Chapter 13: His Warning
[Sarah]
The morning sun cast long shadows through the penthouse’s floor–to–ceiling windows as I passed Theodore’s master suite. Through the partially open door, I caught a glimpse of his physical therapy session.
“Good, Mr. Pierce. Just ten more steps.” The male nurse supported Theodore’s weight as he gripped the parallel bars, jaw clenched with determination. A dark bruise marked his leg where I’d grabbed him during our struggle.
Our eyes met in the mirror. Something flickered in his expression – pain? Anger? – before his usual mask slipped back into place. I hurried past, my heart hammering against my ribs. The torn designer dress lay crumpled in my room’s wastebasket, a six–figure reminder of how quickly control could turn to violence.
“Miss Sarah?” Mrs. Thompson’s voice stopped me in the hallway. “You really should eat
something.”
My hand instinctively moved to my still–flat stomach. “I’m not hungry.”
“The morning sickness won’t improve if you skip meals.” She lowered her voice. “I’ve prepared the ginger tea you like.”
I managed a weak smile. “You’re too good to me, Mrs. Thompson.”
“Someone has to be.” She patted my arm. “He’s waiting in the dining room.”
Of course he is, I thought. Theodore Pierce, master of timing and manipulation.
“Sit.” His voice carried that familiar note of command.
“I have class.” The lie tasted bitter. My morning class had been cancelled, but he didn’t
need to know that.
“You have time.” He gestured to the chair beside him, his ring catching the light. “We need to discuss compensation for the dress.”
I sank into the indicated chair, keeping my injured wrist below the table. The smell of his
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Chapter 13: His Warning
coffee made my stomach lurch treacherously. Not now, I silently begged the twins. Please,
not now.
“Twenty–eight thousand dollars.” I forced my voice to remain steady.
“That’s quite a price tag for a borrowed dress.” His eyes narrowed. “From Sullivan MedTech’s PR department, I assume?”
My head snapped up. “How did you—”
“I make it my business to know everything that happens in my house.” He took a
measured sip of coffee. “Including late–night meetings with bank presidents.”
“You had me followed.” The realization burned like acid.
“I had you protected.” He set his cup down with precise movements. “There’s a difference.”
“Is there?” I couldn’t keep the bitterness from my voice. “Like there’s a difference between
protection and control?”
“Plus two thousand for the wrist X–ray,” I added before he could respond. “Thirty thousand
total.”
“Show me.”
“What?”
“Your wrist.” His voice left no room for argument, but something else threaded through
his words concern? Guilt?
Reluctantly, I extended my arm across the table. Purple bruises marked where his fingers
had gripped – evidence I hadn’t planned to share. His expression darkened as he studied
the marks, then pulled out his phone. A few taps later, my phone chimed with a transfer
notification.
“You’ll visit Elizabeth at the estate this morning,” he said, his tone brooking no argument.
“That wasn’t part of our deal.”
“She’s been discharged from the hospital. The family is gathering.”
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Chapter 13: His Warning
“Your family,” I corrected, “not mine.”
“You’re my wife.” The words hung between us, heavy with implications neither of us was ready to examine. “The car will be ready in twenty minutes.”
I pushed away from the table, my untouched breakfast a silent rebellion. “Money doesn’t fix everything, Theodore.”
“No,” he agreed softly, surprising me. “But it fixes what can be fixed.” C
The drive to Greenwich felt endless, each mile increasing the pressure in my chest. Manhattan’s glass towers gave way to manicured estates, each hidden behind elaborate security gates. I pressed my forehead against the cool window, trying to settle my churning stomach.
Elizabeth held court in the main drawing room, looking perfectly coordinated despite her recent hospitalization. Various Pierce relatives circulated with practiced ease, their
concern measured in careful doses.
“Sarah, darling.” Elizabeth’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’re looking rather pale. Morning sickness, perhaps?”
My heart stopped for a moment. “Just tired,” I managed. “How are you feeling?”
“Better, now that Theodore’s recovery is progressing.” She studied me over her teacup. “Though I hear Sullivan MedTech is facing some… difficulties.”
The room’s subtle shift in attention was almost tangible. Pierce family members drifted closer, their interest poorly disguised.
Like sharks scenting blood, I thought grimly.
“Nothing we can’t handle.” I kept my voice level.
“Of course.” Elizabeth set her cup down with a delicate clink. “Though marriage does create certain… obligations. Family helping family.”
“I’m not asking Theodore for money.”
“No?” Her smile turned knowing. “A pregnancy might secure both your position and help for your father’s company. Children have a way of… softening hearts.” Q
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Chapter 13: His Warning
The teacup trembled slightly in my hands. If you only knew, I thought. Two hearts already beating, two lives already changing everything.
“I don’t use children as bargaining chips.”
“All children are bargaining chips in our world, dear.” She glanced meaningfully at Theodore’s portrait above the fireplace. “Especially heirs.”
The drive back to Manhattan stretched in suffocating silence. Theodore sat beside me, his tablet’s glow casting harsh shadows across his face. Though his eyes were fixed on market reports, the rigid set of his jaw betrayed his distraction. The privacy partition sealed us in our own poisonous bubble, the air growing thicker with each passing mile.
“If you’re pregnant,” he said suddenly, his voice as cold as a morgue drawer sliding shut, “I’ll make sure that child never draws breath.” C
The words struck me like shards of ice. I stared at him, truly seeing him for the first time – not the man who’d transferred thirty thousand dollars without hesitation, but something darker, more ruthless. The gentle glow of passing streetlights caught the planes of his face, turning familiar features alien and dangerous.
“You’d…” My voice caught. I forced myself to continue, though my heart hammered against my ribs. “You’d kill your own child?”
His laugh was soft and utterly without warmth. “My child? Is that what you think this is about?” He finally turned to face me, his grey eyes glacial. “I’ll burn everything to the ground before I let anyone use a pregnancy to manipulate me. Even you.”
“Is that a threat?” The words came out barely above a whisper, my hand instinctively moving to shield my stomach. The gesture was too quick, too telling, but I couldn’t help
myself.
“A promise.” He turned back to his tablet with clinical detachment. “Choose your next
moves carefully, Sarah. This isn’t a game you want to play with me.”
The twins fluttered beneath my palm – too early for true movement, but I felt them all the
same.
“He doesn’t know“, I reminded myself.
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