Chapter 7 - Two Pink Lines
Then something nobody planned for.
Three mornings straight, I woke up nauseous. Coffee made me gag. I got dizzy standing up. I blamed stress.
On the third night, staring at myself in the bathroom mirror, it hit me. I was late. Almost two months late.
Damon was out at dinner. I called a car to a 24-hour pharmacy and bought three tests, three different brands.
Back home, I locked the bathroom door.
First test. Positive. Second. Positive. Third. Positive.
I sat on the cold tile staring at all three.
Pregnant. By the man whose downfall I was building piece by piece.
If I ended it, I could cut every permanent tie to Damon. A clean divorce. If I kept it, a piece of that family stayed knotted into my life forever.
Then another thought surfaced. This family had spent five years humiliating me because they believed I couldn't give them an heir. And now I was carrying a child conceived inside the marriage. A legitimate Ashford. The exact thing Vivienne swore I was incapable of.
I wrapped the tests, carried them to the outside trash where Marta would never find them, and went back upstairs.
I messaged Grant. I'm pregnant.
He called immediately. "You're sure?"
"Three tests."
Silence. "What are you going to do?"
"Keep it."
"Rosalind. Think about what that means. If this child is born, the divorce gets much more complicated. You stay tied to Damon."
"I know."
"Then why?"
"Because this baby is mine too." He went quiet. "And because the Ashfords have spent five years telling me I couldn't give them a legitimate heir."
He understood right away. "If it's a boy—"
"They'll panic."
"And if it's a girl?"
May you like
"They'll still panic." I sat on the edge of the bed. "Either way, I'm done letting them decide what my body is worth."
The next day my OB confirmed it. Six weeks. Strong heartbeat. I scanned the ultrasound into the vault.
