Page 41 of Santiago's Conquest (Four Dark Horsemen 1)

Howard still called me on the phone he gifted me, came and spoke to me softly, never making a move on me, because I would have run in a different direction; just the idea of sex and everything it implied raised panic in me.

In his arms, I’ve found solace just as I hoped, a temporary reprieve from the agony that my life has become.

But despite all the tenderness Howard has shown me ever since that day, I saw something else flashing in his eyes whenever our gazes met, and it always sent shivers down my spine. He never commented on Andreas’s words about the pregnancy; the detachment I felt in his arms was an answer in itself to such a possibility.

However, none of that created the numbness inside me, muting the despicable voice murmuring in my head and replacing it with the internal scream ringing in my ears every single minute.

No.

The positive pregnancy test did.

And the most horrific part of it all?

I have no idea who the father is, because the last time I slept with Howard was the day before Andreas raped me.

The life growing inside me is either from the man I love with all my heart or the man I hate with all my soul.

Which means part of me loves it, and the other hates it so much I want to stab myself with a knife and carve it out of me.

The test lies next to me on the table as a mocking reminder of Andreas’s words, even though there is a possibility it’s not his.

I haven’t told anyone about it. How can I?

My first instinct is of course to call Howard. But remembering his gaze, his orbs filled with resentment, I know it will be the end of us.

He’ll let go of me and in this break my heart if there is anything else left to break. My fairy-tale love will be forever tainted with his reaction to this news.

It might sound weak and pathetic… but Howard is the only man out there for me.

My father will either forbid me from seeing Howard or hunt Andreas down to get me married to him.

And Andreas?

He promised to come for his baby if I’m pregnant, the anticipation and the odd thrill detectible in his voice indicating to me somehow that a child is important to him. Some kind of grand scheme he plans, or he simply needs an heir to the throne, no one probably willingly wants to live with a monster.

I thought about all the choices I have and only one seems reasonable.

I won’t let this baby live. I hate it with a passion, but still part of me loves it.

This tiny love urges me even more to accomplish my goal and end this madness surrounding my life.

Andreas is a monster who should have never been born.

And so is his baby.

18 March

I made a couple of decisions three days ago and acted on them before I changed my mind.

I found the clinic, made an appointment, and paid one of the maids to take me there quietly with our driver, covering it up with a period-pains problem in case my father asked.

Everything went according to plan, and thankfully, since I’m eighteen, I didn’t need anyone’s permission to have an abortion.

Only, when the nurse told me to enter the room and prepare myself for the procedure before the doctor showed up, the door closed behind me with a loud click, and I spun around to see Andreas leaning on it with a predatory smile. “My love, what did I tell you about the pregnancy?” I stilled, stepping back from him when he moved toward me until the backs of my knees bumped into the hospital bed. “I’ll take the baby and leave you to Howard. Didn’t I say that?” His hand wrapped around my neck, and he pushed me against the nearest wall, a whimper of pain sticking in my throat when he squeezed me too hard.

He leaned closer, his disgusting breath filling my ears. “And what did you do instead? Came for an abortion.” He tsked, flicking my earlobe, and tears formed in my eyes while I tried to hit him so his hold on me loosened. “Be grateful for the baby in your womb, Flora, or I’ll rape you again for disobedience.” He let go of me, and I gulped for breath, while fear zapped through me. I wracked my mind for how he could possibly know about my condition, but of course no one gave me the answer to that question.

“It’s not yours,” I replied hoarsely, running my fingers over my neck and doing my best to keep my voice even instead of shrinking to my knees and crying out loud at his presence next to me. “I’ve slept with Howard multiple times.”

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