Her Silver Contract.

CHAPTER 6: THE DEMAND

The word pregnant hung in the high-ceilinged room like toxic vapor, cold, thick, and suffocating.

Lyra went instantly, terrifyingly still. The sudden, instinctive urge to pull back swept through her like an icy wave, her CEO defenses slamming into place like solid steel doors. But Rowan’s arm around her waist did not give an inch. His broad fingers tightened possessively into the silk of his dress shirt where it covered her hip, anchoring her flush against his side, refusing to allow a single millimeter of distance between them.

Rowan’s dark brown eyes did not show a trace of panic, shock, or guilt. They turned into absolute, pitch-black ice.

"One month," Rowan repeated. His voice was flat, dangerously smooth, and dripping with an absolute, crushing disdain as he stared down the length of the marble foyer at Isabelle trembling near the elevator doors.

"You stand in my home, in front of my wife, claiming you are carrying my child from four weeks ago."

Isabelle clutched the white medical papers against her rain-soaked coat, her pale face slick with tears, her lower lip quivering as she took a small, fragile step forward.

"It happened the night of your private gallery showcase in the city, Rowan! You know it did! You had been drinking with your mother at the estate, you weren't thinking straight—"

"I don't drink when I work, Isabelle," Rowan interrupted, his low, rough tone cutting through her trembling words like a razor through paper.

"And I haven't set foot in my mother's estate, nor have I been alone in a room with you, in over eight months."

Isabelle flinched as if he had physically struck her across the face. "The clinic report is certified! Your mother personally escorted me to the Croft private wing at St. Jude’s medical center! The bloodwork is stamped by the head of the department!"

"

My mother owns thirty percent of St. Jude's private wing," Rowan said smoothly, taking a slow, heavy step forward, dragging Lyra along with him in an unbreakable, physical lock. He looked down at Isabelle with an oppressive, dark authority that made her shrink back against the chrome frame of the elevator wall.

"You have five seconds to turn around and walk out of my penthouse," Rowan murmured, his voice dropping into a quiet, lethal register. "Before I have my private security team drag you to a neutral federal facility, pull your blood under sworn oversight, and have you processed for felony extortion."

Isabelle’s chest heaved, her lips trembling violently as she realized her quiet, heartbreaking performance was failing to produce a single crack in Rowan's armor. Her eyes flicked nervously toward the ceiling security cameras, her delicate facade cracking beneath his absolute lack of hesitation.

"This isn't a lie, Rowan!" Isabelle choked out, her voice rising in desperation as she backed into the elevator cabin and frantically pressed the door-close button. "The press already has the medical filing! Isolde has already alerted the executive board! They will destroy her by sunset!"

The heavy chrome doors slid shut, cutting off her frantic voice in an instant.

A heavy, suffocating silence descended over the sprawling penthouse.

The moment the elevator indicator light began its descent, Lyra placed her hands flat against Rowan’s broad chest, pushing against his solid frame with every ounce of strength she had left.

"Let go of me, Rowan."

Rowan didn't budge an inch. His chest remained an unyielding wall against her palms. Instead of releasing her, his hands shifted from her waist, sliding up her neck to cup her jawline with fierce, possessive warmth, forcing her pale blue eyes to lock onto his stormy gaze.

"Look at me, Ly," Rowan growled low, his warm breath brushing hot against her cold skin. "Look at me and tell me you believe a single word that came out of her mouth."

"It doesn't matter what I believe!" Lyra snapped, her voice cracking slightly under the immense, crushing weight pressing against her ribs.

"Do you have any idea what just happened? The press is broadcasting a doctored financial leak framing me for forty million dollars in corporate fraud! And now, within the same hour, they have a story that your ex-partner is carrying your child from a month ago!"

She tried to turn her head away, but Rowan’s thumbs pressed firmly against her jawline, keeping her anchored completely to him.

"The board will use this scandal to freeze Shaw Global’s voting shares by noon," Lyra continued, her pale eyes burning with cold anger and rising panic. "Your brother and mother have built a perfect trap, Rowan! They will strip my executive rights, invalidate our civil marriage, and force you into a public custody battle before I can even step foot into my own headquarters!"

"Let them try," Rowan whispered softly, his dark eyes burning with an unholy, possessive fire. "I told you last night, and I will say it to you every morning for the rest of your life: as long as you wear my ring, nobody touches you. Nobody takes what is mine."

"Rowan, be logical—"

"I am putting a federal gag order on St. Jude's clinic within the hour," Rowan cut in, his low voice echoing with an absolute, terrifying authority. "I am launching an immediate, independent paternity audit under third-party security, and I am liquidating my private holdings to buy every floating voting share in Shaw Global before the stock market opens."

Lyra stared at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she fought the terrifying, seductive urge to collapse into his strength, to stop fighting the world alone for just five minutes.

"Why, Rowan?" Lyra whispered, her voice barely carrying across the vast room as her fingers involuntarily clutched the fabric of his dark t-shirt. "Why tear down your own life, your own name, and your family's fortune for a three-year paper contract?"

Rowan’s eyes darkened to absolute obsidian. He lowered his face until his lips brushed against the shell of her ear, his deep voice vibrating straight through her spine, thick with a raw, dangerous devotion that made her breath catch in her throat.

"Because it was never just a contract to me, Ly. And it is time you stop pretending it was."