Page 118 of Royal Deception
“It’s a boy!” the doctor exclaims as she holds him up, his tiny body wriggling in her arms. Rory grabs my hand and squeezes gently, our eyes meeting in a moment of pure adoration.
As Rory cuts the cord, I watch, a beaming smile on my face. Once our son is placed on my chest, I can’t help the tears that fall as I stroke his tiny, soft head, overwhelmed with love.
“Let’s name him Sean,” I say, my voice thick with emotion.
“Sean,” Rory repeats, thinking it over. “I like it. Sean Woodcrest.”
I shake my head, my heart swelling even more. “No. Sean Brannagan.”
Rory’s expression morphs into one of awe as he stares at me, a look of pure admiration in his eyes.
A few hours later, I’m resting while Rory rocks Sean gently in his arms. I suddenly remember Miranda’s words on the phone earlier, and a curious smile creeps onto my face.
Eagerly, I reach for my phone, dialing her number, my heart fluttering as I wonder what the surprise could be.
“Hello, darling!” Miranda’s voice rings out, cheerful as ever. “How are you?”
“Baby Sean Brannagan is here,” I announce, my heart full as I relay the news. We chat for a few minutes about the birth, and then I hesitate before asking, “So, about that surprise…”
“Oh, yes, darling. Wonderful news,” Miranda says with a little too much excitement in her voice. “I got a letter addressed to you today. You were accepted into fashion school!”
My jaw drops. Can it really be possible that in the last twenty-four hours, I’ve gotten everything I could have ever wanted? It seems too perfect, like some kind of dream.
But as I glance over at Rory, his expression filled with adoration as he gazes at our son, I realize it’s not a dream. This is real.
And I truly got my happy ending.
48
RORY
As we settle into our new lives as parents to our son, things only seem to get better between us. It’s hard to be a new parent, but we tackle it with as much grace and aplomb as we can. Clary is a champ, breastfeeding Sean during the day and pumping just before bed so I can take the night shift.
I take some time off as head of the business, leaving the reins to Lucky while I spend time with my new family. It isn’t easy letting go, but it’s worth it when I get to wake up to Clary’s beautiful face beside me, see our son smile at me for the first time, or be able to help give him his first bath.
Anatoly is still rotting away in jail for now, thankfully. And Aleksey and the rest of the Russian syndicate have been quiet. Our client list has grown substantially after it was “leaked” that Blackthorn Security, our company, was the one to help get Anatoly arrested.
He was already waning in popularity, but this helped push us over the edge. On top of that, we manage to unearthanothercriminal conspiracy.
It turns out that Clary’s stepmother, Kate, had secretly changed Clary’s father’s will. Clary’s entire, sizeable inheritance,meant to ensure Clary’s comfort for the rest of her life, had been stolen by the horrible bitch, and the Feds were only too happy to take her away for it.
A few months after Sean is born, I take Clary back to the same spot in the forest where we had our first proper date and get down on one knee, asking if she would allow me to be her husband for the rest of our lives.
The wedding is a whirlwind because Clary doesn’t want to wait another second. We get married three months later and head off to our honeymoon on a beautiful little tropical island, far away from the happenings in Thornville.
The first night of our honeymoon, I bring out a box and gently place it in Clary’s hands.
“What this?” she asks, curiosity written on her face. Her eyes are wide, and she stares at the box, her brow scrunched.
My heart pounds in my chest. This feels so much harder than the proposal for some reason, but I open the box for her, displaying her collar on a velvet cushion. “I had it repaired,” I say, a lump in my throat as I explain. “I’m not going to force you to wear it, but I’d like to know if you’d consider…” I pause, swallowing. “If you’d consider ever wearing it again?”
Clary’s eyes light up and my heart squeezes in my chest. “Yes,” she says, reaching out slowly to touch it, as though afraid it might break if she’s too rough. “Will you put it on me?”
This isn’t just about love and commitment—it’s about trust, something we’ve fought for and earned. Knowing Clary wants this too has my hands almost fumbling as I lift the necklace from the box.
As I place it around her neck and lock it shut, I lean down and kiss her on the back of the neck before sitting up and pressing something into her hand.
“This is an extra key,” I say. “I know you won’t use it, but it’s there if you ever need it.”
