–Livana–
Alyssa gasped, theatrically covering her mouth like she was in a bad soap opera.
"How do you know that?" she asked, her voice laced with giddy curiosity. She wanted in—wanted to be a part of the scandal. Of course she did. That’s her kind of thrill: playing innocent while feasting on gossip.
"So? Is she?" Tyrona sneered, arms crossed. "What took you so long to get pregnant? Weren’t you already screwing him while you were still engaged?"
I tilted my head and offered a coy smile. "Well, the condom broke." I shrugged. "And what do you care, Tyrona? I’m married, rember?"
I tugged gently on Choco’s leash. Alejandro crouched slightly, trying to coax him, but Choco growled low—deep, territorial, protective. On alert.
"Your dog? Can’t you ta it?" Alejandro snapped.
"He’s tad," I said smoothly, brushing imaginary lint from my oversized shirt. "He just has excellent instincts when it cos to sniffing out ill-intentioned bastards."
Alyssa giggled nervously. She was eating all this up. Of course she was.
"Let’s go, Aly." I snapped my fingers, and our casually-dressed bodyguards erged from the background, taking our shopping bags like we were red-carpet royalty. Effortless. Efficient. And completely blocking Alejandro and Tyrona in the process.
I felt their eyes on —burning, questioning. I didn’t look pregnant, not in this skort Damon picked, but the slightly oversized top created just enough ambiguity to keep them guessing. Damon likes my legs. He said so himself. Said I look "dangerously good" in short skirts. Who am I to argue?
"That guy’s gawking at you," Alyssa whispered.
I sighed. "Let him. I want Tyrona to seethe."
I gave a little laugh. Velvet-smooth. The kind that made people wonder if I knew sothing they didn’t. Because I always do.
"But are you really pregnant?" she asked, studying .
I only smiled.
"I’ll have a baby soon," I said airily. I didn’t clarify. I was talking about my twins. The ones not in my womb, but in my heart—my future niece or nephew. I would love them like my own.
"I can’t wait for a nephew or niece!" she squealed.
We strolled into the café, our guards settling into surrounding tables as if they were simply regulars ordering lunch. I stayed in character—still the blind wife, still the helpless one. Alyssa read the nu aloud as if she were doing a favor.
My phone buzzed. I pulled the wired headset from my bag and slid it discreetly into my ears. On cue, Sophia’s voice blasted through.
"I hate it! G5? Are you serious? I checked the damn map twice. G5 is in Virginia."
"Uh-huh." I nodded toward Alyssa with a soft smile. "Darling, could you get their bestseller, please?"
"Sure," she chirped, rising. Sophia raged on.
"The compass blew off!"
I tilted my head slightly, watching through my dark sunglasses. Across the street, Alejandro and Tyrona lingered outside a boutique. Watching . Good. I wanted them to wonder. Is she still blind? Or just playing us all?
"Are you even listening? How the hell did the compass blow off?"
"My mother has the original samples I retrieved from the vault," I murmured. "It will self-destruct on my command."
A pause.
Then I chuckled. "Go to G5. Secure everything."
Sophia hissed, "You owe a damn good vacation."
"You’re a workaholic," I teased. "You wouldn’t recognize a vacation if it hit you with a piña colada."
She scoffed and hung up.
I slipped the headset back into my bag and leaned into the rattan chair. Cushioned. Comfortable. Like I owned the world. Because I did.
"Oh, Damon’s here," Alyssa said, glancing up.
I didn’t need to look. I felt him.
My husband walked up behind , kissed the crown of my head gently—like a secret—and pulled a chair beside .
"What are they doing here?" he asked, voice edged with irritation.
"Darling, be nice," I said sweetly, the kind of tone that left no room for debate. Alyssa pushed the nu toward him like a good little girl. I watched every move behind my dark lenses.
"Fine, baby." He smirked. "What are we doing here, by the way?"
"To Hers. I bought Alyssa a bag."
Alyssa gasped. "They released it?!"
"Yes."
"But that’s a five-year waitlist!?"
I smiled. "Don’t worry. This one was ordered years ago. ant for business... and a little flair."
She fidgeted with excitent.
"You’re spoiling her," Damon murmured, a trace of amusent in his sigh.
"Of course I am."
"Where to next?" he asked.
"To spend my money," I said with a shrug, crossing my legs slowly, deliberately.
He leaned closer, his hand finding my bare thigh. "Interesting."
My phone buzzed again. This ti, an unregistered number. I declined the first call. Waited. The second rang. I slid in my earplugs and answered—silent.
"White Queen." A woman’s voice. Cold. Unfamiliar.
"Who is this?"
"The Pentagon. This is Agent Kelsie. Enjoying your group date?"
A smirk tugged at my lips. So, they were watching.
I glanced at Choco, curled near my feet, eyes half-lidded. Resting, but alert.
