The Contracted Wife And Her Secret Twins

The ultrasound monitor glowed softly in the dim room, and Dr. Rachael’s smile was gentle, almost hesitant. “Elena… congratulations. You’re pregnant.” I blinked, my hands gripping the edge of the examination chair so tightly my knuckles whitened. My breath caught in my throat as my gaze drifted to the screen. Two tiny shapes pulsed rhythmically, almost imperceptibly, yet undeniable. “Twins,” she added quietly, as if the word itself carried weight. “You’re expecting twins.” Twins? My mind struggled to process it. I had been so meticulous. Every pill, every precaution, every note in the calendar Damian had insisted I keep—it had all been for a reason. Our marriage wasn’t about love. It was a contract. A cold, precise agreement that clearly stated no pregnancies were allowed. Clause Seven, if I remembered correctly. “I… I’ve been careful,” I murmured, my voice barely audible. My fingers shook against the smooth surface of the table. Dr. Rachael’s brow furrowed. “You’ve been taking the medication consistently?” I hesitated. A flicker of doubt, a moment of distraction—I wasn’t sure. “I… I think so,” I whispered. The words sounded fragile, even to me. She sighed, the kind of sigh that carried both sympathy and caution. “Pregnancies can happen despite precautions. But… don't you want this?” I couldn’t answer. How could I? A wave of panic surged through me, cold and constricting. Two lives were growing inside me. Two small, helpless lives that were Damian’s. The monster of a man I loved so much. I left the clinic on autopilot, my hands tight on the steering wheel, my mind spinning. Every turn of the car, every brake tap, reminded me of the reality I’d been trying to ignore. A contract marriage. A husband who regarded me as little more than a placeholder. I wasn’t supposed to become pregnant. Not now. Not ever. The driveway looked impossibly far. I killed the engine, sitting there in silence, my chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. Damian’s words echoed in my mind, crisp and unemotional. “This is a business arrangement. Don’t confuse it with love or marriage.” He had warned. Three years. Three years I had clung to a facade of being his perfect, quiet wife. Always composed. Always unseen. At the office, I was Elena Hart, executive assistant to the CEO. At home, I was his wife in name only, a living statue to keep appearances tidy for the board. And now, somehow, I was carrying his children. The house was eerily quiet as I walked through the door, every creak of the floorboards amplifying my anxiety. I moved methodically, preparing a simple meal, my hands trembling with tension. Hunger gnawed at me, though, and I forced myself to eat more than I should—strength, if nothing else, would be needed. The shower was brief. Steam fogged the mirror, but my reflection didn’t change. My stomach was still flat, betraying nothing of the life growing within. And yet, in the silence, I could feel them. Two little heartbeats echoing inside me. Would they resemble me? My green eyes, my pale hair? Or would Damian’s stormy, grey gaze dominate their features? My mind wandered, imagining their tiny hands, their first cries. And yet, alongside wonder, fear pressed down, heavy and insistent. By the time I settled on the couch, Damian had still not returned. Minutes blurred into hours, and each tick of the clock intensified the knot of anxiety in my stomach. I imagined every scenario of telling him. How would he react? Disgust? Anger? Indifference? Sleep came slowly, fleeting and uneasy. I woke to the familiar weight of his hands on my skin, a jolt of heat and panic surging through me. The bed felt smaller, tighter, more suffocating with him there. “Damian…” My voice was hesitant, nervous. My body reacted before my mind could. “You missed your meeting today,” he murmured, his breath warm against my neck. His lips brushed mine and his hands moved towards my chest in that familiar, possessive gesture that always left me trembling. “I… I wasn’t feeling well,” I murmured. “Nora and I… we handled things at the office.” His tongue brushed against mine, insistent, seeking. I pushed my face away, shaking my head. “Not… not today,” I whispered. Damian’s grey eyes darkened, and the warmth vanished from his expression. He sat back slightly, robe tightening around his shoulders. “Why?” “My… stomach, it aches.” I said. The lie felt bitter on my tongue, almost acidic. He didn’t respond verbally. Instead, he rose, disappearing into the bathroom, leaving me with the echo of water running and my own uneven heartbeat. I waited, curling my fingers over my abdomen. Protecting. Shielding. My secret was safe for now. But only for now. Then his phone lit up on the nightstand. Curiosity mingled with dread as I saw the name flashing: Sienna Vale. “I miss you darling. See me on Thursday?” A chill ran through me. Sienna. Damian’s past. The one who always lingered at the edges of his mind, the shadow of a love he claimed was over. Yet here she was, demanding attention, making plans as though I didn’t exist, as though our contract and my heart meant nothing. I had known Sienna from the office. She had a charm that Damian fell for, years before I had entered his orbit. He never treated me the same way he did her. Every word, every glance from him toward Sienna carried warmth I had never felt. And now… now he was texting her while I carried his children. The phone rang again. Sienna calling this time. I swallowed hard, a lump rising in my throat. This wasn’t just a reminder of our fractured marriage. It was a threat. A reminder that even in this contract, even in my carefully curated invisibility, I could never truly hold him. And yet, beneath the fear, beneath the shock, a spark of resolve began to grow. These babies… they were mine. They were the one piece of truth in a life built on pretenses and agreements. I clenched my fists, resting them protectively over my stomach. No one would take that away from me. Not Sienna. Not Damian. Not even the contract that had tried to bind my life in shadows. The water stopped running, but the tension did not. Every second ticked by like a drumbeat of warning. Damian’s footsteps approached. I straightened, heart pounding, mind racing. How much did he suspect? Did he know? Would he even care? The bedroom door clicked open. His eyes, sharp and assessing, fell on me. For a moment, I saw nothing but calculation in his gaze. And yet… there was also something else—a flicker of curiosity, of unspoken tension, of recognition. I swallowed, gripping the blanket around me like a lifeline. One thing was certain: nothing in our marriage or my life would ever be the same again. And as his eyes darted toward his phone, and the message from Sienna glimmered on the screen, I realized: the storm had only just begun.