SOLD INTO HIS ARMS

I called Victor seven times the morning the doctor confirmed my pregnancy, and seven times my call rang through to voicemail. The clinic was still quiet when I stepped outside, holding the test results against my chest like a treasure. Three years of marriage and three years of trying, and finally my body had answered. I could not stop smiling as I dialed his number again, pressing the phone to my ear while the London wind pulled at my coat. Voicemail. Again. I texted him: "Please call me. I have something important to tell you." The message showed as read within seconds, but no reply came. Something uneasy moved through me, but I pushed it aside. Victor was a busy man. He ran one of the biggest property firms in London. Some mornings, he could not breathe between meetings. I would go to him. I would walk into his office with this news, and he would stand up from his desk, pull me into his arms, and press his lips to my forehead the way he used to do in our first year together. Back when he still touched me. Back when he still came home before midnight. The train ride to his office took twenty minutes. I spent it imagining his face when I told him. Would his eyes go soft? Would he lift me off the ground? I had not seen him smile in months, but this news could change everything between us. The lobby of Casmir Properties was all glass and polished stone. I walked toward the reception desk, and Ella, Victor's front-office assistant, looked up from her computer. Her smile faded the moment she recognized me. "Mrs. Casmir," she said. "Do you have an appointment?" She never used to ask me that. "I am here to see my husband." "Mr. Casmir is in a meeting. I am not sure when he will be available." "I will wait." Ella opened her mouth, then closed it. She glanced at the elevator, then back at me. "I will let him know you are here." I sat in the waiting area for forty-five minutes. People walked past me, some glancing, some looking away too quickly. Two women from the marketing floor whispered as they passed. I caught the words "his wife" and "never comes here." At fifty minutes, the elevator doors opened, and laughter spilled out. Victor stepped into the lobby beside Tonia. She wore a fitted black dress and heels that clicked on the stone floor. Her hand rested on Victor's arm, natural and comfortable, as if it belonged there. They moved together like two people who shared everything. Victor saw me. His smile dropped like a stone into water, replaced by something flat and irritated. He removed Tonia's hand from his arm, though not quickly. Not guiltily. Just the way someone sets aside something unimportant because another task needs attending. "Evelyn." His voice held no warmth. "What are you doing here?" I stood, gripping my bag. "I called you seven times." "I was in a meeting." "You read my message." He slid his hands into his pockets. "What is so urgent that it could not wait until tonight?" Tonia stood slightly behind him, watching me with a small smile that made my skin crawl. I did not want to share this moment with her present. "Can we talk in your office? Alone?" Victor glanced at his watch. "I have another meeting in ten minutes." "It will not take long." Something flickered across his face, annoyance maybe, or something colder. But he nodded once and walked toward the elevator. I followed. Tonia did not move, but I could feel her watching until the doors closed. His office was on the top floor. Large windows overlooked the city, and his desk was clean except for a laptop and a glass of water. He did not sit. He stood by the window with his back half turned to me. "Speak," he said. Like I was a meeting on his schedule. "Victor, I went to the doctor this morning. I... we are having a baby." The words hung between us. He did not turn around. He did not move. The silence stretched on for five seconds, ten, fifteen. "Victor. Did you hear me?" He turned. His dark eyes settled on my face, and I searched them for joy, for surprise, for anything at all. I found nothing. "Before you say anything else," he said slowly, "there is something I need to tell you." "What?" He walked to his desk, opened the top drawer, and pulled out a folder. Blue, thin, with a law firm's name stamped on the front. "I had my lawyer draft these last week." He placed the folder on the desk between us. "It is time we discuss our arrangement coming to an end." "Arrangement?" The word tasted strange in my mouth. "What arrangement? Victor, I just told you I am pregnant." "And I just told you that this marriage is reaching its conclusion. The two things are separate." My knees went soft. I gripped the edge of his desk. "What are you talking about? We are married. We are husband and wife. What do you mean by arrangement?" His jaw tightened. He looked at me for a long time, and something in his eyes almost looked like pity. Almost. "Go home, Evelyn. I will come tonight, and we will discuss this properly." "No." My voice shook but I held my ground. "Tell me now. What arrangement? Why are you calling our marriage an arrangement?" "Because that is what it is." He picked up his phone, checked the time, and put it back. "Go home. I will explain everything tonight." "Victor, please. You are scaring me." He said nothing. He walked past me, opened the office door, and held it open. A dismissal. The kind you give to someone who overstayed their welcome. I walked out on legs that barely held me. I did not go home. I went to his study. The room in our house where he spent his evenings behind a locked door. I had a spare key to the house, but his study drawer was locked with a combination. I tried his birthday. His mother's birthday. Our anniversary. The anniversary code worked. The bottom drawer slid open, and there at the back, beneath folders and old receipts, sat a brown envelope. It was heavy and had my name written across the front in black ink. I pulled it out. I opened it. I read the first page. AGREEMENT OF MARITAL ARRANGEMENT. Between Victor Casmir (Party A) and Samuel Williams (Party B). Concerning the marriage of Party A to the daughter of Party B, Miss Evelyn Williams, in complete settlement of all outstanding debts owed by Party B to the Casmir family, totaling fifty million pounds. My father's signature sat at the bottom, right beside Victor's. The date was six months before our wedding. Six months before he walked into my university library and asked if the seat beside me was taken. My legs gave way, and I sank to the floor, the paper trembling in my hands, reading the clause that said I must never know.