Exiled with a Bump, Back with a Crown

I shouldn’t have come here.

Not to this secret bunker beneath our estate. Not to this room lit by flickering monitors and quiet deals. I was supposed to surprise him. To bring good news—news that might soften the ever-present chill in his eyes. I thought the sonogram would bring us closer. That learning we were expecting triplets might stir something human in him.

But what I found instead…

Evander Mortis stands at the center of the room like he owns it, his tailored suit perfect, his voice calm. He’s in the middle of a negotiation—two foreign men sit across from him as he gestures to diagrams on the screen.

And the weapons?

They're not ordinary. They're Titanis prototypes—classified tech, the pride of my father’s firm. The legacy my family bled to build.

And Evander…

Evander is selling them.

My grip tightens around the sonogram as I hide behind a shelf, the glossy paper now bent and creased from how hard I’m clutching it. I shouldn't be hearing any of this. But then he speaks, and his words slice straight through me.

“She’s the golden ticket,” he says with a chuckle, so casual it feels like a joke.

I stop breathing.

One of the buyers laughs. “You seriously married the VP’s daughter for access?”

“Damn right,” Evander replies smoothly. “Nerina was always just a pawn in stilettos. Sweet girl, sure. But naïve. She opened the gate, and now? I rule the whole estate. Boom.”

The shelf is the only thing keeping me upright.

That voice—so familiar—just reduced me to an object. A means to an end.

But it gets worse. Of course it does.

“The real queen?” he adds with a smirk. “That’s Arden. She’s the one who deserves the crown.”

Arden.

My Arden.

My best friend—the only one I’ve ever had.

My heart claws against my ribs. He can’t mean that. He can’t mean her.

“She’s too soft,” Evander says with a shrug. “Still clings to this stupid idea that love means something. That’s what makes her so damn easy to use.”

I can’t take it anymore. My hands are shaking so badly, the sonogram falls to the ground with a whisper of sound. No one notices. But I do. I feel it like a knife in my chest.

I’m pregnant.

With his children.

Three of them.

And he sees me as nothing more than a passcode. A stepping stone. A useful idiot.

And Arden—my friend, my sister—she was helping him the entire time?

I slip out while they’re still talking, my heels clicking against the floor, sounding too loud, too real. I don’t even know how I find my way through the maze of corridors, but I eventually emerge into the night.

The cold wind greets me like a slap.

I clutch my belly. My children. I have to stay upright—for them. Not for Evander. Not for Arden. Not for the storm of betrayal roaring inside me.

For a brief moment, something dark slinks into my thoughts—maybe it would be easier to disappear, to end all of this. But then I feel it—a tiny flutter deep within me.

And that…

That saves me.

A sob rises and breaks from my throat.

No.

I will not die for a man who used me as currency.

I will not crumble because my best friend traded me for a seat next to a throne.

I return home like a ghost. The walls are the same, but I am not. Something in me has snapped—clean, permanent.

He’s already there when I arrive. Of course he is. Cold and put together, like the truth never touched him.

“You look like hell,” he says, scanning my face like a predator sizing up prey. “Everything alright?”

“Just tired,” I answer flatly.

“Oh,” he says, feigning casual. “Arden’s in town. She’s throwing a gala this weekend and wants you to come.”

Wants me there? Now?

“She misses you,” he continues, coating his venom in honey. “Says you two have drifted apart.”

Drifted apart? Is that what he’s going to call it? He’s already rewriting the story—trying to paint the knife in my back as distance.

I nod slowly. I don’t trust my voice not to crack.

“Sure,” I whisper.

His face lights up like he’s won. Again. He leans in to kiss me, but I turn at the last moment so his lips land on my cheek.

“I’m exhausted,” I say, tone flat as ice.

He studies me, his eyes narrowing. There’s calculation there—he senses something’s off. But he lets it go. Instead, he wraps his arms around me.

“This is all for us,” he murmurs as his fingers stroke my hair.

I lay stiffly in his embrace, my eyes locked on the ceiling, waiting for his breathing to slow. And when it does…

I swear—on every heartbeat that still belongs to me—I will never forget this moment.

You used me, Evander.

You lied.

You turned my best friend into your accomplice.

But you have no idea who you married.

I might’ve been your golden key once.

But now?

Now I am the lock you’ll never pick again.