Chapter 150 Come to the house
June
By the time we reach our apartment building, Leila is barely holding herself together. I have her arm slung over my shoulder, carrying her more than guiding her. She’s still crying—quiet now, but her body trembles with every breath.
I keep telling myself I’m doing the right thing bringing her home. Lia had already started giving her strange looks, wondering why Leila was crying harder than everyone else combined. The last thing we needed was more questions, more explanations.
More lies.
My mind feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, thick and suffocating. The woman in the hospital restroom… the way she looked at me. "How far along are you?"
Her voice still echoes, taunting me. Mocking me.
Pregnant.
I might be pregnant.
And if I am… what then? Will Hermes choose me this time? Will Natalya tear me apart?
Will she hurt me or the baby?
God, I’m scared. So scared I can’t breathe. And I can’t tell Leila. I can’t tell Kayla. I can’t tell anyone. I’m alone in this—again.
We climb the last set of stairs; Leila sniffles beside me, wiping her face with her sleeve like a heartbroken child. I’m too drained to comfort her anymore. I’m too drained to even comfort myself.
We turn the corner and—
Kayla is standing in front of our apartment door, arms folded, foot tapping, looking like she’s ready to fight the whole world.
Great. Just what I need.
"Where the hell were you two?" she snaps the moment she sees us. "And why did you leave the door open? Do you know how dangerous that is? June, what if someone walked in here? What if someone—"
Her voice cuts off.
Because she finally sees Leila’s face.
Eyes bloodshot, lips shaking. She looks like she’s been shattered and glued together with tears.
"Leila… what happened?" Kayla’s tone softens instantly, concern replacing anger.
I exhale—one of those deep, tired sighs that feels like it drains the last drop of energy out of my bones.
I push past her gently, guiding Leila inside. "It’s a long story, Kay," I say, my voice flat, dry, exhausted. "Just… come inside. I’ll explain."
Even though I’m not sure I actually can. Not the whole truth. Not the parts that involve me. Not the parts that involve Hermes.
Kayla storms in right behind us, shutting the door with more force than necessary. Her eyes jump between me and Leila like she’s trying to piece together the entire disaster with nothing but our faces.
"What the hell is going on?" she demands. "Why is she crying like that? Did something—"
Her words cut off when Leila finally looks up.
"I-I don’t know if he’s going to… live," Leila stutters, her voice breaking as she folds into herself.
Kayla looks confused. And I immediately tell her about Leila's pregnancy and Tobias's involvement.
Her arms slowly fall to her sides. Her eyes widen, lips parting in shock—like someone just struck her with lightning.
"What?" she whispers.
I sigh and rub Leila’s back, trying to be the steady one even though I’m shaking inside.
"A drunk driver hit Tobias’s car," I continue quietly. "He was driving back from camping. He’s in surgery right now… and they don’t know yet." I swallow hard, forcing the words out. "We’re just praying he lives."
Kayla covers her mouth, taking a step back. "Oh my God…"
Leila breaks again—loud, ugly sobs tearing out of her chest. Kayla immediately kneels beside her, hugging her tightly, murmuring something soft and broken.
And suddenly—
My stomach twists.
A hot wave of nausea slams into me out of nowhere. The room spins. My throat burns.
I stand abruptly, nearly stumbling. "Kay—take over. Please," I choke out, holding onto the wall. "I’m… I’m pressed. I need to—just take care of her for a second."
Kayla nods, distracted, focused on Leila.
I slip down the corridor, my legs barely holding me.
By the time I reach my bathroom, I throw up and then collapse onto the floor, breathing hard.
My hands shake as I reach into the pocket of my shorts.
And pull out the small pregnancy test strip I secretly bought from the convenience store downstairs.
I stare at it.
My chest rises and falls too fast.
One tiny piece of plastic. One answer that could destroy my entire life.
What if it's positive? What if everything I fear is real?
I turn the strip over in my trembling fingers, my heart pounding so loudly it fills the room.
I can’t take it. I have to take it. I don’t want to know. I need to know.
My vision blurs.
I force myself up, peeling off my shirt with trembling hands. I need to take the test. I need to know. I can’t keep breathing like this—half-alive, half-dead, drowning in every worst-case scenario.
Just as I’m about to unbutton my shorts—
my phone vibrates.
I flinch hard, like someone slapped me.
My heart hammers as I grab it.
A message from her.
Natalya Voss:
First thing tomorrow morning, go to the store and check for suits for Hermes.
I’m sure you know his size.
My stomach twists again—this time from anger.
"God, she’s too much," I hiss under my breath. I roll my eyes, but it doesn’t ease the frustration burning inside my chest.
Suits?
For what?
My brain blanks for a second…
then it hits me like a punch to the gut.
The gala. The welcome gala for Natalya is tomorrow.
My breath leaves me in a sharp gasp.
No. No, no, no.
I can’t face Hermes. Not when I might be carrying his baby and he’s…
God, he’s going to be right next to his fiancée the whole night.
My throat closes.
I have to tell him. I can't fight this alone. But will he accept it?
I crawl to the bed, curling into myself. Tears slip out silently at first… then faster, hotter, unstoppable.
Another vibration.
I wipe my face and check.
Natalya again.
This time it’s a picture. A photo of her and Hermes in bed.
I stare.
Hermes is asleep beside her, shirtless, his face calm.
A bitter scoff escapes me. Of course she’d send something like this.
That woman’s pettiness has no limit.
My eyes sting as I stare at Hermes’s sleeping face. God, it hurts. It physically hurts.
I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing my hand over my mouth to smother the sound of my own heartbreak.
I don’t want to think about him. I don’t want to feel this. I just want… silence.
I force myself to lie down, curling deeper into the blankets.
If I don’t sleep, I’ll crumble.
___
The sharp trill of my phone tears through the silence.
I jolt up so fast I lose balance—and crash right off the bed.
"Shit—" I groan, rubbing my elbow as I blink at the floor, disoriented.
My hair’s a tangled mess around my face, my eyes dry and heavy. I probably look like a walking tragedy.
The phone keeps screaming.
I grab it before the noise drills into my skull—and flinch at the name flashing on the screen.
Natalya.
I barely get a word in before her shrill voice slices through the line.
"Where are you?! Did you forget you’re supposed to bring my dress and Hermes’s suit to the house? I need to do my makeup, damn it! Call the stylist and the team! Now!"
Click.
The call ends before I can even breathe.
I just sit there, staring blankly at the wall for a full five seconds, phone still clutched in my hand.
Then her words finally register.
Bring the suit to the house.
The house.
My heart drops.
Oh, God. I’m going to see Hermes.
I shoot up from the floor, wide awake now, pulse hammering in my throat.
No. No. No.
My stomach still feels like it’s made of acid and secrets. And I might—God forbid—be pregnant.
But there’s no escaping Natalya.
And now, she’s just given me the one thing I’m terrified to face again.