Twice His Wife

been pregnant. She had lost it. She had never known. And somehow, he had. Cassian Vale-her legally bound stranger of a husband-had known something she didn't even know about herself. And he said not

." "No," Cassian said, his voice low. "I let you think you were gone." She stared at him. "What do you mean?" He set the mug down slowly. Walked toward her. Close enough to steal her breath without touching her. "I've known where you were every day for the past three years." Her chest tightened. "That's not love," she whispered. "It wasn't meant to be," he said. "It was meant to be safe." Anais shook her head. "No. It was meant to keep me in orbit." "And here you are," he said calmly. As if her pain was a map. And he had drawn the route from the start. Later that day, the doorbell rang. She didn't expect visitors. She rarely expected anything anymore. Cassian was out again. A meeting. Or maybe another game she wasn't allowed to see yet. She opened the door and froze. Standing there was Irene. But not the version Anais remembered. This Irene wore anger like perfume. Elegant, sharp, and impossible to ignore. "We need to talk," Irene said. Anais stepped aside. Barely. They sat in the sunroom, an untouched space where nothing ever bloomed. Irene crossed her legs and folded her arms. "Why did you really come back?" Anais blinked. "You think I had a choice?" "No," Irene said. "But you still didn't have to come here. You could've asked for a lawyer. A mediator. You could've vanished again. So why show up at the dragon's door and ask to be eaten?"