novelraw Chapter 180: The Result
Chapter 180: The Result
Aurora’s POV
The heavy weight of the night pressed in on us, the only sound being the rhythmic sound of the heart monitors and the steady beat of Oliver’s heart beneath my ear. I shifted slightly, my skin sticking to his in the cooling air. The scent of our lovemaking still lingered, thick and heady, but the comfort I usually felt in his arms was suddenly replaced by a sharp, acidic twist in my gut.
My eyes snapped open. I tried to swallow down the sudden surge of nausea, but it hit me like a physical blow. I scrambled off his chest, my movements fast as I nearly fell off the edge of the high hospital bed.
"Aurora?" Oliver’s voice was thick with sleep, rough and concerned. "Baby, what’s wrong? The silver—did I hurt you?"
I couldn’t answer. I didn’t have the breath. I clamped my hand over my mouth and bolted toward the bathroom, my bare feet slapping against the cold tile. I barely made it to the sink before I doubled over, my body heaving as I vomited everything I had in me.
The sound was harsh in the silent suite. I felt weak, my knees trembling so badly I had to grip the marble edges of the sink to stay upright.
"Aurora!"
I heard the heavy, labored footsteps behind me. I turned my head slightly to see Oliver standing in the doorway, looking pale and ghostly in his bandages. He looked like he was in agony just standing up, but his eyes were fixed on me with a terrifying intensity.
"I’m... I’m okay," I gasped, before another wave hit me. I bent over again, retching until my throat burned and my eyes watered.
Oliver was at my side in an instant. His large, warm hand splayed across my back, rubbing small circles as I shook. "You’re not okay. Look at you. I’m calling the healers back in here right now."
"No!" I choked out, reaching up to grab his wrist. I didn’t want the healers. I didn’t want anyone else in this room. "No, Oliver. Please. It’s just... it’s probably just the stress. Everything with your condition, your father... my body is just reacting. Please, don’t call them."
He hesitated, his jaw clenched in worry, but he obeyed. Instead, he grabbed a towel, dampened it with cool water, and gently wiped my face and mouth. He didn’t speak as he guided me back to the bed, lifting me as if I were made of glass and tucking the covers around us both.
I lay back in the crook of his arm, my head resting on his shoulder, but the peace was gone. My mind was calculating dates and numbers. I stared at the dark ceiling, my heart beginning to hammer against my ribs for an entirely different reason.
Stress, I told myself. It’s just the stress.
But the cold, hard logic in the back of my mind wouldn’t let it go. I started counting back. My last cycle. When was it? My eyes widened in the dark, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. I had been so caught up in the drama with the contract, the fear of Genevieve, and the double life I was leading between Oliver and Raymond that I had completely lost track.
I was three weeks late.
The realization felt like a physical weight crushing my lungs. I hadn’t even noticed. How could I not have noticed? My stomach flipped again, but this time it wasn’t nausea—it was pure, unadulterated terror.
"Aurora?" Oliver’s voice was low, vibrating through his chest into my cheek. "You’ve gone completely still. Talk to me. What are you thinking?"
I remained speechless, my tongue feeling like lead in my mouth. Pregnant? The word echoed in my mind like a death sentence. If I was... whose was it? My mind flashed to the dark, scented rooms of the club—to Raymond’s masked face and his commanding touch. Then I thought of the man holding me now.
I couldn’t be. I couldn’t.
"Aurora," Oliver said, his voice dropping to a more worried tone, becoming more focused, more clinical. He shifted so he could look down into my face. "The vomiting... the way you’re acting. Are you pregnant?"
The question hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. I felt like a trapped animal. I couldn’t tell him the truth—not when I didn’t even know it myself. Not when the truth might destroy the fragile world we had just rebuilt.
I forced a small, shaky laugh and lifted my head from his chest, meeting his gaze with a mask of forced calm. "Of course not, Oliver. Don’t be silly. I’m just exhausted."
I took a deep breath, praying he couldn’t smell the lie on my skin. "I had my period just last week. It’s just the trauma of today. I’m fine, I promise."
I saw a flicker of doubt in his sea-blue eyes, a shadow that didn’t quite disappear. He looked at me for a long moment, searching for the honesty I had tucked away. Finally, he sighed and pulled me closer, kissing the top of my head.
"Okay," he whispered. "If you say so."
But as I closed my eyes and tried to pretend to sleep, fear gripped me. I kept thinking about the two men in my life: Oliver, who was holding me right now, and Raymond, the masked man from the club. If there was a baby, who was the father? The thought made me want to get sick all over again.
The rest of the night was filled with fear. Every time Oliver shifted or let out a deep breath, my heart jumped. I stayed very still in his arms, pretending to be asleep, but my mind was screaming.
The Next Morning
When the sun began to peek through the curtains, Oliver was still asleep. His face looked peaceful, but the pale bandages around his chest reminded me of how close I had come to losing him.
I carefully slid out of bed, making sure not to wake him. I needed to leave. I needed to find a way to know for sure before I lost my mind. I grabbed my bag and headed for the door, but a hand caught my wrist.
"Where are you going so early?" Oliver asked, his voice rough and sleepy.
I forced a smile, though my lips felt stiff. "I... I just need some fresh air, Oliver. And maybe a real breakfast. I want to get a coffee from my favorite coffee shop."
He looked at me for a long time. His blue eyes seemed to see right through my lie. "Aurora, you’re shaking."
"I’m just cold," I lied again. It was becoming too easy to lie to him, and that scared me more than anything. "I’ll be back in an hour. I promise."
He slowly let go of my wrist. "Take a guard with you. After what Alex did, I don’t want you alone."
"I’ll be safe," I said, kissing his cheek quickly before rushing out.
I didn’t go for breakfast. I walked to a small pharmacy far away from the pack house. I wore a hood over my head so no one would recognize the King’s woman. My hands shook as I picked up a small box from the shelf. I paid with cash and hurried into a public restroom nearby. The silence in the small stall was deafening.
Please, Moon Goddess, let it be negative, I prayed. Please let this just be stress.
I waited for what felt like years, staring at the small plastic stick on the edge of the sink. One minute. Two minutes. Three.
I looked down, and my breath left me.
Two red lines.
I leaned against the cold wall, sliding down until I hit the floor. I wanted to scream, but no sound came out. I was pregnant. I was carrying a life inside me, and the world was falling apart.
If it was Oliver’s, people would say I used pregnancy to tie him down. If it was Raymond’s... I didn’t even know who Raymond really was when I thought about it.
I stayed on that floor for a long time, crying silently. My breath came in short, painful gasps that echoed against the tiled walls of the bathroom stall.
"What am I going to do?" I whispered, the words catching in my dry throat. "What am I going to do?"
The tears wouldn’t stop. They blurred my vision until the two red lines looked like bleeding gashes. My mind was a mess of terrifying thoughts. If this baby belonged to Oliver, the pack would never believe it was out of love. His father already called me a whore; the rest of the world would say I was just a girl who used her body to trap a King. They would say I grew a life inside me just to make sure I never had to leave the palace.
But then, a darker thought hit me—a thought that made my blood turn to ice.
What if it was Raymond’s?
I didn’t even know his real name. I didn’t know what he looked like behind that mask. He was a shadow, an assassin. How could I tell Oliver that I was carrying the child of a stranger—a man responsible for my pain?
How could I look into his sea-blue eyes while my stomach grew with a baby that might not even share his blood?
I squeezed my eyes shut, but all I could see was the masked face of Raymond and the gentle smile of Oliver. They were pulling me in two different directions, and I was breaking in the middle.
"I can’t go back," I sobbed, pressing my forehead against my knees. "I can’t face him."