The faint color remaining in Isabella’s cheeks drained away instantly, leaving her skin as white as chalk.
Her breath stopped in her throat. Cold sweat broke out along the back of her neck, a deep, icy terror rushing through her veins so fast it made her head spin.
Her unseeing eyes widened in the dark, fixed on nothing, but her ears took in every single heavy syllable.
’He knows.’
The thought screamed inside her mind, loud and terrifying. ’How does he know?’
Aaron didn’t move a single muscle. His giant frame went utterly, terrifyingly still.
His face didn’t break, his mouth didn’t open, but inside his head, the world slammed into sharp, violent focus.
The doctor’s visit. The door.
The small, faint shadow he had seen through the gap between the wood and the polished floor.
The maid.
The frightened, pale face of the woman standing in the hallway, holding a tray of tea she hadn’t been asked to bring.
Aaron’s eyes slowly turned, shifting across the gap between the tables until they landed directly on Kian.
Kian wasn’t looking at the judge.
He wasn’t looking at Arthur. He was staring straight at Isabella. He was watching the terror wash over her pale face, watching her hands shake, drinking in her shock like water after a drought.
He looked alive. He looked triumphant.
Aaron’s mind clicked the last piece into place.
’You little bastard,’ Aaron thought, his chest rising in one slow, deep, lethal breath.
"Mr. Pendleton," Judge Daniel said, his voice dropping into a sharp, skeptical register. "That is a very serious claim to bring to this bench without prior notice. What is the basis for this request?"
"Your Honor," Arthur said smoothly, holding his hands out in a gesture of absolute moderation.
"We are not presenting this as an established fact today. We have received information from a source close to Mrs. Carter’s current living circumstances. Given that the existence of an unborn child materially changes questions of parental rights, future custody, and financial support, we are simply asking the court to order a confidential medical verification."
Niko stepped forward immediately, his voice booming through the quiet room.
"Your Honor! Counsel is asking this court to invade my client’s private medical affairs based on wild rumors from an unnamed, unverified source! This is nothing more than a desperate fishing expedition to stall these proceedings!"
"It is not a fishing expedition, Your Honor," Arthur countered instantly.
"If Mrs. Carter is not pregnant, a simple medical check clears the matter entirely and we proceed with the dissolution. But if she ’is’ carrying a child, my client has a legal right to establish paternity before any final decree is signed."
Judge Daniel looked down at Arthur, his eyes cold behind his lenses. "Mr. Pendleton, suspicion is not evidence in my courtroom."
"I agree, Your Honor," Arthur said calmly.
"Which is precisely why we are not asking you to make a ruling on paternity today. We are asking the court to verify whether the underlying fact exists. If the child exists, the law requires that Mr. Carter’s parental rights be addressed."
Judge Daniel turned his eyes toward Kian. "Mr. Carter. How did you come to receive this information?"
Kian stood up slowly, keeping his face calm, just as Arthur had instructed him during their hours of preparation.
"Your Honor," Kian said, his voice smooth, carefully rehearsed.
"Information regarding my wife’s medical condition was brought to me privately. Out of respect for her privacy and the sensitive nature of the situation, I did not seek to investigate it through personal means. I brought it straight to my attorney so the court could handle it properly."
It was a complete lie, wrapped in the quiet, polite tone of a concerned husband.
Isabella felt a wave of dizziness hit her so hard she had to grip the edge of the dark wood table with both hands to keep from sliding out of her chair.
Judge Daniel sat in silence for a long moment, looking between the two tables.
He looked at Isabella’s pale, terrified face, then at Kian’s quiet, expectant posture.
"The court will not rule on custody or paternity based on statements made today," Judge Daniel finally declared, his gavel resting in his hand.
"However, given the legal implications involved in a pending divorce decree, the court will authorize a confidential medical verification to be conducted by an independent court-appointed physician."
He looked straight at Niko. "If the test is negative, Mr. Pendleton’s motion is dismissed with prejudice, and we proceed to final judgment. If it is positive, we will schedule a hearing regarding parental rights. This session is adjourned."
’Crack.’
The sound of the gavel hit the room like a gunshot.
"All rise," the bailiff called out.
The courtroom burst into a quiet storm of scraping chairs, rustling papers, and low whispers.
Outside the double doors, the press could be heard stirring, sensing the sudden shift in atmosphere even through the thick wood.
Isabella couldn’t stand up. Her legs felt like water. She sat frozen in her seat, listening to the movement around her, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
A second chance. A rebirth. The mark behind her ears. Everything to escape Kian and yet...
Aaron stood up slowly. His tall, broad frame loomed over her table like a dark wall.
He didn’t look angry. He didn’t look flustered. His face was entirely blank, his eyes like two pieces of blue ice.
He bent down, taking Isabella’s elbow in a grip that was soft, steady, and unyielding.
"Up," he whispered softly into her ear. "Come on princess."
