The Actress No One Could Bury

Vesper woke with a gasp. For one disorienting second, she was back in that hotel room seven months ago—dark walls, a locked door, the bitter taste of something wrong in her drink. A man’s voice close to her ear. A hand catching her before she fell. Then nothing. “Miss Ellery?” Vesper blinked up at the nurse standing beside her. The bright maternity clinic rushed back into focus. White walls. Afternoon sunlight. The low murmur of women waiting for appointments. And the weight of her seven-month pregnancy resting beneath both hands. “You fell asleep,” the nurse said. “Here. You left your report at the desk.” Vesper accepted the folder. The newest ultrasound image had been clipped inside. Her baby’s profile was small but clear. Healthy. Safe. For now, that was enough. “Thank you.” Vesper smiled. “The doctor said everything looks normal?” “Everything looks good. But she wants you back next week. No missed appointments.” “I’ll be here.” The nurse gave her a pointed look. “And try not to walk around alone in this heat.” Vesper nodded, though she was barely listening. Her phone screen showed one unread message. Roman had returned to Bellgrave. After months of delayed calls, bad signals, and conversations that ended the moment she mentioned the baby, he was finally home. They could talk face-to-face. No excuses. No overseas project. No sudden meetings. Vesper slid the ultrasound photograph carefully into the folder. Roman had been shocked when she told him she was pregnant. Anyone would be. They had grown up together, but they had never planned for a child this soon. Still, he had said the right things. He had told her he would take responsibility. He had told her not to be afraid. Maybe he had only needed time. By tonight, they could begin planning the wedding. Vesper left the clinic with one hand beneath her stomach and the other gripping the report. Heat pressed against her the moment the doors opened. She had just raised her arm for a taxi when an engine roared. A red sports car shot toward the curb. Vesper stumbled backward. The car stopped inches from her. Her pulse slammed against her throat. She wrapped both arms around her stomach. The driver’s door opened. Cecilia Ellery stepped out in a fitted red dress and dark sunglasses. She looked Vesper over slowly, lingering on her stomach. “You should be more careful,” Cecilia said. “Pregnant women are so fragile.” “Are you insane?” Vesper demanded. “You could have hit me.” Cecilia closed the car door. “But I didn’t.” She removed her sunglasses and smiled. Vesper had known that smile since the day she entered the Ellery house. It was the smile Cecilia used when their parents were not watching. “What do you want?” “To save you from embarrassing yourself tonight.” Vesper tightened her grip on the medical folder. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Roman.” Hearing his name from Cecilia’s mouth made something cold settle in Vesper’s stomach. “He’s meeting me,” Vesper said. “He is.” Cecilia’s smile widened. “So I suppose you’re planning to show him the ultrasound. Then you’ll ask when he intends to marry you.” “That is none of your business.” “It became my business when you decided to make Roman raise another man’s child.” For a moment, the traffic noise seemed to disappear. Vesper stared at her. “What did you say?” Cecilia leaned against the car as if they were discussing something harmless. “You really still believe Roman was the man in that hotel room?” Vesper’s fingers went numb around the folder. “You’re lying.” “Am I?” “You don’t know anything about that night.” “I know what was in your drink.” The folder slipped half an inch through Vesper’s fingers. Cecilia watched her reaction with open satisfaction. “I know which room you were supposed to enter. I know the two men who were waiting there. And I know you somehow wandered into the wrong suite before they could get to you.” Vesper could hear her own breathing. Slow. Uneven. “You drugged me.” Cecilia shrugged. “You were never supposed to get pregnant.” “You drugged me.” “You were supposed to wake up with enough shame to leave the Ellery family and stay away from Roman.” Vesper took one step forward. Cecilia straightened, but she did not retreat. “You could have killed me.” “You survived.” “I was unconscious.” “You were reckless.” Vesper slapped her. The sound cracked through the air. Cecilia’s face turned sharply to the side. For one second, neither woman moved. Then Cecilia touched her cheek and laughed. “You should save your anger for Roman.” Vesper’s chest tightened. “What does Roman have to do with this?” Cecilia reached into her handbag and took out her phone. She opened an old message thread and held it out. Only part of the conversation was visible. But it was enough. Roman’s name. Cecilia’s apology. And Roman’s response. I know it wasn’t me. She doesn’t need to know that now. Vesper stared at the words until they blurred. “That can be fabricated.” “Ask him.” Cecilia lowered the phone. “He knew before you told him you were pregnant. He knew the man in that room wasn’t him. He knew what I had done.” “No.” “He lied because he thought the truth would destroy you.” “No.” “And because protecting me mattered more.” “Stop.” “You spent seven months believing Roman was the father of your child.” Cecilia’s voice softened with false sympathy. “You built an entire future around a lie.” Vesper lunged and seized her wrist. “Why?” Cecilia’s expression hardened. “Because everything was fine before you came back.” “I am their daughter.” “You were a stranger they brought into my home.” “It