Maya's POV
The mysterious text about my mother burns in my mind all day.
"Your mother knew the truth. Ask him about the accident."
But I can't ask Ethan. He's been at the hospital with his sister all day. Rebecca, his assistant, takes me shopping at boutiques where a single dress costs more than my monthly rent. She doesn't mention the text. She doesn't know about it.
I buy a red dress for crashing Derek's wedding reception tonight. Red for anger. Red for blood. Red for war.
By the time we return to the penthouse, it's evening. Rebecca leaves me alone with bags of expensive clothes I didn't pay for. Everything feels surreal, like I'm living someone else's life.
My stomach churns. I haven't eaten all day. The thought of food makes me nauseous.
I head to the kitchen and open the refrigerator. Ethan has every kind of food imaginable—fresh fruit, expensive cheeses, fancy containers of things I can't pronounce. I grab an apple and take one bite.
My stomach rebels instantly.
I drop the apple and run to my bathroom. I barely make it before I'm sick. Violently, terribly sick. I grip the toilet, my whole body shaking.
This isn't normal stress. This isn't just emotional turmoil.
When I finally stop, I wash my face with cold water. My reflection stares back at me—pale, sweating, terrified.
No. Please, no.
I've been so focused on Derek's betrayal and my family's theft that I didn't notice the signs. But now they're obvious. I haven't had my period in six weeks. I've been nauseous for days. My body feels different, foreign.
I grab my phone with shaking hands and search for the nearest pharmacy. There's one three blocks away. I throw on a jacket and slip out of the penthouse before I can change my mind.
The pharmacy is bright and sterile. I wander the aisles like a ghost until I find them—pregnancy tests. So many brands. So many promises of accuracy.
I grab three different boxes and pay cash. The cashier barely looks at me. She has no idea she's witnessing my life fall apart.
Back at the penthouse, I lock myself in my bathroom. My hands shake so badly I can barely open the first box.
The instructions are simple. Pee on the stick. Wait three minutes. One line means not pregnant. Two lines means pregnant.
I take the first test. Then the second. Then the third. I line them up on the bathroom counter and set a timer on my phone.
Those three minutes last forever.
I pace the bathroom, my heart pounding. This can't be happening. Not now. Not when I just lost everything. Not when I just made a deal with a stranger for revenge.
What will I do if I'm pregnant? How will I tell Ethan? Will he still help me if I'm carrying Derek's baby?
The timer goes off.
I walk to the counter slowly, like approaching a bomb.
Two lines. Two lines. Two lines.
All three tests are positive.
I'm pregnant with Derek Walsh's baby.
The room spins. I grab the counter to stay upright. My breath comes in short gasps. This is too much. This is more than I can handle.
Derek threw me away yesterday. Today I discover I'm carrying his child.
What kind of cruel joke is the universe playing?
I stare at the positive tests lined up like soldiers delivering bad news. Part of me wants to cry. Part of me wants to scream. Part of me wants to throw the tests away and pretend this isn't happening.
But I can't pretend. The truth is staring me in the face with two pink lines.
I'm going to be a mother. Derek's child is growing inside me right now. A child he'll never know about because he chose Vanessa and business deals over me.
Unless I tell him.
Should I tell him? Does he deserve to know? Would he even care, now that he's married to someone else?
My phone buzzes. A text from Ethan: "I'm back. We need to talk before tonight."
Tonight. The wedding reception. I'm supposed to walk in there on Ethan's arm, confident and powerful, showing Derek I've moved on.
How can I do that when I'm pregnant with his baby?
I gather the pregnancy tests quickly and shove them deep in the bathroom trash. Then I wash my face again, brush my teeth, try to look normal.
There's a knock on my bedroom door. "Maya? Are you in there?"
Ethan's voice. Calm, controlled, but with an edge of concern.
"Just a minute," I call out, my voice cracking.
I look at myself in the mirror one more time. I look terrible—pale, scared, sick. He'll know something is wrong the moment he sees me.
I take a deep breath and open the bathroom door. Then I cross my bedroom and open the main door.
Ethan stands in the hallway, still in his suit from this morning. He looks tired, stressed. His visit to his sister must have been difficult.
But his sharp eyes immediately notice my condition. "You look sick. What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I'm fine."
"You're not fine." He steps into my room without asking permission. "You're pale and shaking. Are you ill? Did something happen while I was gone?"
"I'm just stressed," I lie. "Today was overwhelming. Shopping, thinking about seeing Derek tonight, everything."
Ethan studies my face like he's trying to read my mind. "You're lying."
"I'm not—"
"Maya." His voice is firm but not unkind. "I'm very good at detecting lies. It's how I built my company. And right now, you're lying to me about something important."
I want to tell him. I want to collapse and admit that I'm pregnant and terrified and don't know what to do.
But I can't. Not yet. Not until I figure out what this means for our arrangement.
"I found something out today," I say instead, deflecting. "About my mother."
Ethan's expression changes instantly. His eyes go cold. "What about your mother?"
"Someone sent me a text. They said my mother knew the truth about something. They told me to ask you about the accident."
The silence that follows is deafening.
"What accident?" I press. "What does my mother have to do with you?"
Ethan walks to my window, staring out at the city lights. His shoulders are tense, his hands clenched.
