The Orchestrated Lie

Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

“Pack your things.”

Stefan’s voice was calm, but it held the weight of an unyielding command. He stood in the doorway of my bedroom, his dark eyes locked on mine. Gone was the patience I’d seen before. This was Stefan in his true form—unrelenting, decisive, and unapologetically dominant.

I blinked, clutching the edge of the bed. "Excuse me?"

"You’re moving in with me tonight," he said, stepping further into the room. His tone left no room for argument.

"Stefan," I said, forcing calm into my voice. "I don’t think—"

"I didn’t ask what you thought," he interrupted, his gaze narrowing. "This back-and-forth with Adrian ends now. You’ve entertained his theatrics long enough. I won’t stand by while he poisons your life further."

I crossed my arms, standing my ground despite the magnetic force of his presence. "You don’t get to decide what I do."

His lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. "Oh, but I do. You’re carrying my child, Shania. Your safety isn’t negotiable. And while we’re at it, I refuse to let you stay in a house where that pathetic excuse for a man can barge in whenever he feels like it."

The mention of Adrian made my stomach churn. Stefan wasn’t wrong. Adrian had been a thorn in my side, but Stefan’s domineering approach wasn’t sitting well with me either.

"I’m not a pawn, Stefan," I said sharply. "You can’t just pick me up and move me around like I’m a piece on your chessboard."

He exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose before meeting my eyes again. "Shania, this isn’t about control. It’s about keeping you and the baby safe. If that means being a bit heavy-handed, so be it."

His words hit a nerve, but deep down, I couldn’t ignore the logic in them. Adrian had shown up uninvited, spewing accusations and empty threats. And while I hated to admit it, the thought of moving away from his reach offered a sliver of relief.

"And what happens when I move in?" I asked, folding my arms tighter.

His expression softened—just a fraction. "You’ll have security. Privacy. Peace of mind. My staff will ensure you’re comfortable, and I’ll make sure you have everything you need."

I raised an eyebrow. "You mean I’ll be under your watchful eye twenty-four-seven."

"If that’s what it takes to protect you," he said without hesitation.

I let out a humorless laugh, shaking my head. "You really are something else."

Stefan took another step forward, closing the distance between us. He reached out, his fingers grazing my cheek, and I froze under the intensity of his gaze.

"You don’t have to like me, Shania," he said, his voice low. "But you do need me. And deep down, you know that."

His words were infuriatingly true. As much as I hated the idea of depending on him, I couldn’t deny the safety he offered. Adrian wasn’t going to stop, and I didn’t have the strength to keep fighting this battle alone.

"Fine," I said finally, my voice laced with defiance. "But don’t think for a second that I’m doing this for you. I’m doing it for the baby."

A flicker of satisfaction crossed his face, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

"Good," he said simply. "My driver will be here in an hour."

He turned to leave, but I stopped him with a question that had been burning in the back of my mind.

"Stefan," I called, and he paused, glancing over his shoulder.

"Why me?" I asked. "Why go through all this trouble for someone like me?"

His expression shifted, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer.

"Because you’re mine," he said finally, his voice a blend of conviction and something darker.

Then he walked out, leaving me alone with the echo of his words.

An hour later, I found myself in Stefan’s penthouse, standing in the middle of a sprawling living room that felt more like an art gallery than a home. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the city skyline, and every piece of furniture looked like it had been plucked straight from a designer catalog.

"Welcome home," Stefan said, his voice breaking through my thoughts.

I turned to face him, my stomach twisting with a mix of unease and awe. "This isn’t home. It’s a fortress."

He smirked, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he stepped closer. "A fortress is exactly what you need right now."

Before I could respond, a woman in her late fifties appeared, her polished demeanor instantly calming.

"Mrs. Finch," Stefan said, gesturing toward me. "This is Shania. She’ll be staying here indefinitely. Make sure she has everything she needs."

Mrs. Finch nodded, her kind eyes meeting mine. "Of course, Mr. Vasiliev. Miss Shania, it’s a pleasure to meet you. If there’s anything I can do to make you more comfortable, please don’t hesitate to let me know."

"Thank you," I said, managing a small smile.

Stefan turned to me, his gaze serious. "I have a few calls to take, but I’ll be back shortly. Mrs. Finch will show you to your room."

He didn’t wait for my response, disappearing down a hallway lined with abstract paintings.

"Right this way, Miss Shania," Mrs. Finch said, leading me toward a staircase.

As I followed her, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had just stepped into a gilded cage. The penthouse was beautiful, but it felt sterile, devoid of warmth. This wasn’t a home—it was Stefan’s kingdom, and I was just another piece of his carefully curated life.

Later that evening, Stefan returned, his sleeves rolled up and his tie loosened. He looked every bit the powerful billionaire he was, but there was something different in his demeanor—something restless.

"How’s the room?" he asked, leaning against the kitchen island where I sat with a cup of tea.

"It’s fine," I said, not meeting his gaze.

He studied me for a moment, then straightened. "Tomorrow, we’ll talk about next steps. For now, get some rest."

"Next steps?" I echoed, my brows furrowing.

"Prenatal care, security measures, and arrangements for the baby," he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

I set my cup down, frustration bubbling to the surface. "You make it sound like a business deal."

"Isn’t it?" he asked, his tone sharp.

I stared at him, caught off guard by the coldness in his voice.

"You agreed to this arrangement," he continued, his gaze unwavering. "I’ll provide for you and the baby, but don’t mistake my generosity for sentimentality. This is about ensuring what’s mine stays protected."

His words hit me like a slap, and I felt my chest tighten.

"Goodnight, Stefan," I said, standing abruptly and heading toward the staircase.

"Shania," he called after me, his voice softer now.

I stopped but didn’t turn around.

"I may be a bastard, but I’m not your enemy," he said quietly.

I didn’t respond, my footsteps echoing as I climbed the stairs.

As I reached my room and closed the door behind me, I leaned against it, my mind swirling with emotions I couldn’t name.

Stefan was right—he wasn’t my enemy. But he wasn’t my savior, either. He was something in between, and that terrified me more than anything.