was my home too.” “No.” Cecilia pulled against her grip. “It became yours the moment you started taking things that belonged to me.” “Our parents?” “My parents.” “The Ellery name?” “My name.” “Roman?” Cecilia’s eyes flashed. “Especially Roman.” “Vesper!” Roman’s voice came from behind them. Vesper released Cecilia and turned. Roman Westcott was crossing the pavement toward them, his face tense. For one wild moment, relief rose inside her. He was here. He would explain. Cecilia staggered backward and dropped to one knee. “Roman—” He reached her first. His hands closed around Cecilia’s arms as he helped her stand. “Are you hurt?” Vesper went still. Cecilia looked up at him with wet eyes. “I told her the truth. I knew she would hate me, but I couldn’t let her keep believing that child was yours.” Roman’s jaw tightened. Vesper waited. She waited for him to deny it. He didn’t. “Roman,” she said. “Look at me.” He did. That was worse. There was guilt in his face. Not confusion. Not shock. Guilt. “You knew,” she whispered. “Vesper—” “You knew Cecilia drugged me.” Roman looked toward the clinic entrance, as though he feared someone might hear. “Keep your voice down.” Her breath caught. That was his answer. “You knew,” she repeated. “I found out afterward.” “And you told me the man was you.” “You were already devastated.” “So you lied.” “I was trying to protect you.” “From what?” Roman glanced at her stomach. “The truth.” Vesper laughed once. The sound did not feel like it came from her. “You let me believe this was your child.” “I didn’t know you were pregnant then.” “But when I told you, you still said nothing.” “I needed time.” “For what? To decide which one of us deserved the truth?” Cecilia touched Roman’s sleeve. “This is my fault. Don’t blame him.” Vesper looked at the hand on his arm. Roman did not remove it. Something inside her finally understood. Not broke. Understood. “You chose her.” Roman closed his eyes for a moment. “When I left for the overseas project, I thought distance would help me understand what I wanted.” “And?” “And Cecilia was with me.” Vesper looked from him to Cecilia. The months of weak signals. Missed calls. Messages answered hours later. Every conversation Roman had ended when she brought up marriage. “You took her with you.” Roman said nothing. Cecilia leaned closer to him. Vesper felt her baby move. A hard, sudden kick. Her hand flew to her stomach. Roman noticed. His expression shifted, but he did not come closer. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t marry you.” The words landed with terrible calm. Vesper had imagined this conversation so many times. Roman nervous but smiling. Roman touching the ultrasound image. Roman asking if she wanted a small wedding or a large one. Instead, he stood beside the woman who had drugged her and told her he could not marry her. “Is it because the child isn’t yours?” Vesper asked. “No.” “Then why?” “Because I love Cecilia.” Cecilia lowered her eyes. Roman continued, each word measured. “I should have told you sooner. I shouldn’t have let you believe we still had a future. But marrying you now would only create another lie.” Vesper stared at him. “You’re concerned about lies?” “Vesper—” “You knew she drugged me.” “She made a terrible mistake.” “She arranged for two men to assault me.” “She was young. She panicked.” “And I was what?” Roman’s face tightened. “What was I, Roman?” He did not answer. Vesper nodded slowly. She had studied until she collapsed to earn a place at Bellgrave University because she thought Roman would respect her more. She had buried her desire to act because he said the entertainment industry was unstable. She had left the Abbott family—the people who had raised her—and entered the Ellery household because she believed she needed the right name to stand beside him. She had reshaped her entire life around a man who had watched someone destroy her and decided silence was kindness. The ultrasound folder trembled in her hand. “You both knew,” she said. “For seven months.” Roman took a step toward her. “It was complicated.” “No.” “Let me take you home.” “Don’t touch me.” “You’re upset.” “I was drugged, lied to, and abandoned while carrying a stranger’s child. I think I’m entitled to be upset.” People near the clinic had begun to look over. Roman lowered his voice. “We can discuss this somewhere private.” “There is nothing left to discuss.” Vesper turned. Roman reached for her arm, then stopped. Behind him, Cecilia caught his sleeve. “Roman.” One word. A request. A warning. Roman looked back at her. That hesitation lasted only a second. It was enough. Vesper stepped off the curb without seeing the delivery van swing out from behind a stopped bus. A horn screamed. She turned toward the sound. A delivery van filled her vision. Impact threw her sideways. The medical folder flew from her hand. She struck the road hard enough to lose her breath. For a moment, there was no pain. Then it came all at once. Her head. Her back. Her stomach. Vesper curled around her belly, but her arms would not obey. Someone shouted for an ambulance. Roman was beside her now. Too late. Always too late. “Vesper. Stay with me.” She tried to answer. Warm liquid spread beneath her. Cecilia stood several feet away, one hand covering her mouth. The ultrasound photograph lay near Roman’s shoe. A dark red stain crept across the image. Vesper forced her fingers toward her stomach. The baby had stopped moving. Panic tore through the haze. Roman leaned closer. “What are you saying?” Her lips barely moved. “Save my baby.” The sunlight vanished. And then there was nothing.