The Document That Should Have Been Impossible

Leontine pressed her lips together.

“That was when I lost the pregnancy you knew about.”

He looked up.

“You were pregnant with our baby?”

“Yes.”

“And you never told me?”

“I thought you knew.”

Aurelian’s brow furrowed.

“You told me you were pregnant.”

“I told you I had taken a test. I never had the chance to explain that the first pregnancy ended.”

He remembered that period suddenly and painfully.

Leontine had been pale and tired. She had told him she needed rest. He had assumed it was ordinary pregnancy discomfort. Then, one morning, she had said the doctor wanted her to stay home for a while.

He had been preparing for a major acquisition and had spent long hours at the office. He had asked if she needed anything. She had said no.

He had accepted the answer.

Aurelian closed his eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I believed you didn’t want the baby.”

His eyes opened.

“What?”

“You were worried about Maelis. You said our family was already under pressure. You told me maybe we should wait before having another child.”

“I said we should wait. I never said I didn’t want one.”

“You looked relieved when I mentioned postponing.”

“I was trying to be practical.”

“I was bleeding and frightened, Aurelian.” Her voice remained soft, but pain sharpened every word. “I was sitting in a clinic bathroom with a nurse outside the door, and I kept thinking that if I called you, you would hear the fear in my voice and feel obligated to come home. So I told you I was fine.”

He had no answer.

Leontine looked down at her hands.

“When the miscarriage happened, your mother came with me. She knew I was devastated. She also knew Seraphina’s embryos were still frozen. She said perhaps something good could come from all that loss.”

“And you agreed.”

“I was grieving. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“You became pregnant with Seraphina’s child while grieving ours.”

Leontine’s eyes filled again.

“I know how that sounds.”

“It sounds like you replaced our baby.”

“No.” She stood abruptly, shaking her head. “No, I would never say that. Nothing could replace our child. I carried that loss every day. This pregnancy began because I wanted to hold on to something—not because I wanted to erase what happened.”

Aurelian looked at her, and for the first time, he saw how tired she truly was.

The carefully styled hair. The expensive dress. The composed smile she wore for guests.

Beneath it all was a woman who had been frightened, grieving, and alone.

Still, compassion did not erase the betrayal.

“You should have told me.”

“Yes.”

“You should have allowed me to choose.”

“Yes.”

“You let me believe you were carrying our child.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You let Maelis see things she couldn’t understand.”

“I never meant to frighten her.”

“Did you tell her to keep secrets from me?”

Leontine shook her head immediately.

“No. I told her not to repeat private conversations because she is too young to understand them. That was wrong. I see that now.”

“She said you told her Daddy gets sad.”

Leontine’s face softened with regret.

“I said grown-ups can feel sad when they talk about doctors and babies. She must have remembered it differently.”

Aurelian looked toward the sunroom.

Through the glass doors, he could see Maelis sitting on the rug, arranging three dolls beneath a small blanket. She was humming to herself, perfectly safe and content.

Leontine followed his gaze.

“I love her,” she whispered. “I would never intentionally put her in the middle of this.”

“I know.”

The admission surprised them both.

Aurelian did know that. Whatever else Leontine had done, her love for Maelis had always been sincere. She had never tried to replace Maelis’s mother or claim a role that did not belong to her. She had patiently learned the child’s routines, sat through fevers, and memorized the songs Maelis liked at bedtime.

That made the secret harder, not easier.

“Is the baby healthy?” he asked.

Leontine’s hand moved over her stomach.

“So far.”

“Boy or girl?”

“A girl.”

Aurelian looked away.

A daughter.

Another little girl in the family.

The thought should have warmed him. Instead, it filled him with uncertainty.

“Does my mother know you told me?”

“No.”

“Where is she?”

“At the clinic.”

“Of course she is.”

Leontine reached toward him but stopped before touching his arm.

“I never wanted to deceive you forever.”

“But you did deceive me.”

“I know.”

“And now I’m supposed to accept that this child is my niece?”

“She is biologically Seraphina’s daughter. But she will need a family. I don’t know what she will call you.”

Aurelian’s expression hardened.

“You’ve already decided she will be raised here.”

“I haven’t decided anything. The transfer was done under an agreement. Your mother arranged the legal paperwork, but nothing is final until the birth.”

“An agreement?”

“With the fertility center. With the donor agency. With a family-law attorney.”

Aurelian let out a slow breath.

“This was planned.”

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“Six months.”

He stared at her.

Six months of appointments, injections, paperwork, and whispered conversations.

Six months during which he had kissed her forehead, asked about her day, and believed she had been honest with him.

Aurelian felt something inside him withdraw.

“Where is the paperwork?”

“In my study.”

“Take me there.”

Leontine did not move.

“What for?”

“I want to see what you agreed to.”

“You’re angry.”

“Yes.”

“I know.”

“I’m not going to hurt you or shout at you. But I need the truth.”

She studied his face.

Then she nodded.

They walked through the hallway in silence.

As they passed the sunroom, Maelis lifted one of her dolls.

“Daddy! She needs her bottle!”

Aurelian stopped.

He forced a smile and stepped inside.

“Give it to her, sweetheart.”

Maelis held out the tiny plastic bottle. He pretended to feed the doll, making exaggerated slurping noises until she laughed. Leontine stood in the doorway, watching them with tears in her eyes.

Aurelian wanted to hate her.

It would have been easier.

But love, even wounded love, did not disappear simply because trust had cracked.

After a minute, he kissed Maelis’s forehead.

“I’ll be back soon.”

“Promise?”