Z

I took four pregnancy tests.

Nicholas bought twelve.

Apparently trauma made him incapable of purchasing anything in reasonable quantities.

We were hiding in a borrowed house outside Madison when I went into the bathroom.

Nicholas waited in the hallway.

Not inside.

I had asked for privacy.

He respected it.

The first test showed two lines.

So did the second.

And the third.

By the fourth, I was sitting on the closed toilet lid with both hands over my mouth.

Pregnant.

Again.

The word didn't bring uncomplicated joy.

Maybe it never would.

It brought happiness.

Terror.

Memory.

Hope.

Grief.

Every emotion entered at once and demanded the same amount of space.

I opened the door.

Nicholas was standing exactly where I left him.

He looked at my face.

Then the tests.

His knees nearly gave out.

“Positive?”

I nodded.

He didn't touch me.

“Can I?”

That question broke me more than anything.

I opened my arms.

Nicholas crossed the hallway in one step.

He held me.

Carefully.

Almost too carefully.

I laughed against his chest.

“You're not going to break me.”

“I know.”

“You look like you don't.”

“I’m working on it.”

His shoulders shook.

It took me a second to realize he was crying.

“Nicholas.”

“I missed the first one.”

I closed my eyes.

“I know.”

“I wasn't there.”

“You are now.”

He pressed his forehead against mine.

“I’m here.”

Later, we told no one.

Not Isabella.

Not Antonio.

Not Luca.

Not Emma.

Not yet.

After everything that had happened, secrecy felt wrong.

But privacy did not.

We were learning the difference.

The threat from Elias Vane changed our plans.

He knew our house.

He knew enough to suspect I might become pregnant.

Maybe he had access to medical data.

Maybe he was guessing.

Either way, we weren't running forever.

Nicholas wanted to.

His first instinct was passports.

A private plane.

Another country.

Disappear.

I watched him plan for exactly four minutes.

Then said, “No.”

He stopped.

“Sofia.”

“No fake deaths.”

“I wasn't suggesting death.”

“International disappearance is death with better food.”

His mouth twitched.

“This is different.”

“Is it?”

“He threatened our child.”

“Our child.”

“Yes.”

“So we decide together.”

Nicholas looked at the floor.

Then closed the laptop.

“Okay.”

That one word showed me more change than a thousand apologies.

We spent the next two days building a plan.

Not to hide.

To expose Helix.

Evelyn gave federal prosecutors the research records.

Samuel turned over names.

Antonio agreed to testify publicly.

Isabella provided access to Moretti corporate archives.

Luca reconstructed the digital trail showing how Nicholas’s biometric approvals had been captured while he was unconscious.

And I?

I had my mother's microfilm.

The thing Elias had spent twenty-five years trying to find.

We made copies.

Dozens.

Attorneys.

Reporters.

Federal investigators.

International outlets.

Nicholas stared at the list.

“You really like backups.”

“My father taught me.”

On Friday morning, Helix Foundation was raided.

Three facilities.

Two offices.

One private research laboratory.

Elias Vane wasn't found.

But hundreds of files were.

Enough to turn rumor into investigation.

Enough to make people with expensive suits start calling criminal lawyers.

Victor heard about it from jail.

According to his attorney, he laughed for nearly a full minute.

Apparently even Victor enjoyed watching larger monsters fall.

Three days later, Nicholas testified before a federal grand jury.

He told them everything.

His businesses.

His crimes.

His father's network.

Victor.

The warehouse.

No excuses.

When he came home, I was waiting at the kitchen table.

“How bad?”

He loosened his tie.

“My attorney used the phrase ‘significant exposure.’”

“That sounds expensive.”

“It is.”

“Prison?”

“Possible.”

My heart tightened.

Nicholas sat opposite me.

“I made choices before I met you.”

“I know.”

“Bad ones.”

“I know.”

“I won't ask you to forgive consequences.”

I reached across the table.

“I won't.”

He smiled faintly.

“Terrifying woman.”

“You married me twice.”

“Technically once.”

“Emotionally twice.”

“Fair.”

That evening, we finally told Emma.

She screamed.

Then cried.

Then threatened Nicholas if he stressed me.

He accepted the threat with appropriate seriousness.

Isabella cried too.

Antonio remained silent for so long I thought the call disconnected.

Then he said, “Your mother would have loved this.”

I wasn't sure which mother he meant.

Mine or Nicholas's.

Maybe both.

For the first time, the future felt possible.

That lasted forty-eight hours.

At 2:07 a.m., our alarm went off.

Nicholas was awake before the first sound finished.

I sat up.

He reached for the gun in the bedside safe.

Security lights activated outside.

No movement.

No broken windows.

No forced door.

Then the television turned on by itself.

Static.

Nicholas pulled me behind him.

The screen changed.

Elias Vane appeared.

Older than I expected.

Thin.

Silver hair.

Kind face.

That was the worst part.

Monsters should have looked like monsters.

He smiled into the camera.

“Hello, Sofia.”

Nicholas’s entire body tensed.

The video was prerecorded.

“I imagine by now you have found Evelyn.”

He paused.

“Tell my sister I forgive her.”

I almost threw something.

“You've also found Eleanor’s files.”

His eyes seemed to look directly at me.

“Your mother misunderstood my work.”

Nicholas muttered, “Of course.”

Elias continued.

“I never wanted to harm her. I wanted to understand why fear destroys families.”

I laughed bitterly.

“You drugged them.”

Nicholas looked back at me.

“I know he can't hear me.”

“Okay.”

The video continued.

“Nicholas is an especially interesting example.”

His face went cold.

“He has twice responded to trauma by attempting to control the people he loves. Once as a child. Once as a husband.”

I grabbed Nicholas’s hand.

Elias smiled.

“And now you are expecting a child.”

My blood froze.

Nicholas squeezed my fingers.

“He knows.”

The video continued.

“Congratulations.”

Nicholas stepped toward the television as if he could kill the screen.

“You wonder how I know.”

Yes.

“I know because the clinic used for your blood work yesterday still participates in a Helix data-sharing network.”

My stomach dropped.

We had gone to a private obstetric clinic under false names.

Still not enough.

Nicholas looked sick.

Elias continued.

“Don't worry. I have no intention of harming your child.”

Nicholas laughed once.

“Comforting.”

“In fact, I want to offer something.”

A photograph appeared.

A laboratory.

Rows of medical equipment.

Then records.

Genetic studies.

Pregnancy outcomes.

“Your miscarriage may not have been accidental.”

I stopped breathing.

Nicholas turned slowly toward the screen.

No.

We had already rebuilt this grief.

We were not doing it again.

Elias appeared again.

“Victor altered your records after the fact. But he did not cause the loss.”

We knew that.

“I did not cause it either.”

My chest tightened.

“Then who?”

The screen changed.

A hospital hallway.

Date.

Time.

The night I miscarried.

A woman entered my room.

Blond.

Fifty.

Marianne.

She placed something into the IV line.

I stopped breathing.

“No.”

Nicholas stared.

The video zoomed.

Marianne looked terrified.

Someone stood outside the room.

Only an arm visible.

A man's watch.

Elias spoke.

“Marianne was instructed to administer medication.”

Nicholas's grip crushed mine.

“By who?”

The camera angle changed.

The man outside stepped partly into view.

I knew him.

Nicholas knew him.

We both stopped breathing.

Luca Romano.

Nicholas’s oldest friend.