"It's nothing. You mentioned last night that you wanted a baby, so I went to the hospital first thing this morning for a checkup. Getting a head start on the pre-conception stuff."
The truth was, when Arthur suddenly brought up wanting a Heir of our own last night, my heart had nearly burst with joy.
I'd already sensed something over the past few days, a quiet suspicion that I might be pregnant. I wanted to confirm it at the hospital before telling him, to make it a surprise.
But he was the one who surprised me first.
The moment I finished speaking, Arthur released my hand and let out a cold scoff:
"How thoughtful of you. You've actually picked up the tricks those other women use, trying to trap me with a pregnancy, trying to chain me down with a kid."
The men around us wore the same look of contempt. Made men, heirs, silent partners who spent their lives drifting between women. Nothing disgusted them more than a woman using a pregnancy as leverage.
Arthur had always been different from them. He was devoted. He never bothered with flings or casual affairs.
But what I'd just said had dragged him right off that pedestal and down to their level. No wonder he was furious.
He didn't stop me. He let me turn and walk away.
But as I brushed past him, I thought I caught a flash of panic in his eyes. It was gone the next second, his expression perfectly composed again.
I lowered my head and smiled bitterly. My emotions had been all over the place today. I was seeing things.
The moment I stepped outside the social club, I booked an abortion for the next day. Then I purchased a one-way ticket to Ireland, departing in seven days.
I had been so consumed by this burning love that I'd almost forgotten I once had dreams of my own.
Back at the safehouse, I made myself a bowl of hot soup for dinner, same as always.
When Arthur was little, his parents were too consumed with Family business to care. He rarely came home from school to a meal waiting, and over the years his stomach paid the price.
After we got together, I made it a habit to cook him a bowl of hot soup every night.
My Sinclair used to say nothing healed the stomach like a proper broth. She made it for me all the time when I was young. Eventually, I started making it for Arthur instead.
I put real thought into what went in so he wouldn't get tired of it, rotating through different combinations every time.
But tonight, I knew he wasn't coming home to eat.
The pregnancy had already killed my appetite, and after all the crying, I couldn't force anything down. More than half the bowl sat untouched.
I set down my spoon and went to bed. Somewhere in the haze of half-sleep, I dreamed that Arthur came home.
He slipped under the covers and wrapped his arms around me, his voice soft with concern:
"Why didn't you eat a proper dinner? Wait, you're burning up. You have a fever?"
He got out of bed, tucked the blanket snugly around me, and muttered under his breath:
"Can't even leave you alone for a few hours without you making yourself sick."
A moment later, I felt the warmth of a damp towel settle against my forehead.
Arthur brought over a glass of warm water and held two pills to my lips, his voice gentle:
"Be good and take the medicine, okay? You'll feel better once the fever breaks. When you're well again, I'll take you on a trip. Where should we go this time?"
He used to do that whenever I was unhappy, just take me somewhere to clear my head. We'd been to so many places together. We'd promised each other that next time, we'd go to Ireland to see the ancient castles and the forests shrouded in mist.
Well, it didn't matter anymore. I'd be seeing them soon enough, on my own.
Groggy and disoriented, I swatted the pills and the glass away from my mouth.
"No medicine. Medicine is bad for the baby."
The glass hit the floor. I was instantly, completely awake.
Fighting through the fog of sickness, I forced my eyes open. My voice dropped cold:
"The doctor said I shouldn't take anything I don't need while preparing for conception. It could be harmful to the baby later."
Arthur's expression darkened in an instant, anger flashing behind his eyes. His signet ring caught the low light as his hand went still at his side.
