Chapter 11
661 Words
Three weeks had passed since the announcement, and the Kingston mansion had transformed from a spacious estate into a claustrophobic pressure cooker.
The pregnancy had progressed quickly into its second month, and with it, the reality of the situation settled over the household like a heavy fog. Nursery designers were already visiting the east wing, measuring rooms and bringing in swatches of soft pastel fabrics. My mother spent her afternoons glowing, reading baby books in the sunroom, while Richard looked like a man who had won the lottery.
…and then, there was Ethan and me.
We had reverted to "Rule Number One" with a terrifying, absolute rigidity. In the office of Kingston Holdings, he was my demanding, cold boss. He gave me piles of financial reports with barely a glance, his voice clipped and professional. At home, he was a ghost. He ate dinner with us, spoke politely to my mother about her prenatal appointments, and then disappeared into his study in the east wing.
…but the tension didn't die. It only mutated, growing thicker and more volatile with every passing day.
"Aurora, could you pass the salt, please?"
My mother's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. We were sitting at the massive, formal mahogany dining table. It was Friday night, the three-week anniversary of the night in the library.
"Of course," I said, reaching for the silver shaker.
As I reached across the table, my fingers brushed against Ethan’s glass of water. It was a tiny, inconsequential movement, but Ethan’s hand instantly withdrew, his knuckles whitening as he gripped his fork. He didn't look at me, but the sudden, rigid stillness of his body spoke volumes.
"Richard and I were thinking about names today," my mother continued, oblivious to the silent war raging across the table. She smiled warmly, her hand resting on her slightly rounded stomach. "If it's a boy, we were thinking of Alexander, and if it's a girl, maybe Sophia."
"Alexander Kingston," Richard murmured, nodding in approval. "It has a strong ring to it. What do you think, Ethan? As the eldest, you'll be showing him the ropes of the company one day."
Ethan set his fork down with a quiet, precise click against the porcelain plate.
"I think it's a bit early to be planning his corporate career, Father," Ethan said, his voice smooth but laced with a subtle, icy edge. "Let's make sure he survives the nursery first."
"Ethan," Richard warned, his brow furrowing slightly at his son's tone.
"I'm just being practical," Ethan replied, finally raising his eyes, but he didn't look at his father. His slate-grey gaze snapped directly to me, locking onto my eyes with a sudden, searing intensity that made my breath catch in my throat. It was the first time he had looked at me directly in days, and the sheer volume of unspoken anger, desire, and despair in his eyes was staggering.
Look at what they are building, his eyes seemed to say. Look at the family we are supposed to pretend we belong to.
"I think Alexander is a beautiful name," I stammered, quickly looking down at my plate, my heart hammering against my ribs. "And Sophia is lovely too."
"Thank you, sweetie," my mother smiled, reaching over to squeeze my hand. "It's just so wonderful to have everyone here. A real family."
The word family felt like a physical weight pressing down on my chest. I excused myself as soon as dinner was over, practically running up the stairs to my room.
I couldn't handle the hypocrisy of it anymore. I couldn't handle sitting across from the man who had touched me in the dark, knowing that our parents were downstairs talking about a baby that would make us official, biological siblings in the eyes of the law.
I closed my bedroom door, leaning my back against it, and let out a long, shaky breath.
Then, a soft, deliberate knock rattled the wood behind my head.
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