Purchased Vows

Chapter 6: The Discovery

Two weeks after the family dinner, everything changed.

It started with a morning. A normal morning, except I woke up feeling off. Nauseous. Dizzy. I chalked it up to stress, to the constant tension of living with Marcus, to the way my life had become a performance.

But the nausea didn't go away. It got worse. Every morning, the same thing. Waking up sick, my stomach churning, my head spinning.

I ignored it. Pretended it wasn't happening. Because acknowledging it meant acknowledging something else. Something I'd been trying to forget.

The night after the family dinner, I'd been in my room, crying. Crying because Marcus had hurt me, because he'd pushed me away, because I was starting to care about someone who didn't care about me.

I'd gone downstairs for water, and he'd been there. In the kitchen, a bottle of whiskey in his hand, his eyes dark and haunted.

"Olivia." His voice had been rough, broken. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"It's fine," I'd said, trying to walk past him. "You were right. I'm just a contract. I don't matter."

But he'd caught my arm, his grip gentle but firm. "You do matter. You matter more than you should."

And then he'd kissed me.

Not the fake kiss from our wedding. Not the performance kisses at events. A real kiss. Desperate. Hungry. Like he was drowning and I was air.

I should have pushed him away. Should have remembered the contract, the rules, the boundaries. But I didn't. Because in that moment, with his mouth on mine and his hands in my hair, I wanted him. I wanted this. I wanted to forget that this was all fake.

One thing led to another. Clothes came off. Bodies came together. And for one night, we weren't playing roles. We weren't performing. We were just two people, desperate for connection, desperate to feel something real.

In the morning, he'd been gone. And when I saw him later, he'd been cold again. Distant. Like nothing had happened.

"Last night was a mistake," he'd said, his voice flat. "It won't happen again."

And it hadn't. He'd avoided me completely, staying in his wing, working late, coming home after I was already in bed.

But now, three weeks later, I was standing in the bathroom, staring at a pregnancy test, and my world was crashing down around me.

Two pink lines.

Positive.

I sank onto the bathroom floor, my hands shaking, my breath coming in short gasps. This couldn't be happening. This wasn't supposed to happen. We'd used protection—hadn't we? I couldn't remember. Everything from that night was a blur of heat and need and desperation.

A baby. I was having a baby. Marcus's baby.

The thought made my stomach drop. What would he say? What would he do? He'd made it clear this was a transaction. That I was temporary. That when the year was up, I'd disappear.

But now there was a baby. A permanent connection. A reason to stay.

Or a reason for him to hate me even more.

I called Sarah first, my hands shaking so badly I could barely hold the phone.

"Liv? What's wrong? You sound terrible."

"I'm pregnant," I whispered, the words feeling foreign on my tongue.

There was a long silence. "Oh, Liv. Are you sure?"

"I just took a test. Two lines. Positive."

"Okay. Okay, breathe. When did you...?"

"Three weeks ago. After the family dinner. We... it was a mistake. A one-time thing. And now..."

"Have you told him?"

"No. I don't know how. I don't know what he'll do."

"Liv, you have to tell him. This is his baby too. He has a right to know."

"I know. I just..." I trailed off, my throat tight. "I'm scared, Sarah. I'm scared of what he'll say. What he'll do."

"Then I'll come with you. I'll be there when you tell him."

"No. I have to do this alone." I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "I have to tell him. Today."

After I hung up, I sat on the bathroom floor for a long time, staring at the test, trying to process what this meant. A baby. A child. A life growing inside me.

Part of me was terrified. Part of me was... something else. Something that felt like hope. Like maybe this could change things. Maybe this could make him see me differently.

But the rational part of me knew better. Knew that this would probably make everything worse. That he'd see it as a complication. A problem to be solved.

I waited until evening, until I heard him come home. I heard his footsteps on the stairs, heard his door close. And then I forced myself to get up, to walk down the hall, to knock on his door.

"Marcus?" My voice was shaky.

"What?" His voice was sharp, tired. "I'm busy, Olivia."

"I need to talk to you. It's important."

There was a long pause. Then the door opened, and he was there, still in his suit, his tie loosened, his hair messy. He looked exhausted.

"What is it?" he asked, his eyes guarded.

"I..." I took a deep breath. "I'm pregnant."

The words hung in the air, heavy and final. I watched his expression change—from tired to shocked to... something else. Something that looked like anger.

"What?" His voice was low, dangerous.

"I'm pregnant. I took a test. It's positive."

"How?" The word was sharp, accusatory.

"You know how," I said, my voice small. "That night. After the family dinner."

"That was one time. One mistake." He moved closer, and I saw the anger in his eyes. "We used protection."

"Apparently not well enough." I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling exposed. Vulnerable. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen."

"Didn't you?" His voice was cold, and I flinched. "Because this is awfully convenient, isn't it? A baby. A permanent connection. A way to stay in my life even after the contract ends."

The words hit like a slap. "You think I did this on purpose?"

"I think you're desperate. I think you're trying to trap me."

"I'm not trying to trap you," I said, my voice rising. "This was an accident. A mistake. I didn't want this any more than you did."

"Then get rid of it." The words were brutal, cold. "Get an abortion. This is a complication we don't need."

I stared at him, my heart breaking. "You want me to...?"

"This is a business arrangement, Olivia. A contract. A baby wasn't part of the deal. So get rid of it. I'll pay for it. I'll pay for whatever you need. Just make it go away."

Tears filled my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. "You're asking me to kill our baby."

"It's not a baby. It's a problem. A complication. And I don't want it."

The words cut deep, and I backed away, my hands shaking. "You're a monster."

"Maybe I am." His expression was hard, closed off. "But I'm a monster who's being honest with you. This marriage is fake. This relationship is fake. And a baby won't change that. It'll just make everything more complicated."

"I can't," I whispered. "I can't do that. I won't."

"Then you're on your own." He turned away, dismissing me. "Figure it out yourself. But don't expect me to be involved. Don't expect me to care."

I left his room, my legs shaking, my heart breaking. I made it to my own room before I collapsed, sobbing into my hands.

He didn't want the baby. He didn't want me. He wanted me to get rid of it, to pretend it never happened.

But I couldn't. I wouldn't.

Because despite everything, despite the contract and the lies and the way he'd just treated me, I wanted this baby. I wanted to keep it. To raise it. To love it.

Even if I had to do it alone.

Even if it meant losing everything.