I didn't remember the walk back home.
My fingers clutched the hospital report like it was some cursed scroll, something I wanted to toss into a fire and pretend I never saw. Pregnant. The word kept echoing in my head like a cruel whisper. The idea of carrying Darius's child sent a chill down my spine—like my body was no longer mine.
When I got back to the mansion, I breathed a sigh of relief the moment I realized the coast was clear. Darius wasn't home. His presence always felt like a heavy shadow stretching across the halls, and right now, I needed silence. I needed space. I needed to think.
I walked quietly into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. The room felt too big, too cold… like the news inside me didn't belong in a place like this. I placed my hand gently on my stomach, still flat, still unfamiliar.
I had to tell him.
Eventually.
But not today.
I wasn't ready to see the look on his face, or worse—hear the things he might say. Would he call me names? Accuse me of trying to trap him? Would he even care? No. Not Darius. He'd probably shrug and say something like, "Make sure the child doesn't get in my way." That man had no softness left in him. He made sure I knew that every day.
I was still deep in my spiraling thoughts when a knock echoed from the door. I blinked, startled.
"Come in," I said, standing quickly and wiping my face just in case the worry had etched itself too visibly.
The door opened, and to my surprise, it wasn't Darius—it was his mother.
Mrs. Kerlin stepped in, regal as ever, her presence warm but commanding. Her hair was pinned up elegantly, her dress a soft lavender shade that flowed as she moved.
"Oh, dear," she said, smiling softly. "I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time?"
I shook my head. "No, ma'am. Not at all."
"Please, it's Kerlin—or Mother, if that makes you more comfortable," she said with a small wink, then glanced around the room. "You know, since we arrived, we haven't had a proper conversation. I thought I'd steal you for a few minutes. Come downstairs with me, hmm?"
I hesitated. But what excuse could I even give?
"Alright," I muttered.
As I followed her through the corridor and down the grand stairs, I couldn't help but wonder how such a gentle, graceful woman had raised someone as cold and hardened as Darius. She looked back at me briefly, then smiled again.
"You're as strong as you look," she said softly. "I see the way you carry yourself."
I didn't know whether to thank her or stay quiet.
When we entered the sitting room, she gestured for me to sit beside her. A tray of tea and small cakes was already set up. Everything looked delicate, perfect—like it belonged in a picture frame.
"Ivanna," she began gently, pouring a cup of tea, "I know this wasn't your choice. But you're here now. And I know my son can be… difficult. Cold. But things aren't always as black and white as they seem."
I watched her quietly, her words tugging at something inside me.
If only she knew what I was hiding.
If only she knew what her son had done.
If only she knew that in my womb… something
had already begun.
I sat there, cup of tea in hand, pretending to sip while my thoughts swirled like a storm. My stomach felt empty—maybe from the vomiting earlier, or maybe because of the weight of Mrs. Kerlin's words that were slowly weaving into my bones.
She smiled at me again, that gentle, graceful smile that made her look like the perfect queen in every way. "You know, I've watched you since the wedding, Ivanna. You're not weak… not even close. You're fierce. You carry yourself with strength even when you don't speak. That's why I said yes to this union."
I blinked, confused. "You… said yes?"
She nodded slowly, placing her teacup back into its saucer. "Darius didn't choose this marriage. We did. I did. Because I saw someone who wouldn't bow easily, someone who wouldn't cower from my son's shadow. You're ruthless. Brave. And that's exactly what he needs beside him."
I looked down, biting the inside of my cheek. Brave. Ruthless. Maybe once. But lately, I just felt like a puppet forced into a palace too big and too cold.
Mrs. Kerlin leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping. "Ivanna… I want you to try. Just… try to talk to him. With softness. He's a man, not a machine. He may act like steel, but he bleeds too. You're his wife now—use your place."
I looked at her, startled. "Lure him? You want me to lure that beast?" I laughed bitterly, more to myself. "I don't even think he sees me as a human being. He sees a pawn. A duty. A tool to fulfill whatever throne fantasy he's chasing."
She didn't get angry. She just sat back, her expression unreadable, her hands folded neatly on her lap. "You're allowed to be angry. I was, too, when I first married the King. But there's more to Darius than you see. He's not his father. Not completely."
I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe that deep down there was something salvageable in that man. But every time I looked at Darius, all I saw were his cold eyes, his rigid shoulders, the heavy air that always surrounded him… the way he never touched me unless it was for his own need. And the way he made me feel—small, unwanted, used.
"I don't know if I want anything to do with him," I admitted quietly.
She reached over and placed a gentle hand on mine. "Then don't do it for him. Do it for yourself. Don't let him harden you."
I didn't know what to say. I couldn't even look her in the eyes. So I nodded slightly, just to end the conversation.
Mrs. Kerlin stood and dusted her palms. "Come with me," she said softly.
I raised an eyebrow. "Where?"
"To the royal kitchen," she smiled. "We're going to bake."
I almost choked. "Bake?"
"Yes. It's my way of de-stressing. You might like it."
I almost said no. Almost. But instead, I found myself getting up and following her. Maybe because the warmth in her voice felt like the first gentle thing I'd felt in days. Or maybe because I just needed to feel like a person again—even if just for a moment.
God, I still hated Darius… but maybe I didn't have to hate everything.