Chapter 8 The Poisonous Promise

The heat appeared to cling to Bernice, even here inside the mansion. It was hard to rid herself of the tension that had built up during the drive with her. Every minute crawled like hours, with her innocence grating on my nerves like sandpaper, and each further mistake jabbed at his patience. By the time they ran into Olivia, he was hanging on by a thread; the edges starting to fray at the seams with every passing second. Ethan stormed down the hallway, hardly noticing the servants who scurried out of his way. His head was such a jumbled tangle of anger and frustration. He needed space, a moment to breathe, a moment to clear his head. But that moment never arrived. "Ethan. His feet stopped at the sound of her voice. He turned slowly, every muscle of his body tightening as his gaze met Olivia's. She was standing at the main door entrance, a portrait in calmness, a small smile playing on her lips as if she hadn't just thrown a grenade into my day. He had wanted to avoid her, just wanted to retreat into his room and shut out the world for just a little while. But naturally, she wasn't going to let that happen. "What are you doing here? What do you want?" Ethan asked, and the words came out far more acid than intended. She didn't flinch, her smile further extending as she moved into his space with that grace of hers that was so very calculated. There was something in her eyes, something that rang off warning signals in his head. "We need to talk," she whispered, her tone quite soft. "What?" Ethan said, snapping at her because he wasn't in the mood for games from her right now. Olivia turned to him; her fingertips brushed along his arm as she gestured toward one of the sitting rooms. "It's important, Ethan. Please." Ethan’s every instinct screamed at him to turn and walk out the door, but there was something in the way she said it twisted in his stomach, giving him that nameless feeling. He followed her into the room, but only after reluctance had its say. Softly, the door closed behind them. She did not sit but stood by the window, gazing out over the garden. He watched her for a moment, trying to read her mood, though she was an enigma, always had been. Beautiful, clever, and utterly ruthless. "I'm pregnant," she said finally, so soft, he almost did not hear her. The words hit him like a freight train, sucking the air right out of him. He gasped for air as his mind was stunned momentarily. All he did was gawk at her, and the room spun. "What?" He choked out, his voice barely more than a whisper. Olivia turned toward him, her expression tightly held in, though in her eyes, something flickered—something that almost resembled fear. "I only found out this morning," she went on, taking a step closer to him. The word hit Ethan like a weight, rocking him backward. Pregnant? She is pregnant With my child? The walls of the room closed in on him—pressing in at him from every side. It just could not be happening—not now, not like that. "How… how is that possible?" Ethan stammered, the question slipping out of his lips before he could stop, She raised an eyebrow, her features crossed in something almost as fleeting as a scowl. "Ethan, we've been together … you know how it's possible." She was so calm, almost detached, which had the effect of making the fire of panic inside him burn all the more. His mind whirled around, racing through shreds of this situation to piece it together. "Are you sure?" Ethan asked, desperation creeping into his voice. Olivia's shoulders relaxed, and her face softened a little. She reached out to take his hands. "I wouldn't lie about something like that," she said so softly. Her gaze darted into his. "I know this is so much to take in, but we need to figure out what we are going to do." Ethan turned his back as he ran a hand through his hair. His thoughts were such a messed-up jumble, a storm of emotions swirling inside of him. “This couldn't be happening. Not now, not when everything was already falling apart. "I need to think," he muttered, more to himself than her. "There's barely time to think, Ethan," Olivia replied now, her tone laced with urgency. "We have to act quickly." "Act?" He spun around to face her. "What do you mean, act?" She bit through her lip, hesitating for what felt like the very first time. "We must get married, Ethan, " she dropped the words like stones in the quiet that now lay between us. "Married?" The word was an acid on Ethan's tongue, which sounded wrong. All of this felt wrong. Olivia and I were never meant to be anything more than what we were: an affair, a distraction, a way to forget the mess that was my life. And now she was here, telling me we had to get married because she was having my child. He thought aloud. Her mind reeled around him as they spun into a ball of confusion and fear. "Yes," Olivia said, with great finality in her voice as she stepped an inch closer to him. "It's the only way, Ethan. We need to think about the child, our future." Ethan stumbled backward, shaking his head, trying