Chapter 4 Untitled Chapter

Liana's POV

The ceramic tiles of the bathroom floor were cold against my knees, but I barely felt the chill. For ten days, the world had been tilting on its axis. Every morning brought a wave of nausea so violent I could barely stand, a persistent, churning sickness that I’d tried to blame on the stress of the divorce. I’d told myself it was the trauma of seeing Clara in my jewelry, or the finality of Ethan’s cold goodbye.

I looked at the small plastic stick resting on the edge of the sink. My breath hitched. Two pink lines. Bold. Unapologetic.

"No," I whispered to the empty room, my voice cracking. "Not now."

I sat back on my heels, my hand trembling as I reached for the counter to steady myself. The math was simple and cruel. I had been carrying Ethan’s child throughout the gala. I had been pregnant while I sat across from him and signed away our marriage. While he was holding Clara, while I was weeping over a life that was already dead, this tiny, secret life had been taking hold inside me.

"You really timed this well, didn't you?" I muttered, a dry, hysterical laugh bubbling up in my throat.

I stood up, catching my reflection in the mirror. I looked pale, my eyes shadowed, but I didn't see the broken woman from a week ago. I saw a mother. The shock didn't shatter me; instead, it acted like a lens, snapping everything into a sharp, terrifying focus. I couldn't stay here. I couldn't let Ethan or my parents dictate what happened next.

"If I go to Mom and Dad, they'll just tell me to beg for him back," I said to my reflection. "They'll say a child needs a father’s name, especially a name like Vanderbilt. They’ll judge me for losing him before they ever support me for having this baby."

I wouldn't be a pawn in their social climbing again. I needed someone outside the splash zone of Ethan’s influence. I reached for my phone, scrolling past the missed calls from my mother and the cold, professional emails from Ethan’s lawyers. I stopped at a name I hadn't dialed in years: Dr. Felicity Lane.

The phone rang three times before a sharp, melodic voice answered.

"Liana? Is that you? It’s been quite a long time."

"Felicity," I said, my voice steadier than I expected. "I... I hope I’m not interrupting."

"You sound like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff, dear. What’s happened?"

"I left Ethan," I said, the words coming out in a rush. "Or he left me. It doesn't matter. The divorce papers are signed, Felicity. But I just found out... I’m pregnant. And I have nowhere to go where I won't be suffocated by his shadow or my parents' expectations."

There was a brief, weighted silence on the other end. "London," Felicity said firmly.

"What?"

"Pack a bag. Only what you absolutely need. I am booking you a business-class seat on the red-eye tonight. You’ll stay with me in South Kensington. My guest suite is empty, and frankly, I could use the company of someone with your talent."

"Felicity, I can't let you do that. I don't have a job, I don't—"

"Liana, stop," she interrupted, her tone brooking no argument. "You were the most brilliant student I ever mentored before you let that man turn you into a hostess. I am not suggesting this; I am telling you. You need a clean slate and a world-class obstetrician. I have both. Will you be at the airport, or do I have to come fetch you myself?"

A sob of pure relief escaped me. "I’ll be there. Thank you. Truly."

"Don't thank me yet. Just get here. I’ll send the itinerary to your email in ten minutes."

I hung up, and for the first time since the gala, the air didn't feel like lead in my lungs. I walked into the walk-in closet—the gilded cage that held the remains of Liana Vanderbilt. I grabbed a battered leather suitcase I’d kept from my university days and threw it onto the bed.

I bypassed the Chanel suits. I left the silk gowns Ethan had bought for me to wear like a doll. I walked past the jewelry box filled with diamonds that felt like shackles.

"I don't want any of it," I whispered, shoving a few pairs of jeans, thick sweaters, and my old sketching notebooks into the bag. "You can keep the wife you bought, Ethan."

I wasn't packing for the woman who smiled at charity auctions while her husband ignored her. I was packing for the woman who was going to raise a child on her own terms.

As I finished, my old phone buzzed on the nightstand. A text from Clara: Ethan says you haven't moved your things yet. Don't make this difficult, Liana.

I stared at the screen, feeling a cold, distant flick of disdain. She wanted a reaction. She wanted a fight. They both expected me to crawl, to scream, or to plead for a larger settlement.

"You think you’ve won," I said, looking at the phone. "You think you’ve finished me."

I didn't reply. I didn't call Ethan to tell him he was going to be a father. He had forfeited that right the moment he let Clara wear those cufflinks. I took the phone, popped the back open, and pulled out the SIM card. With a sharp snap, I broke the plastic in half.

I dropped the pieces onto the vanity, right next to my wedding ring. I grabbed my passport and my suitcase and walked out of the bedroom without looking back.

The taxi ride to the airport was a blur of city lights. As I checked in and moved through the terminal, the weight of the last few years seemed to peel away with every step I took toward the gate. Ethan and Clara had calculated everything—the assets, the reputation, the timing. But they had made one catastrophic mistake.

They thought I was nothing without them. They never considered what I might become once I was free.

I boarded the plane and found my seat, sinking into the plush leather. As the engines began to roar, signaling the start of our taxi to the runway, I lowered my hand to my stomach. It was still flat, still seemingly unchanged, but I could feel the truth of it pulsing beneath my palm.

I didn't look out the window at the receding skyline of the life I’d lost. I looked straight ahead at the back of the seat in front of me, my jaw set.

"It's just us now," I whispered, my voice lost in the hum of the cabin. "And we’re going to be just fine."