Chapter 112 up
“What position will the child have… once they’re born?”
Elara’s voice cut through the silence of Clark’s study. He was standing in front of the filing cabinet, having just closed a brown folder when the question landed without warning. Clark froze. One hand remained wrapped around the drawer handle, his back stiff, as if his body had understood before his mind did that this was not a casual question.
“What do you mean?” Clark asked, still not turning around.
Elara rose from the sofa and stepped closer. She made no effort to sound calm. She was tired—exhausted—of pretending everything was fine since the pregnancy had been confirmed.
“I’m asking something simple,” she said. “Our child—the one I’m carrying—will they be an heir to your family?”
Clark closed the drawer slowly. Too slowly. When he finally turned around, he looked at her with an expression he couldn’t hide: surprise, caution, and—most painfully—hesitation.
The question hung between them longer than it should have.
Elara waited. Five seconds. Ten. Clark still didn’t answer.
That silence spoke louder than a direct refusal ever could.
“Why are you asking this?” Clark said at last, his voice flat.
“Because I need to know,” Elara replied quickly. “Not as your wife. As a mother.”
Clark rubbed his jaw. “A child’s status isn’t something we need to discuss right now.”
“Maybe not for you,” Elara cut in. “But for me, it matters.”
She took a steadying breath and continued more evenly. “I’ve seen how your family views bloodlines. Names. Inheritance. I know how your world works, Clark. I don’t want to be naïve.”
Clark avoided her gaze. “Elara—”
“Just answer,” she interrupted. “Yes or no.”
Clark fell silent again.
And this time, Elara truly heard it—not with her ears, but with the slow collapse inside her chest. The man standing in front of her wasn’t searching for the right words. He was calculating risk.
“I can’t give a definite answer,” Clark finally said.
The sentence landed like a hammer.
“Can’t,” Elara repeated quietly. “Or won’t?”
Clark let out a long breath. “It’s more complicated than you think.”
“It always is,” Elara said with a thin, bitter smile. “Every time I ask about the future, the answer is always ‘complicated.’”
Clark stepped closer. “This isn’t about me not wanting this child.”
“Then what is it about?” Elara shot back.
Clark opened his mouth, then closed it again. He looked like a man standing at the edge of a cliff—one word away from falling.
Elara’s heartbeat quickened. There was something beneath Clark’s restraint that she had been ignoring for too long. Something that was finally coming into focus.
“You once said your family values tradition above all else,” Elara continued, her voice now colder. “Blood. Legitimacy. Heirs. So I’ll ask again—will this child be fully acknowledged?”
Clark lowered his gaze. “I’ll make sure the child is protected.”
“That’s not an answer,” Elara replied sharply. “I’m not asking about protection. I’m asking about recognition.”
Clark said nothing.
Silence settled again, heavier than before. Elara felt as though she were standing in front of a door that was slowly opening—and behind it was something Clark had hidden with meticulous care.
“You’re afraid to answer,” Elara said softly.
Clark looked up. “I’m being careful.”
“No,” Elara shook her head. “You’re afraid because there’s something I don’t know.”
Clark didn’t deny it.
And in that moment, Elara’s suspicion hardened into certainty.
“You have an unresolved past,” she said. “And it has something to do with heirs.”
Clark clenched his jaw. “Don’t make assumptions.”
“Then explain,” Elara challenged. “If nothing’s being hidden, why does a simple question leave you silent?”
Clark walked away and leaned against the desk. “A large family isn’t just about one child.”
Elara’s heart pounded. “What does that mean?”
Clark didn’t answer immediately. His eyes drifted to the floor, then to the window, as if searching for an escape from this conversation without having to say anything at all.
“Elara,” he said finally, his voice lower, “not everything from the past can be revealed right now.”
That was enough.
Elara let out a small laugh, devoid of humor. “So it’s true,” she said. “There is something. Or someone.”
Clark looked at her. “You’re drawing the wrong conclusions.”
“Or the right ones,” Elara countered. “I’m starting to see the picture you’ve been blurring.”
She took a step back, creating distance. “If this child isn’t the only possible heir,” she said quietly, “I have the right to know.”
Clark stayed silent.
Too long.
A chill ran down Elara’s spine. She recalled Clark’s detachment since the pregnancy—the lack of enthusiasm, the careful answers, the growing emotional distance.
Suddenly, it all made sense—in the most painful way possible.
“You have another child?” Elara asked softly.
Clark looked startled. “No.”
The answer came too fast.
Elara studied him intently. “You didn’t answer about the possibility.”
Clark closed his eyes briefly. “Elara, enough.”
“No,” she shook her head. “This is just beginning.”
She wrapped her arms around her stomach without realizing it. “I will not raise my child in uncertainty. I will not let them grow up as a question mark in their own father’s life.”
Clark stepped closer, reaching for her hand. Elara stepped back.
“Don’t touch me,” she said. “Not until you’re honest.”
Clark lowered his hand, his face tense. “I need time.”
“To arrange your lies?” Elara snapped.
Clark looked at her with a mix of anger and exhaustion. “To protect everyone.”
“Everyone,” Elara repeated slowly. “Or someone who existed before me?”
Clark didn’t respond.
And in that silence, Elara felt something collapse quietly—the trust she had held with both hands for so long.
She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. She simply stood there, staring at the man who now felt like a stranger.
“If you can’t secure this child’s future,” Elara said at last, her voice cold and resolute, “then I will.”
Clark stared at her, stunned. “What do you mean?”
“I’ll find the truth myself,” Elara replied. “With or without you.”