Chapter 18
1009 Words
Angelica POV
I sit in the car longer than necessary.
The engine is off. The street outside Alexander’s office is busy, loud, normal—but inside me, everything feels fragile, like one wrong breath could shatter it.
My hand drifts to my stomach without thinking.
Still flat. Still quiet.
And yet… not empty.
The doctor’s words echo in my head.
Very early.
Healthy.
Congratulations.
I laugh softly under my breath, the sound trembling. Of all places. Of all moments.
The cabin.
The snow.
The week where the world went quiet and Alexander stopped being a king and became just a man who held me like I was something precious.
Our lucky charm.
I wasn’t expecting this. Not now. Not after everything we’ve survived. I thought maybe one day—later—when things felt more solid.
But life doesn’t ask permission.
And neither does love.
I step out of the car and head inside, my heart racing harder with every step. I want to tell him. I need to tell him. And yet, the words feel too big, too important to just drop into the air.
I’m pregnant.
Three words that could change everything.
Alexander is in a meeting when I arrive. I don’t interrupt. Instead, I wander through the mansion, my mind racing as fast as my feet.
How do you tell a man like him something like this?
A man who once married for duty.
A man who feared love because it could be taken from him.
A man who is only just learning how to let go of control.
I don’t want him to feel trapped.
I want him to feel chosen.
I end up in the dance studio.
Of course I do.
Music hums softly through the speakers as I move without really thinking, letting my body speak where my mouth can’t yet. I dance slower than usual, careful without meaning to be, every movement suddenly layered with awareness.
When I stop, I’m breathless—not from exertion, but from emotion.
“I’m going to ruin your life,” I whisper to the empty room, smiling through tears. “And make it better at the same time.”
I change and head to the kitchen, determined to act normal. Dinner. Casual conversation. Ease him into it.
Except normal has never really existed for us.
Alexander finds me before I find the courage.
He steps into the kitchen, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, eyes immediately locking onto mine like they always do.
“You’re home early,” he says.
I nod. “Doctor’s appointment.”
His posture shifts instantly—alert, controlled, careful not to panic. “Everything okay?”
“Yes,” I say quickly. Too quickly.
He narrows his eyes. “Angel.”
I sigh, laughing nervously. “I was going to tell you later.”
He’s in front of me in two steps, hands gentle but firm on my arms. “Tell me now.”
My heart slams against my ribs.
I take a deep breath.
“You remember the cabin?” I ask softly.
A hint of a smile touches his mouth. “How could I forget?”
I place his hand over my stomach, guiding it there—not dramatic, not theatrical. Just honest.
“I think it left us something,” I whisper.
It takes a second.
Then his breath stops.
His hand stills completely, like if he moves, the moment will disappear.
“Angelica,” he says slowly. “What are you saying?”
I look up at him, eyes shining. “I’m pregnant.”
The world goes silent.
Not the heavy, dangerous silence I know so well from his world—but something vast and stunned and full.
He doesn’t speak.
He just stares at me, then down at my stomach, then back at my face like he’s afraid this is another dream he’ll wake up from.
I panic.
“Say something,” I blurt. “Please. You’re scaring me.”
His hands slide to my waist, then pull me against him so suddenly I gasp. He buries his face in my neck, breathing hard, like he’s trying to ground himself.
“You’re sure?” he asks hoarsely.
I nod against his shoulder. “Very early. But yes.”
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark and overwhelmed.
“I didn’t trap you,” I say quickly. “I swear. If this is too soon—”
“Stop,” he says sharply.
I freeze.
Then his tone breaks.
“This is the first thing in my life that doesn’t feel like a trap,” he says quietly.
My breath catches.
He drops to his knees in front of me without warning, pressing his forehead to my stomach like it’s something sacred. His hands tremble openly now.
“My child,” he whispers.
Our child, he doesn’t say—but I hear it anyway.
Tears spill down my cheeks as I sink down with him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.
“I was afraid to tell you,” I admit.
He looks up at me, eyes fierce and wet and full of something I’ve never seen before.
“Angelica,” he says, voice steady despite everything shaking inside him, “you could give me nothing else for the rest of my life, and this would still be more than I deserve.”
I laugh through tears. “You’re going to be unbearable.”
He almost smiles.
Almost.
Instead, he presses a kiss to my stomach, reverent.
“The world can burn,” he murmurs. “But nothing touches you. Or this. Ever.”
For the first time since I saw the test turn positive, I let myself believe it.
Not because he’s powerful.
Not because he’s dangerous.
But because he’s standing here, on his knees, choosing this future with me.
And suddenly, the fear fades.
Because this child wasn’t born from obligation.
It was born from a week of snow, silence, and two people who finally chose each other.
Our lucky charm.
- Writer