She turned her head toward the sound of his voice, her green, sightless eyes wide with panic. "Aaron... he knows. He—"
"I know princess," Aaron murmured, pulling her up gently until she was on her feet, guiding her hand until her fingers hooked securely around his forearm. He wrapped his massive arm around her waist, tucking her side against his ribcage, taking most of her weight before she could stumble. "I’ve got you. Let’s leave here."
They turned toward the center aisle, moving slowly toward the exit doors. Niko was right behind them, hurriedly packing his files, his face dark with frustration.
Halfway down the aisle, a shadow stepped out from between the rows of oak benches. Isabella heard the familiar, heavy tread of leather shoes stopping right in front of them.
Kian blocked the path.
Arthur tried to reach out to catch Kian’s sleeve, but Kian ignored him, stepping directly into the narrow center aisle.
He didn’t have his lawyer next to him now. He was standing alone, his jacket open, his eyes fixed entirely on Isabella’s pale, unseeing face.
Isabella froze, recognizing the faint scent of his cologne and the sound of his breathing. Her grip on Aaron’s arm tightened until her nails dug into the dark fabric of his jacket.
Aaron didn’t slow down.
With one smooth, effortless shift of his body, Aaron stepped directly between them. One second Kian was staring at Isabella; the next, his entire view was filled by Aaron’s broad chest and dark suit.
The two men stood inches apart in the quiet aisle. Aaron was taller, broader, his physical presence heavy enough to crush the air out of the space between them. But Kian didn’t step back.
"Step aside," Aaron said softly. His voice didn’t carry anger. It carried the dull, lethal weight of an iron bar hitting concrete.
Kian looked up into Aaron’s blue eyes, a bitter, vicious smile spreading across his face.
"This doesn’t concern you, Kazarov," Kian said, his voice loud enough to cut through the quiet rustle of the room.
Aaron tilted his head, his face entirely unreadable. "She’s my soon-to-be wife. Everything about her concerns me."
Kian’s smile turned sharp, ugly, his eyes flashing with a possessive heat that burned through his polite exterior.
"She’s carrying my child," Kian said, leaning in just an inch.
The words hung in the air, heavy and sharp.
Behind Aaron, Isabella felt her stomach drop into nothingness.
But listening to Kian’s voice, hearing that familiar, arrogant edge—something inside her, some small, buried remnant of the anger she had hidden for weeks, suddenly flared up through the fear.
She turned her head toward the sound of Kian’s voice, her pale face tight, her eyes dark and flashing with a sudden, cold fury.
"It isn’t yours to claim, Kian," she said, her voice shaking slightly, but clear enough for every person remaining in the room to hear.
"I don’t owe you a single breath. Not anymore."
Kian’s jaw tightened, his eyes snapping to her face.
For a second, the cool composure he had built up all morning cracked, showing the raw, ugly desperation underneath.
Aaron looked down at her from the corner of his eye, a faint, proud gleam touching his blue eyes for half a second before he turned back to Kian.
"You heard her," Aaron said quietly. "Now get out of the way."
Kian stared at Aaron for three long seconds. He didn’t fight. He didn’t raise his hands. He simply let out a short, cold laugh, stepping to the side of the aisle.
"Enjoy protecting her while you can, Kazarov," Kian whispered, his voice dripping with venom. "You can hide her in your house, but you can’t erase what’s inside her. She’s tied to me forever."
Aaron didn’t answer. He didn’t give Kian the satisfaction of a single word.
His arm remained firmly around Isabella’s waist as he guided her forward, keeping his pace deliberately slow so she wouldn’t stumble. Isabella followed the pressure of his body, her fingers still curled tightly around his forearm.
They passed Kian.
One step.
Two.
Kian remained where he was, watching them move away.
Watching Aaron’s arm around her.
Watching Isabella lean instinctively into him.
Something dark twisted violently inside his chest.
He could let them leave.
He should let them leave.
That was what a rational man would do.
But Kian had never been particularly rational where Isabella was concerned.
His jaw tightened.
He turned sharply and started after them.
As Kian passed, he deliberately slammed his shoulder into Aaron’s with enough force to make his intent unmistakable.
It was a childish move, a petty strike meant to prove he could still reach out and touch him. Aaron didn’t even sway. His heavy frame absorbed the impact like a stone wall, his feet anchored to the floor.
Kian kept walking, pushing open the heavy double doors of the courtroom and stepping out into the bright, flashing lights of the hallway press.
Aaron stood in the center of the aisle, watching the doors swing shut behind him. His jaw worked once, a small, dark muscle ticking near his ear.
He turned back to Isabella, guiding her face toward him.
She was trembling, her hands clasped against her stomach, her sightless eyes wide as she turned toward his heat.
Aaron reached out, his big, rough palm coming up to rest gently against the side of her neck, his thumb wiping away a bead of cold sweat from her temple.
Don’t worry Isabella," Aaron murmured, his deep voice wrapping around her, quiet and absolute. "Let him play his little game. He has no idea what he just started."
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