to wrap his head around it. "This…this can't make any sense," he stammered as that weight threatened to crush him. "We can't just—" "There's no other choice," Olivia cut across him, her voice firm now, devoid of that softness. "What are you going to do? Walk out on me and leave me to raise this child on my own?" Her words cut deep; it was as if stinging, gnawing guilt had seized him in the chest. Of course, she was right. I couldn't walk away from her, the child. But to marry Olivia… that seemed to be something like a noose gradually tightening around my neck. "Olivia, this is…it's too much," he brought out, hoarse. She turned around, and that hard glint was still in her eyes. "We don't have an alternative, Ethan. We must do what is right." "Right?" He parroted. "None of this is right, Olivia! This wasn't supposed to happen! Her expression gentled, her eyes imploring. "I know it isn't what we had in mind, but sometimes life just doesn't turn out the way we want it to. We just have to adjust and make the best of it." Her words pulled him under, weightless. This wasn't the way it was supposed to go. I have always been very careful, always. How could this have happened? "How long have you known?" Ethan asked, needing to understand, know, and reason through what he couldn't believe was happening. Olivia hesitated for a second before she sighed. "A few days," she confessed, her voice so soft. "I wanted to be certain before I told you." "A few days?" Ethan repeated, anger surging anew inside him. "And you haven't told me sooner?" "I didn't want to worry you until I was sure," she came back, on defense. Ethan had clenched his fists to his sides, trying with all his might not to raise his voice. "And now you are going to tell me that we have to get married? Just like that?" "There's no other way out, Ethan," she told him, her voice urgent. "If we don't, people will talk. My reputation, your reputation—everything is going to be ruined." He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "You're concerned about your reputation? This is so far beyond that, Olivia!" She had reached out a hand to touch his arm, but Ethan shook it off, barely able to stomach that she might touch him right now. "Ethan, please," she whispered in that quivering voice of hers. "I'm scared. I don't want to do this alone." That vulnerable tone in her voice was finally what ebbed his anger away, turning it over into feelings of dark responsibility in its place. After all, Olivia was here because of him—all for that reason, even though he couldn't feign blindness to it now. And since he was a part of what had gotten her into this mess, he needed to own up to that responsibility. For his part, the thought of marrying her was far too close to a death sentence, another nail in the coffin that was to be his freedom. He turned his back on her. His mind was racing. No other way? Could we find some solution that did not bind us together in marriage when neither one wanted it? But the more he began to think through how that might work, the more weight seemed to settle upon him, like a blanket that had been draped across his shoulder. There were no easy answers, no simple way out of this mess. "I need time," he said finally, hollow. Olivia didn't say anything for some time. When she spoke, her voice was very composed, almost beaten. "We don't have much time left, Ethan. The more time we spend waiting, the worse." She was right, but he felt that his life was about to change so dramatically within such a short period that it kind of spun his head. How did all of this happen? Only weeks before, my life was nice and complicated but manageable. Now it seemed to be heading into a tailspin—and I felt whirling along with it, powerless. Ethan kept thinking. Olivia came closer to him; her outstretched hand rested lightly on his arm as he stood there, still dazed. "We will get through this. .. together," she whispered. Her voice was like balm to raw nerves. "I'm here for you, Ethan. He turned toward her, peering into her eyes for the barest glint of duplicity, but sincerity stared back. Well, that would be what she would have him see. Ethan couldn't shake the feeling it was more than just a mistake, more than bad luck. Olivia was too clever, too calculating, to let something like this go down by accident. But with a view in her eyes now—wide and seemingly genuinely full of fear and uncertainty—he began to doubt himself. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Maybe this did come down to just rotten fate. But even as that thought crossed his mind, the voice at the back of his brain refused to shut up. It whispered doubts at him and planted seeds of suspicion. No matter how much he pushed it away, it kept on coming back every second, stronger and louder than the last. He tried to breathe, to steady himself. "Olivia, if we do this… If we get married, everything changes. Are you ready for that?" She nodded at him with her eyes locked on mine. "Yes, Ethan. I am. And I think you are too. We can do this. She was so confident.