Chapter 10: The Fallout
Dominic didn't speak for three days.
He locked himself in his study. The staff whispered that he wasn't eating. That they heard things breaking inside.
Seraphina was escorted from the estate by security. She fought, screamed, clawed. Callum had to physically restrain her.
"You'll regret this!" she shrieked from the driveway. "Both of you! I'll destroy everything! I'll go to the press!"
"The press already has the story," Callum said calmly. "Laurent Medical released a statement this morning. Your real name, your background, your crimes — it's all public."
Seraphina's face went blank. Then she collapsed onto the gravel, not in performance this time, but in genuine, total defeat.
I watched from the window. I felt nothing.
On day four, Dominic emerged.
He stood in my doorway — unshaven, eyes bloodshot, shirt wrinkled. He looked nothing like the pristine, controlled man I'd married in a contract.
"Is it true?" His voice cracked. "Everything?"
"Yes."
He took a step forward. Then stopped. Like he didn't have the right to come closer.
"The baby..."
"Is yours. And mine. Not hers."
His hand went to the doorframe. His knuckles turned white.
"I made you..." He couldn't finish. His jaw worked, but the words wouldn't come.
I finished for him. "You made me lie on a cold bed while you set a timer. You made me drink poison someone disguised as kindness. You called me a ghost. You told me not to forget what I was."
Each word hit him like a physical blow. He flinched, flinched, flinched.
"I didn't know—"
"You didn't WANT to know." My voice hardened. "You never asked my name. Never asked where I came from. Never asked why a healthy, educated woman would sell her womb for three million dollars when she was worth three billion."
He looked at me — really looked — for maybe the first time ever.
And what he saw made him take a step back.
"Vivienne, I—"
"Don't." I held up my hand. "Don't say my name like you know me. You don't. You never did."
He stood in the hallway, broken and silent, while I closed the door in his face.
That night, I heard him outside my room. He didn't knock. He just sat there, his back against my door, until morning.
I pressed my hand to my belly and whispered to my baby.
"Your father is learning what it means to lose something he never valued."
---
He locked himself in his study. The staff whispered that he wasn't eating. That they heard things breaking inside.
Seraphina was escorted from the estate by security. She fought, screamed, clawed. Callum had to physically restrain her.
"You'll regret this!" she shrieked from the driveway. "Both of you! I'll destroy everything! I'll go to the press!"
"The press already has the story," Callum said calmly. "Laurent Medical released a statement this morning. Your real name, your background, your crimes — it's all public."
Seraphina's face went blank. Then she collapsed onto the gravel, not in performance this time, but in genuine, total defeat.
I watched from the window. I felt nothing.
On day four, Dominic emerged.
He stood in my doorway — unshaven, eyes bloodshot, shirt wrinkled. He looked nothing like the pristine, controlled man I'd married in a contract.
"Is it true?" His voice cracked. "Everything?"
"Yes."
He took a step forward. Then stopped. Like he didn't have the right to come closer.
"The baby..."
"Is yours. And mine. Not hers."
His hand went to the doorframe. His knuckles turned white.
"I made you..." He couldn't finish. His jaw worked, but the words wouldn't come.
I finished for him. "You made me lie on a cold bed while you set a timer. You made me drink poison someone disguised as kindness. You called me a ghost. You told me not to forget what I was."
Each word hit him like a physical blow. He flinched, flinched, flinched.
"I didn't know—"
"You didn't WANT to know." My voice hardened. "You never asked my name. Never asked where I came from. Never asked why a healthy, educated woman would sell her womb for three million dollars when she was worth three billion."
He looked at me — really looked — for maybe the first time ever.
And what he saw made him take a step back.
"Vivienne, I—"
"Don't." I held up my hand. "Don't say my name like you know me. You don't. You never did."
He stood in the hallway, broken and silent, while I closed the door in his face.
That night, I heard him outside my room. He didn't knock. He just sat there, his back against my door, until morning.
I pressed my hand to my belly and whispered to my baby.
"Your father is learning what it means to lose something he never valued."
---