Heir of Ashes

Chapter 7: What he wanted

FLASHBACK

ADENA POV

(about a week after Leah showed up)

I’m still sore.

The kind of sore that feels baked into bone-bruises ghosting along my ribs, my hip, the tender ache in my throat from where he had grabbed me last week. I hide it the way I hide everything—quietly, methodically.

I sit at my vanity, dabbing concealer beneath my jaw. The kids mustn’t see. Leah, especially-she’s still so fragile, still looking for a place to belong after Dominiq brought her home and informed me, as though announcing a rearranged dinner menu,

“She’s yours now. Raise her.”

My sister’s child. My burden. My duty.

Dropped into my lap while my bruises were still fresh.

I blend another layer, but the yellowing outline refuses to disappear. The mirror catches the tremor in my fingers.

Stop shaking.

He’ll notice.

A sharp slam jolts the air.

My heart leaps into my throat.

His footsteps-fast, purposeful-carve their way down the hall like a countdown. I’m already thinking of excuses, reasons, and apologies that might soften him before he even enters.

The door bursts open.

Dominiq fills the doorway like a storm-shoulder stiff, jaw locked, eyes already searching, already deciding how angry he wants to be.

And my whole body goes cold.

“Adena.” His voice is too smooth. That’s always the worst sign. “I feel neglected.” The words hit harder than any slap. My stomach folds in on itself as I rise from my chair.

“I-I’m sorry,” I breathe immediately. My instinct takes over, that old, humiliating reflex: Apologise before he can define the crime. “I didn’t mean- I wasn’t trying to-”

“You haven’t been paying attention to me.” He steps closer. The room seems to shrink around him. “You know how I feel about being ignored.”

My shaking gets worse. “I’m not ignoring you. I’ve been with the kids and I-please, Dominiq… you know I never want to upset you.” He had almost killed me a week ago. I would be dumb to anger him now.

He stops just in front of me. His presence is suffocating.

“Do I?” he murmurs.

I swallow hard. “Yes. Of course. I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt me. I’m still… sore.” The word escapes in a whisper. His eyes drag slowly over my body, noting the way I shift my weight to protect my bruised side. And then he sits on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, watching me like I’m a puzzle he’s already solved but enjoys taking apart anyway.

“I don’t like hurting you. You’re just so disobedient. If you could just behave.” My mouth goes dry as I watch him. He always says that.

“I will behave. I’ll do anything.” I say, meaning every word.

“Then give me what I want.” My pulse spikes painfully. He wants attention, but my body is so hurt. How am I going to do it while in so much pain?

I force a slow inhale. “Do you… mean s*x?”

He smirks. “Yes. But not just that.”

My skin goes cold.

My breath stops.

I know that look.

I know what comes next before he even says it.

“Then… what do you want?” My voice shakes. He leans back, spreading his arms along the bed frame like a king on a throne.

“A baby.”A shock shoots through me so violently that my knees almost buckle.

“No…” My voice cracks. “Dominiq, we talked about this. You get angry when I spend too much time with Meira and now with Leah- I can’t- I can’t handle-”

“You can.” His voice hardens. His eyes darken.

“You will.” I look at the bruises hidden beneath silk. I remember the last time I refused. The explosion of his rage. The punishment stretched over days. The way he blamed Meira for my distraction. The way he blamed me for everything.

“You’re not hearing me,” I whisper. “I-I’m scared. My body is-”

“A baby, Adena.” He stands. “My baby. Another heir. You owe me that.” My throat tightens painfully. “Please… I’m still healing. Please, just give me some time.”

“I don’t want time.” His eyes sharpen, obsessive and bright. “I want you pregnant, now.” My mind fractures around the words. There is no right answer. He gets off the bed and steps closer, his hand closes around my jaw, forcing me to look at him.

“You know what happens when you choose wrong,” he whispers.

And I break.

My voice comes out defeated. Small.

“Okay.”

He waits.

I repeat it louder. “Okay. I’ll give you what you want.”

His smile is slow and victorious.

Two years later - My Birthday

The chandelier lights blur around me. Music pulses softly from the ballroom, laughter floating up the marble stairs. Everything looks perfect. Elegant. Regal.

I feel like I’m dying.

Twins.

The doctor had said the word with excitement.

Dominiq had taken it as proof of his superiority.

Now the pregnancy drains. I’m dizzy, nauseous, my heart racing. The weight of two lives makes my breath shallow.

I smile.

I glide.

I play the part.

I had to take a break.

My body couldn’t keep up with the demands of a ball. I felt some energy coming back to me. Until Dominiq storms into the private sitting room we’re alone in.

He’s furious. I saw it building across the ballroom as I tried to greet guests while swallowing nausea. He stalked toward me; he had that glint in his eyes again.

Now he slams the door shut.

“You didn’t seem loving enough,” he spits.

My stomach twists. “I- I’m feeling sick-”

“You always have an excuse.”

“I’m pregnant,” I plead. “It’s twins- the doctor said I need to rest-” He shoves me for talking back. It isn’t hard enough to knock me down, but my balance is terrible, and the room spins violently. Pain flares across my ribs.

“Dominiq, stop- please- I’m trying-”

“You embarrassed me.” Another shove, harder. I stumble, catching myself on the edge of the couch, crying out at the sudden pull in my abdomen. Fear spikes through me, sharp as lightning. Not the babies, please. He leans over me, breath hot with rage. “You think carrying my children gives you the right to disrespect me?”

“I didn’t- I swear I didn’t- please don’t-”

He shoves me one final time, and I collapse onto the couch, breath knocked from my lungs. The pain radiates deep, a terrifying ache low in my stomach.

Before my vision cleared, the door slams open.

“ARE YOU INSANE?!” Enrique’s voice roars through the room.

Dominiq stiffens.

I blink up through tears as my brother-in-law, my twin sister’s husband, steps between us like a shield.

“She’s pregnant,” Enrique snarls, “and you’re pushing her around like she’s a damn rag doll. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Dominiq’s jaw tics. “Stay out of this.”

“I won’t.” Enrique’s voice is lethal. “If you keep this up, you won’t have a family left to boast about.” My breath shudders. Dominiq’s pride curdles into something ugly and silent. Enrique steps closer, eyes narrowed. “I’ll be watching you, brother.”

Dominiq goes still

But if he refuses Enrique, right here, right now, people will talk. Eyes will turn. Suspicion will grow.

So he forces a smile, thin and poisonous. “Of course. Family looks out for each other.”

Enrique turns to me and says, gently but firmly, “Meira knows she can call me. Any time. For any reason.”

The message is clear.

For me.

For Dominiq.

He leaves, slamming the door behind him.

Dominiq stands frozen for a moment, calculating, seething. Then storms out without a word, needing distance to calm down before returning to our guests, before someone witnesses the explosion simmering in his bones.

The moment he’s gone, my entire body collapses.

I sink into the couch, clutching my abdomen, shaking uncontrollably as tears spill down my cheeks. The twins kick faintly. Reminding me I survived tonight. But each breath feels borrowed. Each heartbeat feels stolen. Each moment feels like the edge of something worse. And I know, with bone-deep certainty.

He is not done with me.

Not even close.