Page 92 of Secret Heir

“Can I see her?” Daniel asks hopefully.

“Not yet. But soon. I promise.”

That night, after Daniel is asleep, I stand outside her door. I can hear her moving around inside. She’s pacing, probably. I know her well enough to know she can’t sit still when she’s upset.

“Aria.” I lay my hand flat against the wood. “We need to talk.”

Silence.

“I know you’re awake. I can hear you.”

More silence.

I grit my teeth. “Fine. Don’t talk. But you’re going to listen.” I lean my forehead against the door. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to accomplish. Running in the middle of the night with our son, making up stories about Alexander—what is the endgame here?”

Nothing.

I switch tactics, deciding to appeal to her motherhood.

“Daniel asked me today if you’re coming back,” I say, knowing this is a low blow. “He thinks you left him. Do you understand that? Our seven-year-old son thinks his mother abandoned him because you tried to run.”

I hear a sound that might be a sob, but she doesn’t speak.

Growling, I slam my hand against the door. “Talk to me, goddammit. Tell me what’s going through your head. Help me understand why you’d do this.”

The silence stretches so long I think she’s not going to answer. Then, she says quietly, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Oh, she finally speaks. “Try me.”

“I did try you. And you called me a liar.”

Because what she said was so egregiously false, I had no choice but to call her out on her shit.

“Then give me a reason to believe you,” I say. “Stop hiding behind fear and actually tell me what happened. What changed between two days ago and last night that made you try to run?”

Silence again.

I slam my hand against the door in frustration again. “Talk to me!”

Nothing. Instead, I just hear the sound of crying on the other side of the door.

I walk away before I break the door down.

Day two is worse.

Daniel won’t stop asking about her and he refuses to eat properly. He keeps going to her suite and knocking on the door, calling for her.

“Mama? Mama, please come out. I’m sorry. Whatever I did, I’m sorry.”

I have to physically carry him away, and he sobs in my arms while I explain again that he didn’t do anything wrong.

My guard reports that Aria hasn’t eaten since I locked her in. She won’t touch the trays we leave outside her door.

“Force the issue if you have to,” I tell him. “She’s pregnant. She needs to eat.”

That afternoon, I try again.

“Aria. You need to eat something. For the baby if not for yourself.”