Page 43 of Cinderella and the Daddy
"Pretty," she murmurs.
Something cold settles in my stomach. She’s seen my mother’s locket a hundred times. She’s insulted it at least that often. Why is she fascinated with my jewelry now?
"Be careful, little sister," she says as I walk away.
Anna's words echo in my head. She’s a bitch. I don’t know what she’s playing at, but I don’t care. I have more immediate concerns waiting for me in that paper bag.
Back at the compound, I go straight to my room. I close the door behind me, not bothering with the lock. I take the bag into the bathroom, and this time, I do lock the door.
Two pregnancy tests. Two chances to confirm what I already know in my bones.
I follow the instructions to a T, trying to detach myself from what I'm doing.
Three minutes, the instructions say. I set my phone timer and sink onto the cool bathroom floor, back against the tub.
The marble is cold through my leggings. I can hear Mac's claws clicking in the bedroom, his worried whine filtering through the door. My hands won't stop shaking. There's a water stain on the ceiling that looks like a bird in flight—I focus on it, trying not to think about how Luka's baby might already be growing inside me.
Two minutes.
My mother was alone when she found out about me. Did she sit on a bathroom floor too, terrified and exhilarated in equal measure? At least she chose her life. I'm a captive carrying my captor's child—what kind of twisted fairy tale is that?
One minute.
The second hand on my phone crawls forward. Somewhere in the house, I hear Luka's voice, low and commanding. The sound makes my chest tight. If this is positive, everything changes. No more hiding. No more pretending this thing between us is temporary.
The timer sounds like a scream in the quiet bathroom.
I look down at the tests. Two pink lines on the first. A blue plus sign on the second.
Both positive. Both declaring the same impossible truth.
My legs give out. I hit the bathroom floor hard, my knees cracking against cold marble. The tests scatter from my numb fingers. One slides under the vanity. The other lands face up, that damning plus sign staring at me like an accusation.
The scream builds from somewhere deep in my chest—not my throat, deeper. It tears through me like something alive trying to claw its way out. The sound that emerges isn't human. It's animalistic. Raw. The sound of a woman who's just realized she's trapped in a way she never imagined.
Pregnant. I’m pregnant with Luka’s child.
The word loops in my head, each repetition making it more real. Pregnant with my captor's baby. Pregnant in a world of violence and blood. Pregnant when I can't even save myself, let alone an innocent child.
My hand moves to my stomach without conscious thought. Somewhere in there, cells are dividing. A heart will form. Tiny fingers. Luka's eyes or mine? His darkness or my stubbornness?
"Fuck," I whisper to the empty bathroom. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
The sound of claws scratching at the door breaks through my breakdown. Mac always seems to know when something's wrong. His worried whining filters through the wood, followed by heavier footsteps.
One sharp knock.
"Cindy?" Luka's voice is sharp with concern. "What?—"
I scramble to my feet, shoving the tests into the drawer before he can see them.
As expected, he walks in a second later.
There is no such thing as locks in this house.
My face is a mess of tears and panic, but I force myself to meet his eyes.
"I'm fine," I say quickly, wiping my face with the back of my hand. "Just... tripped. Hit my elbow on the counter."
