Katrina’s POV
I stared at him, heart pounding, confusion still clouding my mind like a heavy fog that refused to lift. “What do you mean, what did I hear?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly. “Who did you get pregnant?”
There was a pause. Not the kind that comes with guilt, or shame, but something else. Something unreadable.
Adolphus, no, Marcus, didn’t answer immediately. His gaze remained steady as he lifted his arm and pointed at me, his finger slicing through the air with slow, deliberate precision.
“You,” he said finally.
The word hit me like a brick to the chest.
His voice was calm, almost too calm, and yet there was something sharp in it. Something final. Like he wasn’t just giving me an answer, he was giving me truth.
“You’re the one they’re talking about.”
I blinked, trying to absorb what he’d just said. My mind stuttered, trying to reorder itself. That couldn’t be right. It didn’t make any sense. He couldn’t be talking about me, I would know. Wouldn’t I?
Before I could ask, before I could even breathe the next question, the door behind him creaked open. The sound of hinges broke through the moment like a warning bell.
His mother stepped into the hallway.
She was elegant, composed, her expression unreadable. But the glint in her eyes, somewhere between amusement and calculation, made my stomach knot. She looked at us like we were nothing more than a passing curiosity.
“Is there something wrong?” she asked, her voice light, almost playful, like she was commenting on the weather rather than walking into the middle of a confrontation.
I couldn’t help myself.
The question tumbled out before I could stop it, raw and panicked. “Which of the maids did he get pregnant?”
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. I could feel Marcus go still beside me.
His mother raised a perfectly shaped brow, her lips curling into the faintest smirk. “Did you eavesdrop, Katrina?” she asked with an almost girlish lilt. It was teasing, like a joke shared between friends. But I wasn’t laughing.
I shook my head quickly, cheeks burning. “No, I didn’t eavesdrop,” I said, my words rushing out in a tumble. “I wanted to meet you. I wanted to talk to you. But I overheard the conversation and I—”
She laughed again.
It was light, casual, effortless. And it only made my chest tighten more.
I felt like the ground had been yanked out from under me.
What was so funny? What had I misunderstood? Why wasn’t anyone explaining anything?
Adolphus, my mind kept screaming, didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile. His expression was different now. Still calm, but firmer. Focused. His hands moved with purpose, settling on my waist, pulling me gently but firmly against him. His eyes searched mine, holding them in place.
“My name is Marcus,” he said quietly. “Not Adolphus. My father’s name is Adolphus. They were talking about him, not me.”
His words struck like lightning.
I stared at him, my mouth parting slightly. My lungs refused to pull in air. My thoughts tried to regroup, but they couldn’t. They just kept circling, disoriented.
Marcus. Not Adolphus. Marcus. The name echoed inside my head.
He hadn’t lied. Not really. But I had assumed. My lips trembled, but I couldn’t say anything. My mind was too full of static.
Then, softly, gently, his voice reached me again.
“And you’re pregnant for me.”
Time seemed to freeze.
He smiled, faintly, almost apologetically, as if he knew how hard it would be for me to believe. Then he reached down and rested his palm against my abdomen. His hand was warm. Solid. And far too real.
I followed the motion with wide eyes, my gaze locking on the way his fingers curved protectively over the flat plane of my stomach.
“You’re not sick, Katrina,” he said, voice low and reverent. “Our heir is on his way instead.”
The words slid into the silence like a key into a lock.
Pregnant?
The thought barely formed before my breath hitched, sharp and shallow.
I looked down at his hand. Then to my stomach. Then back at him. And for the first time in what felt like forever, I couldn’t breathe.
A gasp tore from my throat as realization crashed over me like a wave. My fingers, shaking uncontrollably, lifted to hover just above the slight curve of my abdomen. I hadn’t noticed it before. Or maybe I had. Maybe I’d been trying not to.
My skin tingled under my own touch as I made contact. A flicker of warmth and of life.
“I—” My voice failed me.
The hallway dimmed around the edges. Not from darkness. From clarity. Everything else fell away.
Marcus’s expression remained steady, his thumb brushing the fabric of my shirt in soft circles. His presence grounded me even as my world shifted.
I was pregnant.
And everything was about to change.