Page 27 of His Secretly Pregnant Cinderella

They finally made their way to the grand estate outside the city that the Kamaras family lived at.

She had learned, from listening to conversations in the Kamaras household, that Constantine had his own residence in Boston, and also in New York, LA and Greece.

One thing she had never done was look him up on the Internet though, and she hadn’t just to spite Constantine. Since he’d accused her of targeting his brother from the beginning, of knowing who he was and so she had vowed to herself she would never go searching for information about him or his family that wasn’t given directly.

The magnificent manor house came into view, and her stomach fluttered. Or perhaps that was the baby kicking her. Which had become more and more common lately. As soon as Constantine pulled the car up to the front of the estate, the doors flew open. It wasn’t the butler who greeted them, but Delia.

She had tears streaming down her face, and when Morgan got out of the car, the other woman flew across the empty space and hugged her. “Agape,” she said, smoothing Morgan’s hair back from her face. “Daughter. You have no idea how happy I am.”

And Morgan’s heart contracted in on itself.

Her own mother had never looked at her with this much joy. With this much excitement. With this much love.

No. Not even her own mother.

But Delia Kamaras was looking at her like she was miraculous.

And what would they think if she knew?

Yes, it would still be their grandchild, but it would not be a piece of their beloved Alex.

And they would know that she and Constantine...

“I didn’t know what to do,” she said.

Because that was true. She still didn’t know what to do, but the choice had been taken away from her. And right then she knew that she could never lie directly to Alex’s parents. She was going to have to figure out exactly how she was going to handle this. But she would not lie while she thought of it. “You will stay here,” Delia said. “We will take care of you.”

“My apartment is perfectly adequate,” she said. “You really don’t need...”

“It is not adequate,” Constantine said. “Not in the least. It is dangerous, in my opinion, and not suitable for any child of the Kamarases.”

“Of course not,” Delia said, ushering her inside. “You will stay here. We will have servants at your beck and call. Food prepared for you. Everything handled. That is how the child of the Kamarases is treated, and it is how you will be treated. You will never have to lift a finger again. You... You are... An angel. Salvation. You are to be coddled and protected at all costs.”

She looked over at Constantine, whose expression was something like thunder, but he did not speak.

“We will ready a suite for you. When are you due?”

“I...”

“She does not know,” Constantine said. “She has not yet been to the doctor.”

“Well that will not do,” Delia said. “We will make a doctor’s appointment for you immediately. And we will have him come here. And then you will let us know, because, we are about to leave. Our summer home in Saint-Tropez is waiting. And we of course never rest.”

“Oh...”

“You will be cared for here. And we will of course be here for the child’s birth.”

She looked over at Constantine again, whose expression was utterly unreadable.

“Constantine can show you to your quarters.”

Delia hugged her, and then fluttered off.

“My parents are very much cut from the same cloth as Alex.”

“What does that mean?”

“They’re thrilled you’re here. They will see you want for nothing. But they will not interrupt their partying.”

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