppressive silence greeted her from the mansion, an old enemy. The creaks of every floorboard sounded like accusation to her ears; every shadow whispered her secrets in the corners. She paused in the hallway, her head filled with several questions that she couldn't answer.

But whom was she to tell? Sam deserved to know, yet to try to contact him now was impossibly dangerous. Ronaldo's jealousy and suspicion had honed sharply in recent days, and one slip would be disastrous.

And then there was Vincent. Always the observant assistant, yet he seemed to know too much already. She would feel his eyes on her across a room, the calculated silence more unnerving than any interrogation.

As Roseline came down the big staircase, her phone vibrated on the table in the foyer. She picked it up, her heart doing some kind of backbend at the message.

We need to talk. Call me when you can.

It was from Sam. His words were simple, but she could feel the urgency behind them. He'd sensed her growing unease during their last conversation, and now she had confirmation of why. She wanted to call him immediately, to share her fears and find solace in his voice, but she couldn't risk it. Not here. Not now. 

She quickly typed a reply.

I will. Soon.

At nearly the same instant, it flashed again, this time from an unknown number.

Do you think you can keep secrets? Think again.

Her breath hitched. The cold weight of dread settled in her chest.

Revision Exercise

Roseline paced the drawing room, attempting to calm her nerves. The walls seemed to inch closer with each passing second. If Ronaldo found out… if he even suspected…

She fisted her hands. She couldn't let the fear paralyze her. Not now. She had to think clearly, to plan her further steps. She needed to find a way to tell Sam, to figure out what this meant for them and the life growing inside her.

But as her mind churned, the sound of a car pulling into the driveway made her freeze. She glanced at the clock: too early for Ronaldo to be back. He'd said he wouldn't be back until that evening.

She pulled the curtain aside to find the same black SUV parked outside. Vincent stepped out, his face unreadable, and his long legs ate up the distance as he strode toward the front door. Her heart sank. What was he doing here now? 

Vincent came in, and his keen eyes instantly zoomed in on Roseline. "Mrs. DuCiel," he greeted politely, though something cold lined his voice. "A package came in for Mr. DuCiel, and he wanted me to deliver it personally."

Roseline forced a smile, her mind scrambling for answers. “Thank you, Vincent. I’ll make sure he gets it.”

He handed her a slim, black envelope, but his gaze lingered one beat too long. She refrained from fidgeting under his scrutiny. Did he know? Could he smell her anxiety?

As he reached the door, Vincent hesitated. "If you need anything, you know you can always call me," his tone silky smooth, yet tinged with subtle menace. "Mr. DuCiel values loyalty above all else."

The threat hung in the air between them in unspoken words. Roseline nodded, forcing herself to appear unruffled. "Of course. Thank you, Vincent."

The moment he was gone, she let loose a trembling breath and tore open the envelope. Inside was but a single sheet of paper, but at what she saw there, her blood ran cold.

It was a photograph-grainy but clear enough to make out. It depicted her and Sam in the café from weeks ago, leaning close to one another, the expressions soft and intimate. The caption beneath the photo read:  

*Careful. Secrets have a way of coming to light.*

Roseline's hands shook as she held on to the photo. Somebody had been following her. Watching her. Was it Ronaldo, or somebody working for him? The mere thought sent a surge of acid into her stomach.

She rushed to the fireplace, tossing the photograph into the flames and watching it curl and blacken until it was nothing but ash. But destroying the evidence didn’t erase the threat. Whoever had sent it still knew, and they weren’t going to let her forget.

Her phone buzzed again, and this time, the message was from Ronaldo.

I’ll be home early tonight. Have dinner ready.

Simple words, yet sending a shiver down her spine. She knew what they meant and wanted to test her and push her until she revealed whatever it was he suspected.

Roseline slammed a hand on her stomach, an intense, protective instinct boiling up inside of her. She couldn't let him find out. Not yet. She needed more time to plan, time to figure out just how to keep herself and her child safe.

She stared into the fire, her resolution solidifying. She wasn't about to let Ronaldo win. Not this time.

As the sun began to set, Roseline prepared for Ronaldo's homecoming, but her head was rife with contingency plans. The moment she finished setting the table for dinner, though, her phone buzzed one last time.

The message inside was from Sam.

Her heart was pounding. She knew she had to answer him. But the risk…

The creak of the front door cut her off before she could answer. Ronaldo's steps echoed down the hall, and his sharp voice was commanding.

"Roseline."

She swallowed hard, her fingers tightening on the phone.