The photo burned itself into Elowen’s retinas.
Celeste. Hand on her stomach. That same smug smile stitched onto her lips like a scar she was proud of.
Pregnant.
The word carved itself into Elowen’s chest with cold precision.
She reread the headline until the letters blurred. Then she clicked on the article.
No official confirmation. No quotes. Just anonymous whispers and “close sources” claiming she had checked into a private maternity wing. That she had been seen with security. That Rowan was spotted in Vienna last week.
Elowen clicked out of the browser.
And sat perfectly still.
Her breath moved in and out in a quiet, measured rhythm.
But her bones felt electric.
Not rage.
Not pain.
Something deeper. Heavier.
An ancient kind of betrayal. One that split through the sinew of h