"And what makes you think you can call and threaten ?" I said softly, turning my head slightly—just enough to see her. She was seated a few tables away, casually eating. From this distance, no one would suspect we were speaking.
"Madrigal. He’s the one who sent n after you."
"I know."
"And Tyrona... She’s the one who leaked the compass to the Indian syndicate. I assu you’re aware."
I paused.
No. That I didn’t know.
But I didn’t let it show. My silence was calculated.
"That’s... interesting," I murmured.
"Visit us in Virginia, White Queen."
"Let think about it," I said, then ended the call.
I didn’t look away from her—not imdiately. She put her phone down like nothing happened. None of them knew I could see. Pretending to be blind had its perks. It let watch without being watched.
"Who was it?" Damon asked beside , watching far too intently.
"Nothing, dear. Just business," I said, smiling like a woman with nothing to hide.
But he knew better.
He always does.
And that’s what makes this ga so thrilling.
–Laura–
I stepped quietly into my sister’s study.
And I stopped—just stood there and gaped.
The room was wider than I rembered. Sleek, pristine, but hiding secrets behind its polished wood and sharp lines. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were hidden doors... or even a panic room like the one in Damon’s study. Everything Livana owned seed to have layers—nothing ever truly as it seed on the surface.
I drifted inside, drawn to the wedding portrait hung near the shelves. My eyes lingered on it.
Livana wasn’t even looking at Damon in the photo.
But he was.
That look. Like she was his whole world. Like she was made of glass and fire and maybe even danger—but he’d risk everything to touch her anyway. My throat tightened unexpectedly.
She looked beautiful. Regal, even. Her eyes—those rare, gleaming eyes—shimred like crystal in the portrait. Or athyst. Cold, fragile, srizing. I used to envy her eyes, always had. But as I got older, I started to understand the pain behind their glow. How much they hid. How much they cost her.
And Damon? He was completely, utterly ruined for anyone else.
I yawned, brushing away my thoughts, and turned—
"Oh. Hey, Logan." I blinked.
He was standing by the doorway like he belonged there, like he always had. I flopped onto the plush sofa, sinking into the softness. God, there was even a massage chair here. Maybe I should try that soday... if it’s safe for pregnant won. I wasn’t sure. I should Google that later.
Logan walked in casually, then took the seat across from . He just sat there, staring.
I tilted my head at him. "What?"
He didn’t look away. "You really planned that."
My hand moved instinctively over my belly—still barely showing, just a small swell under my shirt. "Yes," I said with a small scoff. "Why?"
He stared harder. "You should’ve just asked ."
I blinked. Wait. What?
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"You know I like you. I’ve always liked you. I wanted to marry you, Laura. But instead..." His jaw flexed. "You chose a bastard from Blackwell."
"Yeah," I said quietly. "I did."
I looked him dead in the eye.
"Because I love him."
Logan’s expression barely changed. He never showed much. Always too calm. Too unreadable.
"You wouldn’t understand," I went on. "You’ve always been out there doing whatever Livana tells you to do. Like so emotionless soldier."
"I chose this job."
"And Damien didn’t. That’s the difference. He stayed." My voice softened. "I chose him."
A beat passed.
"And even if I didn’t, Logan..." I smiled faintly. "I don’t think I could ever love you."
He stood abruptly. His body language was stiff. Wounded, maybe, in that quiet, locked-up way of his.
"Logan," I called after him as he reached the door. He stopped, but didn’t turn around.
"Stop being like this," I said, gently but firmly. "Damien might be a bastard, but he doesn’t deserve to be treated like trash. I love him. And I’m having his children. Just... accept it. We’re still family, aren’t we?"
But he didn’t say a word.
He just walked away—left the door wide open behind him, like he always did when he didn’t know how to close things properly.
I sighed and rubbed my belly.
"Okay, babies," I whispered with a little smile, "your Uncle Logan is being annoying again. Immature, too."
I leaned back, stroking my tummy gently. "Now, all we have to do is be healthy. And maybe, just maybe, stop being picky with food, okay? We’re in this together."
I don’t know if they could hear yet, but I spoke to them anyway. Damien always did. Every night, he’d whisper to them. Read to them. Sing, sotis, even if his voice cracked.
He took care of better than anyone ever had. And sotis... sotis I had to slip away for a mont just to let him rest.
He’s working so hard now. Earning his place. Fixing the pieces his family broke. Damien might be rich, but not all of that money ca from the right places. He’s determined to clean it up—to build sothing better. Earn it. He said he’d pay for everything.
And the money I used to give him?
He never spent a single cent.
Instead, he opened a bank account in my na.
Labeled it: "Our Future."
Just those two words.
My lips trembled as I rembered holding that bank book. My throat tightened, and tears gathered before I could stop them. I sniffled and let one fall, pressing my hand to my belly again.
"What did I do to deserve a man like him?" I whispered.
I didn’t know.
But I wasn’t going to waste it.
Not for a second.
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