Arabella's POV
The moment I called him by his familiar nickname, I saw the tension leave Nathaniel’s body.
His shoulders relaxed almost instantly, and the guarded look in his eyes softened into something that would have looked reassuring to anyone who did not know him as intimately as I did. For years, only I had called him Dom. It was a name reserved for the rare moments when I was affectionate, vulnerable, or desperate to bridge the emotional distance that had grown between us over time. Hearing it now clearly reassured him that nothing had changed, and whatever suspicion had briefly stirred in him seemed to disappear.
He crossed the room and bent toward me, intending to kiss me, but just before his lips touched mine, I turned my head slightly so that his kiss landed against my cheek.
“I’m tired,” I said as I pulled the blanket over myself. “It’s been a long day.”
Something in his expression tightened for the briefest moment, though he concealed it quickly behind a practiced smile.
“Of course,” he said gently. “You should rest.”
His voice remained warm, but I did not miss the flicker of irritation in his eyes. Nathaniel had never handled rejection well, especially not from me. He had become accustomed to my devotion and to the certainty that no matter how distant or cold he became, I would always be the one to close the gap between us.
Before either of us spoke again, his phone lit up on the bedside table.
Nathaniel reached for it immediately.
I watched him carefully.
The faint irritation vanished from his face almost at once, replaced by a warmth so effortless and genuine that something inside me turned to ice. The corners of his mouth lifted into a smile, and although he tried to suppress it, there was no mistaking the tenderness in his expression.
He got out of bed and began dressing with unusual haste.
“Something came up at the office,” he said while buttoning his shirt without looking at me. “I may be gone for a few hours.”
“Of course,” I replied evenly. “Take your time.”
He stopped.
Surprise flashed across his face.
Ordinarily, I would have asked questions. I would have reminded him how often urgent business seemed to drag him away in the middle of the night. I would have complained that even the head of Ashford Holdings owed his wife more than occasional scraps of attention.
Tonight, however, I offered no resistance.
His phone lit up again.
Whatever confusion he felt disappeared beneath renewed urgency.
“I love you,” he said softly as he moved toward the door.
The words barely registered.
Only after he disappeared into the hallway did I allow myself to whisper the truth into the silence.
“And I hate you.”
Sleep never truly came that night. I drifted in and out of restless exhaustion, and when dawn finally arrived, Nathaniel still had not returned.
I felt no surprise.
He had most likely spent the night with Genevieve.
The thought should have shattered me.
Instead, it left behind only a dull numbness.
After dressing, I left for the private clinic where I had scheduled the procedure.
The drive passed in complete silence. My thoughts were too tangled to form anything coherent, and by the time I entered the procedure room, my heartbeat had become painfully loud.
The room was warm and softly lit, designed to calm anxious patients. The scent of antiseptic mingled with lavender from a diffuser in the corner. Everything about the space was meant to feel safe.
Nothing could quiet the storm inside me.
The doctor stood beside the examination bed, her expression gentle but serious.
“Are you certain about this, Mrs. Sterling?”
I opened my mouth to answer.
No sound came.
My hand moved instinctively to my stomach.
Memories rose without warning.
Noah’s bright laughter.
His tiny hand wrapped around my finger.
The way his face lit up every time he ran toward me.
The joy he had brought into my life.
Tears burned behind my eyes.
I could not do it.
I could not willingly end this life.
Not after losing him.
Not after everything.
“I can’t,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I’ve changed my mind.”
The doctor studied me for a moment before nodding with quiet understanding.
“That is entirely your decision,” she said. “Take all the time you need.”
My child deserved the chance to live.
Whatever darkness surrounded me, this baby was innocent.
This child was mine.
And I would never allow anyone to take another child from me.
When I finally left the clinic, my mind remained heavy with thought. I barely noticed where I was walking until a familiar laugh reached my ears.
I froze.
Every muscle in my body tightened.
Nathaniel.
Genevieve.
They were walking out of the maternity wing together, smiling with the comfortable intimacy of two people who had long stopped caring whether the world noticed them.
Nathaniel’s hand rested against the small of Genevieve’s back as he leaned down to say something that made her laugh softly.
Then my gaze dropped.
Genevieve’s hand rested protectively over her stomach.
Understanding hit me with brutal clarity.
She was pregnant.
They saw me before I could turn away.
Genevieve’s face paled immediately.
“Arabella.”
She hurried toward me, wide-eyed, her concern carefully arranged.
“This isn’t what it looks like. Nathaniel only came to accompany me.”
“Don’t apologize, Genevieve,” Nathaniel said, resting a hand on her shoulder.
His eyes softened when he looked at her.
The tenderness there was impossible to miss.
“You’ve done nothing wrong.”
I smiled.
Even I was surprised by how calm I sounded.
“Yes,” I said, meeting his gaze. “You’re right. She hasn’t done anything wrong.”
I stood there watching them.
The way he protected her.
The way warmth radiated from him whenever she was near.
The way his body instinctively positioned itself as though shielding her from the world.
Everything I had once believed belonged to me had never truly been mine.
Both of them seemed unsettled by my composure.
In the past, seeing them too close would have stirred jealousy in me. Nathaniel always dismissed my concerns with irritation, accusing me of being insecure.
She’s your sister, Arabella. She’s married. We’re only friends.
I had believed him every single time.
Nathaniel finally turned toward me.
“We’ll talk at home,” he said. “Let me take Genevieve first.”
I did not hesitate.
“Take your time.”
I moved past them without waiting for a response.
Then I stopped and looked back.
“And congratulations on the baby, Genevieve.”
The silence behind me told me everything.
Neither of them had expected that.
By evening, Nathaniel returned home much earlier than usual.
He entered our bedroom quietly, but I already sensed him.
“You’re early,” I said without looking up from the book resting in my lap.
“Yes,” he replied after a pause. “I finished early because I wanted to spend time with my wife.”
He leaned down to kiss me.
Again, I shifted just enough for his lips to brush my cheek.
Nathaniel froze.
I kept my gaze on the page, though I had not read a single word.
After a long silence, he sat beside me.
“I feel as though we’ve grown distant,” he said quietly. “Maybe I should step back from work for a while.”
I gave a small shrug.
“You’ve been busy. I understand.”
His brows slowly drew together.
He knew how unlike me this was.
For years, I had begged for scraps of his time.
Now I offered indifference.
His voice lowered.
“What is going on, Arabella?”
I finally lifted my gaze to meet his.
I studied the man I had once loved with all my heart. I studied the face I had kissed, trusted, and built a life around. It amazed me how easily monsters could wear beautiful faces.
Then I closed the book and asked the question that made his entire body go still.
“Why are you acting like a husband now,” I said calmly, “when you’ve spent years being someone else’s lover?”
