Page 147 of Porcelain Lies

“I…” I pause because I don’t really know what’s behind this sudden compulsion. “Because I’m about to give him a brother… or sister. I think I should get to know him, don’t you?”

Diana’s lips purse, appearing to mull this over. Abruptly she stubs out the joint on the paving beside the lounger and stands. “Okay,” she says, surprising me because I really didn’t think she’d go for it. “Come.” She holds out a hand.

I take it and let her pull me to my feet, wondering if this is something I’m going to regret, but not caring.

“Not a word about this to my brother, you hear?” She’s guiding me back to the Left Wing, her footsteps almost hurried.

“My lips are sealed, I swear it!” I’m getting increasingly nervous as we move quickly through the house and up the stairs.

“And you don’t come back here without me, do you understand?” Diana glances at me. We’ve reached the room with the secret doorway and she’s tapping along a join that releases with a faint click. The door swings open on silent hinges and I stare up at the stairs I stood beneath just a couple of days ago. Things ended very differently that day — with me getting my ass spanked and-

Stop it, Stella!

“I promise I won’t come back without you,” I say dutifully.

We’re walking up the stairs, our footsteps muffled by plush carpet. A short hallway leads to a door, which she pushes open, then peers around cautiously.

She looks back at me with a little nod. “He’s sleeping,” she whispers, then gives me a little nudge. I step forward and crane my neck to get a better view. My breath catches. Propped up against plump pillows is the little boy I saw in the garden.

My heart catches at how small he looks in the massive bed, surrounded by pristine white linens and medical equipment. His dark hair falls across his forehead in a way that’s achingly familiar — just like his father’s.

The resemblance to Aleksei hits me hard. Those same sharp, beautiful features softened by youth and innocence. Long dark lashes rest against pale cheeks, and his mouth holds that same slight downward turn at the corners that I’ve noticed on Aleksei during unguarded moments.

Science books line the shelves, their spines well-worn from frequent use. One lies open on the nightstand, its pages thumbed through. My fingers itch to brush that dark hair from his forehead, but I hold back, not wanting to disturb his peaceful sleep. Instead, I stand quietly, taking in every detail of this moment — the gentle whir of medical monitors, the moonlight playing across his features, the stack of physics books by his bedside.

This brilliant, vulnerable child represents everything Aleksei keeps hidden — his capacity for love, his deepest fears, his carefully guarded heart.

My hand drifts to my belly, where Bobik’s sibling grows. Tears prick at my eyes as I watch his narrow chest rise and fall with each breath. The medical equipment surrounding him speaks of constant care and vigilance, of a father’s desperate need to protect.

A surge of protectiveness washes over me, so intense it almost takes my breath away. This precious, fragile boy — kept hidden away like a rare treasure — suddenly means everything. I want to shield him from harm, to share in his thoughts, to see him smile.

Suddenly, I have a new reason to stay here.

Chapter Forty-Three

Stella

Morning light filters softly through the sheer curtains of my bedroom, casting a gentle glow across the ornate furnishings.

I stretch, the silk sheets cool against my skin, and for a moment, I allow myself to savor the quiet. The events of last night swirl in my mind — Diana’s unexpected openness, the glimpse into a world she so carefully guards.

A light knock interrupts my thoughts. Before I can respond, the door opens, and Diana steps inside, carrying a tray laden with breakfast. She moves with her usual grace, but there’s a subtle difference today — a slight easing of the tension in her shoulders, a hint of warmth in her expression.

“Good morning,” she says, her voice measured yet softer than usual.

“Good morning,” I reply, sitting up and smoothing my hair. “Breakfast in bed?” I smile.

“Let’s not get too comfortable, shall we?” she responds crisply, setting the tray on the small table by the window. Her gaze flickers to me, then away. “I trust you slept well.”

“I did, thank you.” I pause, studying her as she arranges the dishes just so. Fresh fruit, a perfectly poached egg, a pot of herbal tea — the usual. “And you?”

She hesitates for a fraction of a second. “Well enough.”

An awkward silence settles between us. I take a deep breath, deciding to seize the opportunity. “Diana, about last night…”

Her eyes meet mine, guarded yet attentive. “Yes?”

“I appreciated our conversation,” I say carefully. “It was nice to talk — to get to know you a little better.”

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