So she laced the pastries I loved most with the Barren Dose, and I never suspected a thing.
"Lola, my stomach hurts so badly. I just swallowed it, there's still time. Please, go find a doctor."
She didn't move. My voice cracked raw with panic. "I won't marry you, alright? I won't. I don't want to live like this, worse than death. Once I'm better, I'll leave. I'll go far away. I won't stand in your way, I swear."
No matter how I begged until my throat gave out, Lola didn't flinch.
She held out her arm. "Bite down on me. It won't hurt as much."
I shoved her arm away. "Go find a doctor. I'm begging you, Lola."
"Alaric, stop talking nonsense. No family physician is going to treat someone of your station."
"The drug's already taken hold. It's too late. Just be good. Even if you can never have children again, my child will still call you father."
I gripped her hand so hard my knuckles went white. "Lola, listen to me. I am the Young Don. Dominic Valente's own son. Go find a doctor to save me. Now."
But she thought I was lying. She wrenched her hand free, anger flashing across her face.
"You've really disappointed me. There's a limit to how far a lie should go. This is the compound, not some coastal backwater of yours. One wrong word here can get you buried where nobody finds the body."
She straightened her jacket and turned on her heel.
"It's only barrenness. It won't kill you. Look after yourself."
I watched her walk away, and the last shred of hope inside me died.
I curled into the corner. The feeling below my waist began to fade, replaced by a pain so sharp I could barely breathe.
I would probably never have children again. And the one child I had prayed for day and night turned out to belong to someone else.
I drifted in and out of consciousness through the night. Below my waist, everything had gone numb long ago.
The door burst open with a single kick. Milton Crane strode in with a handful of soldiers behind him.
He glanced at me, drenched in blood on the floor, then settled himself at the table and poured a glass of wine as though he had all the time in the world. The glass caught the overhead light. He turned it once, studying the color, before he drank.
"Don't blame me. After all, the child in Lola's belly is mine. Can't very well have him calling another man father, can we?"
I braced myself against the wall, barely upright. "So you'd rob me of ever having children again?"
Milton let out a short laugh. "Now that's unfair. Lola was the one who laced the food. Lola was the one who decided you wouldn't keep the child. I merely... mentioned the idea."
I stared at him, nails digging into my palms until I felt skin break.
He rose and walked over to me. "Though, you should count yourself lucky the child isn't yours. Imagine it growing up and calling me 'Father.' How would you stomach that?"
"Bring the tonic over. Make her drink it. Build up her strength."
The soldiers pried my jaw open and forced the liquid down my throat. I recognized the taste. The Severance Compound.
I thrashed, tried to spit it out, but they held me fast, fingers clamped around my face. The burn of it spread through my chest like something alive.
Milton crouched in front of me and patted my cheek, slow and deliberate, every touch a humiliation. The room was silent except for the wet sound of my breathing and the faint creak of his leather shoes on the floor. "Can't have you coveting Lola down the line. Can't have you producing more heirs and stirring up trouble."
"My alliance ceremony's in two days. Still need to go try on my Golden Circlet. If you'll excuse me."
As he stood, the saint's medallion at his collar swung into view. He made no effort to hide it.
It was Lola's. She had told me it was the only thing her mother left her. The one piece of the old life she said she'd never part with. And she had given it to Milton Crane.
He paused at the door, as if just remembering. "Oh, right. Lola transferred the deed to this property into my name. I hear you're fond of the quiet life. Just remember, you're living under my roof now. Mind my rules."
My whole body went rigid. When Lola burned down the cottage, she had told me this estate was bought for me. That I could fill it with lemon trees and gardens.
From the very beginning, she had never intended to give me anything.
"Milton Crane."
I called after him, my voice scraped hollow.
"Has the Crane heir ever laid eyes on the Young Don?"
