Chapter 4
1039 Words
The hospital room smelled of bleach and lilies someone had left on the windowsill. I lay propped against too many pillows, the ultrasound printout folded into a square small enough to hide in my fist. My pulse thudded in my ears like a war drum.
This is a game, Samantha. They know they got you pregnant. They want to claim you. Make money.
Alpha males. Billionaires. Symbols of wealth and brute power. And I was the crossfire.
The door cracked open. The nurse’s voice floated in, apologetic. “Miss Samantha, the two are coming in now…”
She never finished. Elias shouldered through first, suit jacket open, tie loosened like he’d sprinted from a boardroom. Enzo shoved in right behind him, leather jacket creaking, knuckles scarred and gleaming under fluorescent light. They filled the doorway shoulder to shoulder, two mountains colliding in slow motion.
“Move,” Elias hissed.
“After you, pretty boy,” Enzo snarled, teeth flashing.
They spilled into the room like rival tides, each claiming a side of my bed. Elias on the left, cedar cologne, manicured hands, eyes the color of winter steel. Enzo on the right, gun-oil and smoke, gold chain glinting at his throat, eyes black as wet asphalt.
The air thickened. My skin prickled where their shadows fell. Elias’s presence pressed like a tailored storm, cool, precise, the weight of boardrooms and billions. Enzo’s heat rolled off him in waves, raw, volatile, the promise of violence wrapped in muscle.
I felt them both in my bones, in the ache between my thighs, in the memory of their mouths on my skin. My pulse stuttered; my n*****s tightened beneath the thin gown. I hated my body for remembering.
Elias spoke first, voice velvet over steel. “Samantha. How are you feeling?”
Enzo leaned in, knuckles whitening on the bed rail. “Yeah, doll. Talk to me. Anything hurtin’ you?”
I opened my mouth. Nothing came. My tongue felt thick, useless.
Elias’s gaze flicked to my stomach, then back to my face. “I heard you’ve been job-hunting. TransGlobal turned you down.” His lip curled, disdain for the company, not me. “Come work for me. Arlington Logistics. VP of Contract Strategy. Six figures to start. Penthouse office and a company car.”
Enzo barked a laugh that rattled the IV stand. “VP? She ain’t punchin’ clocks for nobody.” He reached across me, fingers brushing my wrist like he had the right. “You want your own outfit, Sam? I’ll bankroll it. Jones Freight Solutions. You name the price. Warehouses, trucks, ports, whatever you need. No board, no suits. Just you callin’ shots.”
The offers ricocheted like bullets.
Elias: “Private obstetrician. Penthouse nursery. Trust fund for each child, ten million at birth.”
Enzo: “Round-the-clock protection. My guys outside your door. No one touches you or the kids. Ever.”
Elias: “Summerville’s best schools. Ivy League pipelines.”
Enzo: “Vacation homes. Amalfi, Santorini. Name the island, it’s yours.”
I looked right to left, sporadically, heard a lot, couldn't process one. It became an auction. My body the lot, my children the prize. Their voices layered, overlapped, climbed.
“—private jet—”
“—my yacht—”
“—diamonds—”
“—my name on the birth certificate—”
I couldn’t breathe. The room shrank to the size of their egos. I slammed my palms over my ears, squeezed my eyes shut, and screamed.
“SHUT UP, BOTH OF YOU!”
Silence crashed in, thick and stunned.
I peeled my hands away. They stared. Elias’s jaw clenched so tight I saw the muscle jump; Enzo’s nostrils flared like a bull scenting blood. I had slept with these men. I had begged them. I had let them own me that night. And now they stood quiet because I told them to.
Power tasted metallic on my tongue.
One question pulsed behind my eyes: Who owns the babies? One for each? Or one father and one lie?
In the hush, a new voice, my own, slithered through the silence: Play your game, Samantha.
They’re acting like they’ve never f****d, never left a woman pregnant. Make them bleed for it.
Enzo broke first. He leaned over the rail, gold tooth glinting, voice a gravel whisper. “Samantha. Who’s got the biggest c**k?”
Elias’s head snapped toward him. “You’re so stupid, Enzo.”
“SILENCE!” I roared again. My throat burned.
They froze.
I drew a breath that tasted like iron and lilies. Nothing to lose. Everything to win. Since they both decided to compete even at this stage, I'll make them compete forever, enjoying the best of both worlds.
“You both,” I said, slow, deliberate, “out. Now. I’m tired. I need rest. When I’m ready to speak, I’ll call, one at a time.”
Elias opened his mouth, aiming at some protest, some promise. I lifted a finger. He shut it. Wow.
Enzo’s eyes narrowed, calculating. I met them, unflinching. He gave a short nod, almost respectful.
They moved. Elias first, shoulders rigid, footsteps clipped. Enzo lingered, thumb brushing the scar on his knuckle, then followed. The door clicked shut behind them like a vault.
Alone.
I sagged into the pillows. The ultrasound square unfolded in my fist, two tiny storms brewing. My storms.
Tears came sudden and hot, sliding into my hair. I didn’t wipe them away.
“It worked,” I whispered to the ceiling. “I’m valued. First time in my life.” The sobs shook me, but they weren’t weak. They were fuel.
I pictured every face that had ever looked down on me: Matthew sneering at my hips. HR managers eyeing my chest like meat. The line of perfect girls outside Elite Space, waiting for scraps.
I smiled through the tears, fierce and wet.
“Now, everyone who’s ever looked down on me, I’m coming for you.”
The lilies on the sill caught the afternoon light, white petals edged gold. Outside, Summerville’s skyline glittered like a chessboard. Two kings waited in the lobby, pawns scattered at their feet.
I was the queen.
And the game had just begun.
- Writer
