Stanley withdrew his arm, his eyes cold as the midnight sea.
He stared at Kira, his voice low. "You played me?"
Kira threw off the covers and planted her bare feet on the carpet, standing tall.
She lifted her chin, defiance flashing in her eyes. "I didn't play you. I just wanted you to understand who matters more—me or Chloe."
The air froze. Even their breathing seemed loud.
After a moment, Stanley's hard expression finally softened, a hint of helpless tenderness surfacing between his brows. "You, of course."
He turned and picked up his cigarettes and lighter, exhaustion bleeding into his voice. "Get some sleep. I'll be in the living room playing games."
Kira's eyes flickered. Something else occurred to her, and she stepped forward quickly, grabbing his arm. "Wait—you brought Chloe to Harborcrest to find out the baby's sex, right? Did you get the results? Boy or girl?"
Stanley's back visibly stiffened.
Silence stretched between them. Finally, he spoke, barely above a whisper. "Girl."
"A girl..."
A flicker of disappointment crossed Kira's face, quickly replaced by a tender smile. "A girl is wonderful too. They say daughters take after their fathers—she'll definitely look like you."
She moved closer, standing behind him, her voice sweet. "Actually, I'm grateful Chloe got pregnant with your child. I'm scared of pain, too afraid to give birth myself. Once she has the baby and you two divorce, after we get married—even though she'll be the birth mother and I'll be the stepmother—I get to be a mom without the pain. It's honestly the best thing ever. I'll love that child like my own."
She saw nothing wrong with what she was saying.
After all, in their circles, plenty of women feared losing their figures, didn't want to endure the pain of childbirth, refused to have children themselves. They went overseas.
Surrogacy.
She had a friend who'd just gotten twins that way—a boy and a girl. Stanley knew about these things too.
But.
Birth mother. Stepmother. Those two words sent a tremor through him.
Suddenly, an image surfaced in his mind—Chloe holding that ultrasound printout.
Her eyes had been impossibly bright, the corners of her lips curved upward, as if she were cradling the most precious thing in the world.
That smile had been beautiful.
At least beautiful enough that he hadn't looked away.
Even a dog walking by could have seen from her expression just how much she loved this child, barely formed inside her.
Stanley's throat worked, his Adam's apple bobbing hard. In the end, he simply pulled free of Kira's grip and said gently, "It's late. Get some sleep. I'm going to play for a bit."
Kira's mood lifted. "Okay, but no sneaking off."
Stanley nodded, walked out quickly, and pulled the door shut behind him.
In the living room, the wave of scented air hit him and made him frown.
Some cloying woody fragrance, laced with the sharpness of synthetic perfume. His temples began to throb.
These past weeks with Chloe, her pregnancy had made her crave light, clean scents—citrus, jasmine. Their room always carried hints of orange or white flowers, fresh and calming.
Just tonight, when they'd first arrived at the hotel, the first thing Chloe had done was remove the diffuser and open the windows.
Now this smell was making him faintly nauseous.
He rubbed his brow in irritation. He didn't touch the games. He just dropped heavily onto the sofa.
Drowsiness washed over him like a tide. He closed his eyes, trying to sink into sleep.
Half an hour later, he sat up abruptly. Irritated, he grabbed the cigarettes from the table and lit one.
The smoke rolled through his lungs. The nicotine sharpened his mind slightly, and with it, his desires became clear.
The night had grown too deep. He wanted to go back to Chloe's side and get some real sleep.
A moment later, he stood and pushed open the bedroom door. "Kira."
Water pattered from the bathroom. She was in the shower.
Stanley's eyes darkened. Without hesitation, he shut the door, his fingers flying across his phone screen to call a car.
The night breeze was cool. Neon lights outside the window blurred into streaks of color.
In less than fifteen minutes, he was back.
He swiped his keycard and pushed open the door, his tone light. "Hey, I'm back."
Silence.
He frowned and reached for the light switch. The moment it clicked on, he froze.
Where was Chloe?
