Chapter 18 Chapter Eighteen
Nina's pov~
The soft thud of cake batter hitting the sides of the bowl echoed through the quiet apartment. I stood barefoot in the kitchen, a smear of flour dusting the front of my shirt, my swollen belly brushing against the counter. Kane hovered nearby like a shadow, his arms crossed, watching me with quiet intensity.
“You’re staring again,” I said without turning, the words soft, almost teasing.
“Just making sure you don’t drop,” he replied, his voice a low rumble. “You’ve been on your feet too long.”
I glanced over my shoulder, one brow lifting. “I’m baking, not climbing Mount Everest.”
He didn’t smile. Instead, he stepped forward and placed a large, warm palm over my bump. The weight of his hand was heavy—protective, possessive.
“Doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “You’re carrying my kid. You sit when I say sit.”
My eyes rolled, but I didn’t argue. Not really. Because even in his overbearing way, there was comfort. Security and care.
Then—
The doorbell rang.
I froze, whisk suspended mid-stir. They were here. They told me they'd be coming...
Kane’s eyes sharpened. “You expecting anyone?”
I shook my head. “No. Stay here. I’ll get it. It's probably the neighbors”
He didn’t like that. I could feel it in the pause before he spoke. “Nina—”
“I’ll be right back,” I murmured, already heading to the door.
But the moment I opened it, my blood turned to ice.
My mother.
And Jenna.
Time crawled.
My mother’s eyes dropped immediately, zeroing in on my stomach like a predator spotting a weakness. And the change in her expression was instant. Her smile twisted, curling into something sharp and cold. Something cruel.
“You little slut,” she hissed.
The words struck like a slap. My mouth opened—but nothing came out.
“You got pregnant?” Her voice rose, shrill and vicious. “You let some lowlife knock you up like a common whore? You brought shame into our family—”
Her hand lifted.
It moved fast.
But it never landed.
Kane was there.
His grip clamped around her wrist mid-swing. His hand, large and steady, locked her in place like steel.
My mother gasped, flinching. “Unhand me!”
Kane’s voice didn’t rise—but it didn’t need to. It slid under the skin, cold and cutting. “Touch her again,” he said slowly, “and I dare you.”
He stared at her with that terrifying stillness he carried like a second skin. Not angry. Not loud. Just a man on the verge of unleashing something violent.
My mother ripped her arm free, stumbling back a step. She stared at him, rattled—but she recovered quickly. Her gaze snapped to me with fresh venom.
“This is the pauper? This is who you’re letting ruin your life?” Her lip curled in disdain. “He hasn’t even married you. No ring. No name. No dignity. Do you think this is love? You’re playing house in a rat’s nest.”
I felt the words like splinters under my skin, each one sharper than the last. But I didn’t speak. Not yet. My chest rose and fell, shallow and fast.
She stepped closer. “You’re living in a dump with a man who couldn’t afford a decent suit if his life depended on it, and you think having his bastard child is some kind of victory?”
Kane was at my side now, his hand finding my shoulder. Solid. Calming. A silent anchor.
“You should be ashamed,” my mother spat. And then, like flipping a switch, she smiled—a soft, eerie thing—it chilled me to the bone, “You could still fix this, you know. End the mistake. Terminate it. And we’ll set up a meeting with someone who’s worth something—someone who could save you from this pitiful mess.”
I stared at her. The words landed—but didn’t sink in.
I wasn’t a scared girl anymore.
“I love him,” I said quietly. My voice didn’t shake. “Kane never made me feel like less. Not once. That’s more than I can say about either of you and I'm not marrying a man I don't love”
I didn’t say Kane could buy and sell the men that she paraded in front of me like trophies. I didn’t need to.
My mother scoffed. “Better to marry a man you don’t love than birth a bastard in a dump.”
My mother stepped forward again, but this time something in Kane snapped. Kane’s arm slid around my waist, protective and possessive. He stepped between us completely now, voice cold as winter. “That’s enough. Say one more word,” he said, eyes locked on hers, “and I’ll make sure you never step through this door again.”
My mother’s lips parted, but her bravado cracked. I saw it. The tremor. The flicker of fear.
“You threat...ening me?” she hissed.
“No,” Kane said softly. “I’m promising you.”
The silence that followed was dense, humming with something dangerous.
Then Jenna tugged on my mother’s arm. “Let’s go, Mom. She’s not worth it.”
My mother gave me one last look—pure disgust. “You’ve made your choice. Don’t come crawling back.”
“I won’t,” I replied.
Jenna gave one last mocking smile. “Enjoy your little love story.”
I didn’t say anything. I just stood there, chest heaving, heart splitting.
They left. The door clicked closed behind them.
I slumped back against the wall, legs trembling. My breath came in shallow bursts.
Kane caught me before I slid to the floor, his arms wrapping around me, firm and protective. One hand curled over my belly again—his silent vow to protect.
“You okay?” he murmured into my hair.
I nodded against his chest, voice small. “I didn’t think it would hurt like that.”
“They’re gone now,” Kane whispered, his hand smoothing down my back. “You don’t have to face them again. You’ve got me. And I’ve got you. Both of you.”