THE TYRANT'S CONTRACT WIFE

Chapter 5: The Hidden Evidence

The sound of Killian’s voice slicing through the heavy oak door made Elena’s heart leap directly into her throat.

Panic, cold and sharp, flooded her veins. Her eyes darted frantically around the pristine, minimalist bathroom. There were no trash cans with liners, no deep cupboards, nowhere safe to throw away a digital plastic stick that practically shouted her doom in bright liquid crystal text.

"Elena!" Killian’s voice dropped, growing heavier and more authoritative. The doorknob rattled violently. "I know you are in there. I do not like to be kept waiting."

"I-I'll be right out!" she cried out, her voice cracking slightly.

Wiping a stray tear from her cheek with the back of her trembling hand, she snatched the positive test off the marble counter. Thinking fast, she wrapped it in a layer of thick toilet tissue, opened the hidden zipper pocket on the inside lining of her heavy winter trench coat hanging behind the bathroom door, and shoved it deep inside. She smoothed the coat down, ensuring nothing looked bulky, and took a deep, shuddering breath to steady her racing pulse.

She turned the lock and opened the door.

Killian was standing right outside the threshold. He had already changed out of his corporate attire and into a tailored, charcoal-grey three-piece suit that made him look impossibly broad and imposing. His hair was perfectly styled, but his storm-grey eyes were narrowed in sharp annoyance.

The moment the door opened, his gaze swept over her. He tracked the slight redness around her doe-like eyes, the pale tint of her cheeks, and the way her fingers tightly gripped the fabric of her emerald-green dress.

"Why are you shaking?" Killian asked, stepping into her personal space. His shadow fell completely over her, cutting off the light from the bedroom. "Marcus told me you insisted on going out to a pharmacy alone today. If you are falling ill, you need to tell me now. My grandfather cannot see you looking like a ghost."

Elena swallowed hard, forcing herself to look up into his metallic eyes. The scent of his cedarwood cologne swirled around her, making her stomach do a small, nervous flip. "I am fine, Mr. Sterling. Just... a little overwhelmed. It is not every day a person gets forced into a high-society marriage under false pretences."

Killian’s lips thinned into a cold, dangerous line. He reached out, his long fingers gently but firmly gripping her chin, tilting her face upward. His touch was warm, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine. "Remember what we discussed, Elena. The moment we step outside these doors, you are not a victim. You are Chloe Vance. You are a woman madly in love with her husband. If my grandfather senses even a flicker of fear or resentment from you, the deal is off."

"I know the rules," she whispered, her breath fanning against his thumb. Her stomach chose that exact, tense moment to twist with a sudden wave of morning sickness. She pulled away from his grip slightly too quickly, pressing a hand against her abdomen.

Killian watched her closely, his eyes dropping to her covered stomach for a fraction of a second before returning to her face. He seemed to attribute her behavior to sheer nerves.

"Good," Killian said, stepping back and offering his arm to her in a formal, stiff gesture. "The limousine is waiting downstairs. Let us go and play our parts."

Elena looked at his broad arm, knowing that touching him meant stepping into the lion's den. But thinking of her mother safely resting in the private Sterling medical wing, she lifted her chin, masked her terror with a fragile smile, and slid her small hand through his arm.