Chapter 267
Aria’s POV
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. I stared at that grainy black-and-white image—at that impossibly small shape that was somehow alive, somehow real, somehow "mine"—and felt hot tears spill down my temples into my hair.
When I finally managed to tear my gaze from the screen, I looked at Devon. His expression had softened in a way I'd never seen before. Those cold gray eyes were fixed on the monitor with something that looked almost like wonder. His mouth, usually set in a hard line, had relaxed into the barest suggestion of a smile.
I'd never seen Devon so gentle and tender to me before. The sight made my chest ache.
"You're not..." I had to stop, clear my throat. "This wasn't to—"
"To what?" His attention shifted to me, and I saw the exact moment his expression shuttered again, that brief vulnerability disappearing behind his usual mask.
"I thought you brought me here to... to end it." The words came out barely above a whisper.
"You're not..." I had to stop, clear my throat. My voice came out small, uncertain. "This wasn't to—to end it?"
Devon's head turned sharply toward me. In an instant, that brief softness vanished, replaced by something sharp and dangerous. His gray eyes blazed with an emotion I couldn't name—pain, anger, something darker beneath.
"Is that what you think?" His voice cut through the room like a blade. "That I'm so heartless? That I'd drag you here to get rid of it?"
The venom in those last words made me flinch. Dr. Richardson quietly set down the ultrasound wand and cleared his throat.
"I'll just... prepare the report," he murmured, practically fleeing the room.
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving us alone except for the soft beeping of medical equipment and that impossibly fast heartbeat still echoing from the monitor.
I pushed myself up to sitting, the gel still cold and wet on my stomach. A bitter laugh escaped my throat. "What else was I supposed to think? You locked me in your apartment. You wouldn't let me leave. And then you bring me here—"
"To see our child." Devon took a step toward the examination table, his jaw tight. "To make sure you're both healthy. To show you that this is real."
"And what then?" The words burst out of me, all the fear and desperation I'd been holding back. "What happens after that, Devon? We just... what? I have this baby with no ring, no commitment, no—" My voice cracked. "How am I supposed to raise a child who'll be called a bastard? Who'll be rejected by your social circle, who'll grow up knowing their father—"
"What are you saying?" Devon's voice had gone dangerously quiet.
I met his eyes, tears streaming down my face now. The question that had been burning in my chest since yesterday finally forced its way out.
"Will you marry me, Devon Kane?"
The room went completely silent. Even the heartbeat on the monitor seemed to fade into the background.
Devon stared at me, his expression unreadable. Seconds stretched into eternity.
"Will you?" I pressed, my voice breaking. "Or is this child going to grow up the way I did? With a father in name only, never truly loved, never truly wanted—"
"Stop." The word came out hoarse.
"I don't want that for them," I whispered. "I don't want them to be like me. Alone. Always alone, even when surrounded by family—"
"I said stop."
Devon's hands were shaking. I'd never seen Devon Kane's hands shake before.
He stared at me for a long moment, and I watched something shift in his expression. The sharp edges softened. The anger in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something that looked almost like understanding. Almost like pain.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low and rough. "Take care of yourself. Take care of the baby. That's what matters right now."
My heart sank like a stone. Of course. What had I expected? That he'd drop to one knee right here in the ultrasound room?
"I don't want my child called a bastard," I said, my voice trembling. "I don't want them to grow up feeling—"
Devon moved before I could finish. He crossed the distance between us in two strides, his hands coming up to cup my face. His palms were warm against my tear-stained cheeks.
He looked at me for a long moment, his gray eyes searching mine. Then, so quietly I almost didn't hear it:
"Good."
The single word hung in the air between us.
I blinked, certain I'd misheard. "What?"
But Devon was already stepping back, his hands falling away from my face. His expression had shuttered again, that brief moment of vulnerability locked away behind his usual mask.
He turned and walked toward the door, his shoulders rigid.
"Devon, wait—"
The door opened. Closed. He was gone.
I sat there on the examination table, gel still drying on my stomach, staring at the space where he'd been standing. My mind couldn't process what had just happened.
Good.
What did that mean? Good, he'd marry me? Good, he'd think about it? Good, I should stop asking?
My hands were shaking as I reached for the paper towels Dr. Richardson had left on the counter. I cleaned the gel off my skin mechanically, barely aware of what I was doing.
Good.
One word. One impossible, infuriating, hope-inducing word.
And then he'd just... left.
I slid off the examination table, my legs unsteady. The ultrasound photos lay on the counter where the doctor had placed them—three small black-and-white images of the tiny life growing inside me.
I picked them up with trembling fingers and tucked them into my purse.
When I finally emerged from the ultrasound suite, there was no sign of Devon in the corridor. No sign of him in the waiting area. I pushed through the front entrance, half-expecting to see his car.
Instead, I found Lucas standing beside the black Bentley, the door already open.
My heart sank.
"Miss Harper," Lucas said with that respectful nod he always gave me. "Mr. Kane had an urgent matter to attend to. He asked me to take you home."
Of course he did.
I slid into the back seat, the leather cool against my legs. As Lucas pulled into traffic, I pressed one hand to my stomach and stared out the window at the passing city.
Good.
The word echoed in my head, over and over. What did it mean? When would I see him again? When would I get an actual answer instead of cryptic single-word responses?
"Lucas?" My voice came out smaller than I'd intended. "Can you take me to Harper mansion instead?"
In the rearview mirror, I saw his expression tighten almost imperceptibly. "I'm sorry, Miss Harper. Mr. Kane's instructions were very specific. I'm to take you directly to the penthouse."
Of course they were.
I leaned my head back against the seat and closed my eyes, one hand still resting on my abdomen where that impossibly fast heartbeat was continuing its rhythm, oblivious to all the chaos and confusion above.
"Baby," I whispered, too quiet for Lucas to hear. "Your father said 'good' today. I'm not sure what he meant. But I think... maybe... it might mean something. I hope it means something."