"Your mother died fifteen years ago in a car accident," he finally says. "Is that correct?"
"Yes. I was nine years old. She was driving home from work and her brakes failed. She crashed into a tree."
"Her brakes didn't fail by accident," Ethan says quietly. "They were tampered with. By someone working for James Walsh."
The room tilts. "What?"
"Your mother worked as a secretary at Walsh & Associates law firm. She discovered James was embezzling money from clients. She planned to report him to the police." Ethan turns to face me. "James had her killed before she could testify."
I can't breathe. I can't think. My mother was murdered?
"How do you know this?" I whisper.
"Because my father was investigating the same crimes. He and your mother were planning to expose James together. When she died, my father knew he was next. That's why he became so paranoid. That's why he eventually gave up and killed himself—he knew James would win."
Tears stream down my face. "My mother was murdered because of James Walsh?"
"Yes. And your father knows. Richard knows his wife was murdered. He's known for fifteen years and said nothing."
"No." I shake my head violently. "My father wouldn't—he couldn't—"
"James paid him to stay quiet. That's how Richard afforded to remarry and buy the house you grew up in. Blood money. Payment for silence about murder."
I sink onto my bed, my legs giving out. Everything I thought I knew about my life is a lie. My mother didn't die in an accident. My father isn't weak—he's complicit in murder.
And Ethan knew. He knew all of this when he found me last night.
"You used me," I say, my voice hollow. "You approached me because I'm connected to my mother's murder. You want revenge on James Walsh, and I'm your weapon."
"Yes," Ethan admits. "I approached you because you're connected to my father's case through your mother. But that doesn't change the fact that you deserve justice too."
"Does Derek know?" I ask. "Does he know his father killed my mother?"
"I don't believe so. Derek was seven years old when it happened. But his father definitely knows. James Walsh is a murderer who's walked free for fifteen years."
I think about Derek marrying Vanessa. About my father stealing my money. About Patricia throwing me out. All of them connected to a man who killed my mother and destroyed Ethan's family.
"I want to destroy them all," I say coldly. "Not just Derek. All of them."
"Good." Ethan sits beside me on the bed. "That's exactly what we're going to do. But we need to be smart about it. Strategic."
"How?"
"We start tonight. There's a charity gala at the Grand Hotel. The Walsh family will be there. Derek and Vanessa will announce their marriage officially. We're going to walk in there together and show everyone that you're not broken."
My stomach churns again. The pregnancy. I can't think about the gala when I'm carrying Derek's baby.
"Ethan, I need to tell you something—"
"Wait." He holds up his hand. "Before you say anything else, I need to tell you something important. Derek called me today."
"What? Why would Derek call you?"
"He wanted to warn me about you. He said you're unstable and dangerous. He said I should stay away from you for my own safety."
Rage floods through me, momentarily pushing away my pregnancy panic. "He's trying to poison you against me."
"Obviously. But it means he's scared. He's already regretting marrying Vanessa. And when he sees you with me tonight, looking beautiful and confident, it's going to destroy him."
I think about walking into that gala in my red dress. Seeing Derek with Vanessa. Watching them play the happy newlyweds while I carry his secret child.
Can I do it? Can I face him without breaking down or revealing the truth?
"I don't know if I can do this," I admit. "Seeing him tonight, pretending I'm okay..."
"You don't have to pretend you're okay," Ethan says. "You just have to pretend you're powerful. There's a difference."
He stands and offers me his hand. "Get dressed. Do your makeup. Put on that red dress. We're going to war, Maya. And we're going to win."
I take his hand and stand. He's right. I can't hide. I can't let Derek think he broke me.
Even if I'm pregnant with his baby. Even if everything is falling apart. Even if I don't know how I'll survive this.
I'll put on my red dress and face my enemies.
"What time does the gala start?" I ask.
"Eight o'clock. We need to leave in thirty minutes."
Thirty minutes to transform from terrified, pregnant, sick girl into powerful woman seeking revenge.
I can do this. I have to do this.
As Ethan leaves my room, I catch his arm. "Thank you. For telling me about my mother. For being honest."
He looks at me with those intense blue eyes. "I'm not being completely honest, Maya. There are things I still haven't told you. Things that might change how you feel about our arrangement."
"What things?"
"Things you'll learn eventually. But not tonight. Tonight, we focus on making Derek Walsh regret every decision he's ever made."
He walks out, leaving me alone with my secrets and fears.
I walk to my closet and pull out the red dress. It's beautiful and expensive and everything I'm not.
But tonight, I'll pretend to be everything Derek lost. Even while his baby grows inside me. Even while James Walsh's crimes scream for justice. Even while Ethan hides secrets that could destroy us both.
I'm about to step into the shower when my phone buzzes. Another text from the unknown number that mentioned my mother.
"Don't go to the gala tonight. It's a trap. Ethan is using you for something worse than revenge. Check his office. Third drawer. The file labeled 'Chen Family.' You'll understand everything."
My hands shake as I read it.
Chen Family. That's my family. There's a file about us in Ethan's office?
I should ignore this text. It's probably James Walsh trying to manipulate me.
But what if it's not? What if Ethan really is hiding something terrible?
I have twenty-five minutes before we leave for the gala.
Should I trust Ethan and get ready? Or should I sneak into his office and find that file?