Page 109 of All The Pretty Little Lies

"Me," I whisper, the word barely audible. "They needed me."

Natasha nods, tears streaming down her face. "You're the only biological Rossi female, Vesper. The only one who could provide what Victor wanted."

The truth crashes over me like a tidal wave, threatening to pull me under. Every strange occurrence, every unexplained medical procedure, every moment of confusion and fear over the past two years– it all suddenly makes horrifying sense.

"My eggs," I breathe, feeling nauseous. "That's why they...that's why you..."

I think back to the countless times I'd woken up groggy and disoriented, to the unexplained bruises and the vague memories of medical equipment. It hadn't been just once or twice – they'd been harvesting my eggs repeatedly, building up a stock for their twisted plans. But, if I am the mother…who was the father?

“Who donated the sperm?”

Natasha’s face grows pale.

“Dmitri,” I gasp.

“Yes,” she admits. “Victor had to ensure his bloodline so he had Dmitri’s sperm banked a long time ago. Just in case. Once the embryos were created, and deemed viable, Mario took the male and destroyed the female. They implanted it…”

"When did they do the transfer?" Maybe there is still hope to keep my son from them. To take back what was stolen from me. “Tell me who is carrying my son.”

Natasha's eyes meet mine, filled with a mixture of pity and fear. She swallows hard, her throat working visibly before she speaks. "Vesper," she says, her voice trembling, "Bianca gave birth over a month ago.”

VESPER

I stand there,frozen, as Natasha's words echo in my mind like a twisted, haunting melody. The world around me blurs, and I feel as if I'm drowning in a sea of betrayal and lies. My cousin…not my cousin. My uncle and Bianca. The architects of my torture. A son...my son, born from pain and deceit.

My legs give way, and I sink to the floor, the cold a stark contrast to the fire of emotions raging within me.

"Vesper," Natasha's voice breaks through the fog, laced with concern and regret. But I can't look at her. Can't bear to see the face that now represents years of lies.

I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold the pieces of my shattered reality together. The memories of those two years of torture flood back, more vivid and painful than ever. Each scar on my body now tells a different story, not one of random cruelty, but of calculated manipulation by those I trusted most.

"A son," I whisper, the words foreign on my tongue. A child born from the union of deception and brutality. My mind races, conjuring images of a faceless boy with my eyes and the monster's smile. Does he know about me? Does he wonder why his mother abandoned him?

The weight of this revelation crushes me, and I struggle to breathe. The carefully constructed walls I've built around myself since my return crumble, leaving me exposed and vulnerable. Tears I've held back for years finally break free, cascading down my cheeks in a torrent of anguish and rage.

Through the haze of my pain, I hear footsteps approaching. The sound echoes off the tile floors, growing louder with each passing second. Suddenly, the room fills with a whirlwind of movement and voices.

Zaire is there in an instant, his strong arms enveloping me. His familiar scent surrounds me as he pulls me close. I feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against my cheek, a stark contrast to the chaos in my mind.

"What the fuck happened?" Oscar's voice booms through the room, his usual calm demeanor shattered by the scene before him. His blue eyes, normally so controlled, now blaze with a fury I've never seen before.

Talon stands beside him, his hands clenched into fists, his normally cheerful face twisted with concern and anger. The tension in the room is palpable, thick enough to choke on.

Alex, his face ashen, steps forward. His voice trembles as he recounts the horrifying truth, the years of lies, the betrayal of my uncle and Bianca, the existence of a son born from my suffering.With each word, Oscar's face grows darker, the veins in his neck pulsing with barely contained rage.

As Alex finishes, a roar of pure, unadulterated anger tears from Oscar's throat. It's a primal sound, filled with pain and promises of vengeance. In three long strides, he reaches Natasha.

Time seems to slow as Oscar's hands grasp Natasha's head. There's a moment of terrible stillness, and then, a sickening crack echoes through the room. Natasha's body crumples, lifeless, onto the table.

Zaire tries to shield my eyes, his large hand covering my face, but it's too late. Through the gaps between his fingers, I see everything. The violence, the finality of it all, burns itself into my retinas. I should feel something, horror, perhaps, or satisfaction, but I'm numb, lost in the storm of my own emotions.

"Take her upstairs," Oscar commands Zaire, his voice low and dangerous. His eyes, when they meet mine, are filled with a mixture of fury and tenderness that makes my heart ache.

As Zaire lifts me into his arms, I catch a glimpse of Talon. He stands guard at the door, his normally jovial face set in grim lines. His eyes meet mine for a brief moment, conveying a silent promise of protection.

Zaire carries me up the staircase, his steps sure and steady, as he makes his way through the living space of the penthouse until he reaches his room, kicking open the door. He lays me gently on the plush comforter, the material cool against my feverish skin. He searches my face desperately. "Vesper," he pleads, his voice cracking with emotion. "Please, say something. Anything."

But words elude me. My mind is a maelstrom of fractured thoughts and raw emotions, each fighting for dominance. It’s too much. Too much pain. Too much fear. Too much of everything.

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