Chapter 6 Come to London

Liana's POV

The heavy oak doors of my parents’ estate creaked open, but the air that greeted me was colder than the night outside. I stood in the foyer, my old suitcase feeling like a lead weight in my hand.

“I didn't think you’d actually show up here,” my father said, his voice echoing off the marble floors. He didn't move from his position by the fireplace in the drawing-room, a glass of amber liquid clutched in his hand.

“I didn't have anywhere else to go, Dad,” I said, my voice trembling. I stepped further into the room, looking for some sign of warmth. “The divorce is final. Ethan... he’s already moved on. I need a place to stay. Just for a little while.”

My father turned, his eyes narrowing. “You were a D’Arden, Liana. You had the world at your feet, and you let it slip through your fingers because you couldn’t manage your own husband. Now you come back here expecting us to pick up the pieces?”

“It wasn't just about managing him!” I snapped, the frustration bubbling up. “He was unfaithful. He was cruel. And Dad... there’s something else. I’m pregnant.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. I looked toward my mother, who was sitting on the velvet sofa, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

“Pregnant,” my father repeated, the word sounding like a curse. “So you’ve tied yourself to that family forever, yet you have none of their protection. You made your choices, Liana. You married into the D’Arden family against the advice I gave you about their reputation, and you signed those papers. You made your bed. Now you lie in it.”

“I’m your daughter!” I cried out, stepping toward him. “I have nothing. I’ve left everything behind. I just need a room. A few weeks to figure out my next move.”

My mother stood up then. She walked toward me, her heels clicking softly. For a second, I saw a flicker of something—softness, perhaps, or a memory of the woman who used to tuck me in. She reached out, her fingers grazing my arm.

“Liana, dear,” she whispered, her eyes searching mine. “A baby... that is a significant complication.”

“I know, Mom. That’s why I’m here. I can’t do this alone,” I pleaded, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Please. Just tell him I can stay.”

She looked back at my father, who remained a statue of judgment by the hearth. The hope in my chest flared for a heartbeat, then died a cold death as she withdrew her hand.

“Your father is right,” she said, her voice regaining its icy composure. “We raised you to be a woman of substance, Liana. If you were strong enough to walk away from a marriage of that caliber, you must be strong enough to deal with the consequences yourself. We cannot have the scandal of your failed domestic life under this roof. It’s best you handle this on your own.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. “You’re turning me away? When I’m carrying your grandchild?”

From the corner of the room, Vivian, my sister, let out a soft, sharp laugh. She hadn't said a word, just watched the entire exchange like it was a dull play.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Liana,” Vivian said, swirling the ice in her drink. “You always were the one for theatrics. Did you really think you could just come crawling back here after failing so spectacularly? It’s embarrassing, honestly.”

I looked at her, then back at my parents. They weren't a family; they were a board of directors, and I had just been voted out.

“I see,” I said, my voice dropping to a whisper. The humiliation burned in my throat, hot and acrid. “I’m a liability now. Not a daughter.”

“You are a grown woman who made a series of poor decisions,” my father stated, turning his back to me. “Goodnight, Liana.”

“Don't worry,” I said, my voice cracking as I gripped the handle of my suitcase. “I won’t beg. I should never have come here in the first place. I thought—I actually thought for a second that you might care. What a joke.”

I turned on my heel and marched out, the sound of my own footsteps mocking me. I slammed the heavy front door behind me, the finality of the sound ringing in the crisp night air.

I made it halfway down the driveway before my legs gave out. I sank onto the cold stone, burying my face in my hands. The tears came then—ugly, racking sobs that tore through my chest. I was completely, utterly alone. The wind bit at my skin, and the looming silhouette of the mansion felt like a tomb.

I have nothing, I thought. No home. No husband. No family.

But then, a sharp, fluttering sensation stirred in my lower abdomen. It was faint, perhaps just nerves, but I pressed my hand against my stomach.

“I still have you,” I whispered into the dark.

The thought acted like a spark in the freezing night. I couldn't stay here. I couldn't let my child grow up around people who viewed love as a transaction. I stood up, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. I pulled my old phone—the one with the new SIM card I’d picked up at the airport—and dialed the only number I had left.

The line rang twice before a familiar, sharp voice picked up.

“Liana? It’s three in the morning in London. Why are you calling?” Dr. Felicity Lane asked. Her voice softened instantly. “Wait. What’s happened? You sound... you sound like you’ve been crying.”

“I’m at my parents’ house,” I choked out, leaning against a lamp post at the end of the drive. “Or I was. They threw me out, Felicity.”

“They did what?”

“They don't want the scandal. They told me to deal with the consequences myself.” I let out a jagged breath. “I’m at the gate. I have nowhere to go. I don't know what to do.”

“Liana, look at me—or listen to me,” Felicity said, her tone shifting into that of the mentor who had guided me through my most difficult years of study. “Are you okay? Physically, are you and the baby safe?”

I closed my eyes, a single tear tracking down my cheek. “No. I’m not okay. I’m really not.”

There was a brief silence, then the sound of a pen scratching against paper.

“Good,” Felicity said firmly. “Honesty is the first step. Now, listen to me very carefully. Your flight leaves in four hours. I’ve already sent the car to your location via the app. It should be there in ten minutes.”

“Felicity, I can’t just—”

“Yes, you can,” she interrupted. “You are a brilliant woman, Liana, and you are currently being wasted in a city that only sees you as an extension of a man. I have a research position at the university that needs your specific expertise, and I have a nursery that needs filling. Leave that hollow house behind. Come to London.”

I looked back at the mansion, the lights in the windows flickering out one by one as my family went to bed, indifferent to my existence.

“London,” I whispered.

“Everything you need is here,” Felicity said. “The question is, are you ready to stop being a victim of your circumstances and start being the woman I know you are?”