Page 156 of Illicit Heir

"We need to go now," Caleb's man repeats.

Maeve holds her hands out.

I hesitate but hand my son to her.

We walk through the mansion, down the staircase, and every step feels like I'm approaching my death. We step outside, get into the limo, and I take my son from Maeve.

The driver heads toward the church. It's the one all the heads of the O'Learys are married in. It's the place where women have been forced to say vows. It's a building I never wanted to step foot in, in the position I find myself. Today I will have to willingly say vows and do what I can to keep my son.

The ride goes too quickly. At every traffic light, I will it to turn red, but it doesn't. I'm soon standing outside the church.

I hand Maeve my son, warning, "Ya better take care of him."

"I will," she confidently declares, then adds, "Stop worrying, please."

Stop worrying? I'll never stop worrying, I say to myself, glaring at her.

We walk side by side into the church, and I swallow bile, feeling sick, trying to focus on my son. The moment we get inside, music starts to play.

Maeve's ordered to go to the front of the church and sit in a pew. The doors shut, and she disappears with my baby.

Anxiety spins to the depths of my soul. I blink hard to not cry.

When the doors open again, I step past them and cringe.

There are only six people in attendance. Caleb, his two brothers, Maeve, my baby, and the priest.

I swallow hard, and my knees wobble as "The Wedding March" plays. Somehow, I force myself down the aisle, trying to stay confident and keep my eyes locked on Caleb's so I don't upset him. He's warned me too many times that if I do anything to embarrass him, my son will pay the price.

When I reach the front, he takes my hands, and the sick feeling in my stomach grows. I know what's to come later tonight, which adds to my panic and fear.

My son starts to whine, and Caleb turns, shooting him a dirty look. He orders Maeve, "Shut him up!"

I turn as well, and a tear escapes. I wipe it before Caleb sees it.

Maeve holds my son close to her, cooing, trying to shush him.

I offer, "He's probably hungry."

Caleb snarls, "Didn't ya feed him before ya came?"

"Yes, but he's growing."

Caleb glowers at me.

The priest clears his throat. "Are we ready to begin?"

Caleb turns to him. "Aye. Ya may."

The tremor in my hands grows worse, even though Caleb squeezes them tighter. I barely hear the priest or Caleb as he says his vows. I watch his mouth forming the words, but everything feels like I'm in a tunnel, and I don't know how I'll repeat the same things to him.

It comes time for my vows, and the priest touches my shoulder. "Lauren?"

I snap out of it. "Yes, I'm ready," I assert, not wanting to harm my baby, knowing there's no getting out of this. So I stand taller, straightening my shoulders, lifting my chin, and focusing on the priest.

He booms, "Repeat after me. I, Lauren Byrne, take you, Caleb O'Leary..."

My voice comes out barely audible as I repeat the words.

---