The next morning, a polite, firm knock on the bedroom door startled her. Miss The car is ready. It was the Matriarch's assistant.

As Aurora stood, the room tilted violently. The nausea from the night before returned with a vengeance. She gripped the edge of the dresser, waiting for the wave to pass. Stress. Lack of sleep.

Downstairs, the Matriarch was waiting. She avoided eye contact as she handed Aurora a thick envelope. There is cash in here, and a plane ticket to Philadelphia. An apartment and a monthly allowance have been arranged. Her tone was that of a CEO handling a severance package.

Aurora walked out of the grand house without a word, the front door closing behind her with a soft, final click. As she got into the waiting town car, a strange, protective urge made her place a hand over her stomach.

The car pulled away from the estate, and the nausea became unbearable. Please, she gasped to the driver. Can you pull over

He pulled over to the curb. She stumbled out, retching onto the manicured grass of a quiet suburban street. As she stood up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, a wild, terrifying thought sparked in her mind. Her last period. It was late. Weeks late.

I need to go to a pharmacy, she told the driver, her voice shaking. For... travel sickness medication.

He nodded, his expression carefully neutral, and drove her to the nearest 24-hour drugstore. Inside, under the harsh fluorescent lights, her hands trembled as she unwrapped a pregnancy test. In the sterile, anonymous bathroom, she waited.

Two pink lines bloomed on the plastic stick.

The white tile floor seemed to rush up to meet her. Pregnant. She was pregnant with the child of the man who had just thrown her out for killing another woman's baby.

A storm of emotions crashed over her terror, disbelief, and then, a fierce, primal protectiveness that stole her breath. This changed everything. He had to know. This wasn't about her anymore. This baby deserved a father.

Hope, fragile and desperate, flickered to life in the ruins of her despair. This baby could be the proof. The reason for him to finally listen, to believe her.

Take me to Lenox Hill Hospital, she told the driver, her voice no longer shaking, but firm with a new, terrifying purpose.

At the hospital's private wing, two imposing men in dark suits stopped her. She recognized them as Josef's personal security, Leo and Sam Miller. They formed a human wall in front of the glass doors.

I need to see my husband, she said, clutching the pregnancy test in her coat pocket.

Leo, the taller of the two, spoke into his earpiece, his eyes never leaving her face. The response was instantaneous. He lowered his hand. Mr. Griffin says he is not your husband, Leo reported, his face impassive stone. And he will not see you.

The words landed, sharp and dismissive. Please, Aurora pleaded, her voice cracking. Just tell him it's important. It's about... a baby.

The two guards exchanged a look of pure contempt. She knew exactly what they were thinking—that she was deranged, a malicious woman trying one last, cruel trick.

Sam Miller stepped forward, his bulk blocking her view. Mr. Griffin is with Ms. Ramsey. He has instructed us to remove you if you don't leave immediately.

The mention of Carmelita was a fresh stab of pain. He was in there, comforting the woman who had faked a miscarriage, while refusing to even hear about the existence of his own, real child. The cruelty of it was a physical weight on her chest, making it hard to breathe.

She clutched the test in her pocket. The evidence felt useless.

Defeated, she backed away. The bodyguards were an impenetrable wall. She stood on the curb, holding the one thing that could change everything, watching the entrance to a fortress she could not breach. The father of her child was a few hundred feet away, and completely unreachable.