The room was silent, filled only with the scratch of Thomas’s pen on parchment as he sat in his study, immersed in reports from the Eastern borders. His brows were furrowed in concentration until—Bang!
The door burst open. A maid stumbled in, breath ragged.
“I—I’m sorry, My Lord!” She cried, dropping to her knees. “It’s Lady Lyla… Her water has broken. She’s in labor.”
Thomas shot up, the chair screeching behind him. His blood turned cold.
Without a word, Thomas stormed out of the study. Servants quickly stepped aside, bowing as he passed, his pace unrelenting.
He entered his chamber to the sound of agonized cries.
Lyla lay on the bed, her face drenched with sweat, lips trembling as she writhed in pain. Her hair was stuck to her forehead, her hands gripping the sheets in a white-knu
