Chapter 2
Natalya Stephenson covered her mouth, tears falling as she glanced at Rayden's back, then at my belly, looking as if the whole world had wronged her.
"You... you and her... what about me?" she choked out.
The room erupted in another wave of whispers and gasps.
I watched her performance with interest. Natalya, the heiress of a family intertwined with the Prestons for generations, had been after Rayden for eight years straight.
She'd followed him from home to overseas, all the way from high school to the seminary. Everyone in our circle knew she was destined to be Rayden's wife.
She suddenly realized she'd said something wrong and waved her hands in panic. "No, no, that's not what I meant... I mean, Rayden's a ascetic—how could he... how could he..."
She couldn't go on, bowing her head and sobbing, her shoulders trembling. She looked utterly miserable.
Someone nearby immediately handed her a tissue.
She took it, but instead of wiping her tears, she looked up at Rayden, her eyes full of heartache.
She said, "Rayden, don't be afraid. No matter what happens, I'll always stand by your side. I know someone must have... must have used some underhanded tricks..."
Finally, she turned and gave me a proper look.
Her gaze was a mix of sympathy, patience, and that unmistakable air of 'I'm his official girlfriend here, so I'm not going to bother arguing with you.'
"Miss," Natalya said, biting her lip, her voice so gentle it was almost dripping with honey. "Please, don't make light of the child. We're talking about three lives here. If they are Rayden's, the Preston family will take responsibility. But if they are not..."
She paused, letting out a sigh, her face brimming with pity.
"If they are not, I can help you get in touch with the best orphanage," she offered.
Everyone was staring at me, waiting to see what I'd do next.
I laughed.
It wasn't a cold or sarcastic laugh—just a real, honest laugh.
I stepped forward, closing the distance until I was standing right in front of Natalya. She was half a head shorter than me, so I had to look down at her.
"So, your name is Natalya, huh?" I said.
She blinked, caught off guard that I actually knew her name.
"I heard you've been chasing Rayden for eight years?" I looked her up and down. "Eight years—do you even know about the birthmark on his back?"
Her face fell.
"Do you know that when he gets drunk, he holds onto someone and won't let them leave?" I pressed.
Her expression darkened again.
"Do you know what song he hums when he's drunk?" I asked.
Her face went ghostly pale.
I leaned in, pretending to whisper but loud enough for everyone to hear. As the main character, I said, "The Mercy Chant. He hums the Mercy Chant when he's drunk. Did you know that?"
The room erupted in stifled laughter.
Natalya's face went from pale to green, then finally turned a mortified shade of red.
Braden, who had kept quiet until now, finally spoke. "That's enough."
He stood up and walked over, his eyes scanning me from head to toe like he could see right through me.
Being stared down by the head of a powerful family was a whole different vibe. His gaze made my skin crawl.
But I didn't back down.
After I had survived five months, a look like that was nothing to me.
"Do you have any proof the baby is Rayden's?" Braden asked, his tone cool and measured.
I waved the ultrasound report. "Isn't this enough?"
"That just proves you're pregnant," he said, shaking his head. "It doesn't say anything about who the father is."
"Fine, let's do a paternity test," I fired back, not missing a beat. "Right now, immediately. Amniocentesis, non-invasive DNA, whatever—just pick your method, I don't care."
Braden was caught completely off guard.
He clearly hadn't expected someone they thought was just here to stir up drama to boldly demand a paternity test herself.
"You're not scared?" Braden asked.
I smirked. "Scared of what? The only thing I'm afraid of is you guys not having the nerve to actually run the test."
Silence fell over the room.
The whole place was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Everyone was waiting for Braden to make a decision.
He stared at me for so long that I thought he was about to call security and have me thrown out.
Then he turned and looked over at Rayden, who had been kneeling on the ritual cushion this whole time.
"Rayden, what do you have to say?" Braden asked.
Rayden finally moved.
He took his time, pulling up his ascetic's cloak to cover the rose tattoo. Then he got to his feet and walked right up to me.
Standing this close, he towered over me—almost a whole head taller. I had to look up just to meet his gaze.
"Five months ago," Rayden spoke, his tone as cold and distant as ever. "Room 1808, Lanthea Hotel."
My heart skipped a beat.
"That night... It was you," Rayden said, not asking, just stating the fact.
I lifted my chin, flashed a confident smile, and said, "So, you do remember after all?"
He didn't answer. Instead, his gaze dropped to my belly and lingered there for what felt like forever.
For the first time, there was something in those icy eyes I couldn't quite figure out.
Then he turned to look at Braden.