The victory from the day before was a ghost by morning.
Audrey woke up with a familiar, acidic lurch in her stomach. She made it to the bathroom just in time, her body convulsing as she retched into the pristine white porcelain of the toilet.
This was different from the stress-nausea she’d felt before. This was primal. This was the pregnancy, asserting itself with a brutal, physical reality.
She was rinsing her mouth when Cole appeared in the doorway. He was already dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, a vision of corporate success. His face was a mask of deep, theatrical concern.
“Honey? Are you okay? I heard you.”
He was at her side in an instant, one cool hand on her forehead, the other rubbing her back in slow, possessive circles. His touch made her skin crawl.
“I’m fine,” she managed, pulling away to lean against the cold marble of the vanity. “Just… morning sickness, I guess.”
“Oh, baby.” His voice was a low, soothing murmur. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard. First, you disappear all day, scaring me half to death, and now this. You’re not just taking care of yourself anymore, remember?”
He put a hand on her still-flat stomach. The gesture was meant to be tender, but it felt like he was planting a flag. Claiming territory.
She flinched.
His eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second before the concerned mask slipped back into place.
“That’s it,” he declared, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’m making a call. You’re seeing a doctor today.”
“Cole, I can make my own appointments.”
“Nonsense,” he said, already pulling out his phone. “You’re overwhelmed. Let me take care of this. Let me take care of us.”
He used his connections. Of course he did. An hour later, she was sitting in the plush waiting room of one of the city’s top obstetricians.
Cole sat beside her, his thigh pressed against hers, holding her hand in a grip that was just a little too tight. He’d insisted on coming, clearing his entire morning schedule to be the doting partner.
He was performing.
She could see it so clearly now. He smiled at the receptionist. He made a charming joke to another waiting couple. He was playing the part of the proud, excited father-to-be.
And she was his unwilling co-star.
“Dr. Evans will see you now, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson.”
Cole beamed at the nurse’s mistake. “It’s Wells, for now,” he said with a wink. “But we’re working on it.”
Audrey’s stomach churned again.
The examination room was sterile and impersonal. Cole did most of the talking, fielding the doctor’s questions with an easy confidence.
“Yes, we’ve been trying for a little while,” he lied smoothly. “So we were absolutely thrilled when we found out. We’re planners, you see. We want to give this baby the absolute best start in life.”
He used the word “we” like a weapon. Every time he said it, he was erasing her, drawing the circle of their supposed life tighter around her.
Dr. Evans, a kind-faced woman in her fifties, turned to Audrey. “And how have you been feeling, aside from the morning sickness?”
Before Audrey could answer, Cole jumped in. “She’s been under a lot of stress at work. Her job is very demanding. I’ve been telling her she needs to cut back, to let me handle things for a while.”
His words were poison wrapped in concern. He was painting a picture for the doctor: Audrey, the fragile, stressed woman who needed a strong man to manage her life.
The doctor gave Audrey a searching look. “Audrey? Last menstrual period?”
Audrey’s mind went blank for a second. The dates were a blur of stress and anxiety. The night she and Cole fought, the night she’d fled to the waterfront and met…
She pushed the thought away.
“Um, about seven weeks ago, I think,” she mumbled, giving a date.
The doctor made a note. “Okay. Based on that, you’d be about six weeks along. That’s perfectly consistent with the nausea.”
Six weeks.
The number echoed in Audrey’s mind.
She did the math, a frantic, silent calculation. Six weeks ago. That was right after that awful fight with Cole.
The night she’d ended up at The Crow’s Nest, drinking too much whiskey.
The night a stranger with stormy eyes had listened to her, really listened, and then walked her back to his small apartment. A hazy, reckless, desperate night she had tried to forget.
A one-night stand with Kian.
Her blood ran cold. The timing… it was tight. It was impossibly, terrifyingly close.
“We’ll do a quick ultrasound, just to confirm the date and make sure everything is where it should be,” Dr. Evans said, her voice pulling Audrey from her spiral.
Cole squeezed her hand. “Our first picture,” he whispered, his voice thick with manufactured emotion.
Audrey lay on the table, a paper-thin sheet across her lap. The room felt airless. Cole stood beside her, his hand on her shoulder, his eyes glued to the monitor. The doctor spread cold gel on her stomach.
A grey, swirling image appeared on the screen.
“And there it is,” Dr. Evans said softly. “See that little flicker? That’s the heartbeat. Strong and steady.”
It was just a tiny pulse of light in a sea of grey. A speck. But it was real. It was alive. A wave of emotion so powerful it stole her breath washed over her. It was pure, instinctual, and had nothing to do with the man standing beside her.
Cole let out a choked sound. “Incredible,” he breathed. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Look, Audrey. That’s our baby.”
His words shattered the moment. The protective, fierce feeling curdled into dread.
The doctor printed a small, grainy photo and handed it to her. The tiny speck was circled.
In the car on the way back to the condo, Cole was euphoric. He held the ultrasound picture like a trophy.
“I’m going to have this framed for my desk,” he said, his voice buzzing with triumph. “Right next to the photo of us from the Hamptons. My family.”
Audrey stared out the window, her own hands clenched in her lap. She felt like she was watching a movie of someone else’s life.
As they rode the elevator up to their condo, Cole was still talking. “I was speaking with one of my partners this morning, a guy on the museum’s benefit committee. He mentioned some talk about a major donor getting cold feet. Beatrice Sterling, I think her name was.”
Audrey froze. The name was vaguely familiar. A titan of industry.
“He said she was concerned about the museum’s ‘direction,’” Cole continued, watching her reaction in the polished elevator doors. “You need to be careful, Audrey. This exhibit is your whole career. One phone call from someone like that could ruin everything. It’s a good thing you have me to protect our interests.”
The doors opened. He was framing it as another problem he had to solve, another way she needed him. First her grant, now her donors. He was building the walls of her prison higher, brick by brick.
Back in the condo, he went straight to the kitchen. “I’m putting this right here,” he announced, placing the ultrasound photo in the very center of the gleaming stainless steel refrigerator, holding it in place with a magnet. “Front and center. A reminder of what’s important.”
He stepped back to admire his work.
Audrey stood in the entryway, her bag still on her shoulder. She looked at the photo. The tiny, flickering life. Her baby.
And then she looked at Cole, beaming at his new trophy. The perfect father-to-be, celebrating a future he was stealing.
Kian’s words from the day before came back to her, clear as a bell. You did this. Not me. Remember that.
He had helped her reclaim her work. He had seen her.
Cole just saw an extension of himself. An heir. A possession.
She looked at the little black-and-white picture of a life, and for the first time, the question wasn’t a hazy whisper.
It was a scream that echoed in the silent cage of her mind.
It’s not yours. Oh God, what if it’s not yours?