The morning sun pierced through the gap in the heavy blackout curtains, stabbing Cora directly in the eyes. She gasped, her eyes flying open. She was lying in the center of a massive, tangled bed. Every muscle in her body screamed in protest. Her thighs ached. Her skin felt bruised.
She turned her head against the silk pillowcase.
Jace Bauer was asleep beside her. Even in unconsciousness, he looked dangerous. His brow was slightly furrowed, his jaw set. The sheets were pooled around his waist, exposing a chest covered in faint, pale scars.
Cora didn't linger. She didn't feel a spark of romance. She felt a cold, terrifying clarity.
She slid out from under the covers, her bare feet hitting the plush carpet. She gathered her torn red dress from the floor, pulled it over her head, and found her stilettos. She didn't leave a note. She didn't leave a phone number. She walked out of the suite, slipped out the back door of SoHo House, and vanished into the freezing morning air.
One month later.
Cora gripped the edges of the porcelain sink in her cramped Brooklyn apartment. She heaved, her stomach violently expelling nothing but bile and water. She spat into the drain, her hands shaking so hard they rattled against the ceramic.
A knock sounded on the bathroom door.
"Cora? You okay?" Mel called out, her voice laced with worry. "Is it that stomach bug from set again?"
Cora turned on the cold water. She splashed it over her pale face, shocked by the dark circles under her eyes. She stared at her reflection. A terrifying, impossible thought clawed its way into her brain.
"I'm fine," Cora managed to say, her voice raspy. "Just ate something bad."
She grabbed a towel, dried her face, and unlocked the door. She pushed past Mel, grabbed her oversized coat, and pulled a baseball cap low over her eyes.
"I need to go to the pharmacy."
She practically ran down the three flights of stairs. She marched into the CVS on the corner, keeping her head down. She bypassed the cold medicine and went straight to the family planning aisle. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She grabbed three different boxes of pregnancy tests, threw them on the counter, and paid in cash.
Back in her apartment, she locked the bathroom door again.
She ripped open the boxes. Her fingers were clumsy, tearing the cardboard. She followed the instructions, lining the three plastic sticks up on the edge of the sink.
Five minutes.
She sat on the edge of the bathtub, staring at the peeling paint on the wall. She counted her breaths. In. Out. Her chest felt tight enough to snap.
When the timer on her phone went off, it sounded like a fire alarm in the small room.
Cora stood up. She forced herself to look down at the sink.
One stick. Two pink lines.
Second stick. A solid blue plus sign.
Third stick. The word Pregnant glowing on the digital screen.
The air left her lungs in a rush. Her knees buckled, and she gripped the sink to stay upright. A wave of pure, unadulterated shock washed over her, instantly followed by a dark, twisted surge of triumph.
She was pregnant. With Jace Bauer's child.
She reached out and grabbed the plastic sticks. Her fingernails dug into the plastic. This wasn't just a child. This was a weapon. This was the ultimate leverage.
She wrapped the tests carefully in a paper towel, placed them in a plastic bag, and hid them in the very back of her bottom drawer, buried under old sweaters.
When she walked out into the living room, Mel was flipping through a magazine on the couch.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," Mel said, tossing the magazine aside.
Cora walked to the kitchenette and poured a glass of water. She took a sip. Her hand was completely steady now.
"I didn't see a ghost," Cora said, her voice eerily calm. "I found the ultimate bargaining chip."
Mel frowned. "What are you talking about? Did you get that supporting role?"
Cora's lips curved into a cold, sharp smile. "Better. A million times better."
She didn't elaborate. She pulled out her phone and dialed the billing department at Mount Sinai Hospital.
"This is Cora Nolan. I'm calling about Julian Nolan's account."
The woman on the other end sighed. "Ms. Nolan. The funds Mr. Malone wired last month on your behalf have been depleted. The experimental drugs are expensive. If we don't receive another installment by Friday, we will have to suspend treatment."
"Understood," Cora said, her voice flat. She hung up.
She had three days.
She opened her laptop and typed Jace Bauer's name into the search engine. She bypassed the articles about his ruthless corporate takeovers and clicked on the society pages.
BAUER EMPIRE TO SPONSOR MET GALA CHARITY DINNER TOMORROW NIGHT.
A photo of Jace in a tuxedo filled the screen.
Cora reached out and traced the line of his jaw on the monitor. "Game on," she whispered.
She picked up her phone and called a wardrobe assistant she knew from a low-budget indie film. She needed a dress. Something elegant. Something that looked like it belonged at the Met, even if she had to rent it, costing the last two thousand dollars on her credit card, a debt she had no idea how she'd repay.
That night, Cora sat at her small desk. The single desk lamp cast long shadows across the room. She stared at the drawer where the tests were hidden. She knew the moment she revealed this secret, she would be stepping into a war zone. Jace Bauer would try to destroy her. Axel would try to kill her.
But she thought of Julian, lying in that hospital bed, his skin cold as ice.
She closed her eyes and locked away every ounce of fear, every shred of hesitation.
