His voice lowered. “May I see it?”
“Not now.”
He looked at me, surprised.
I held his gaze as firmly as I could. “You don’t get to appear out of nowhere and take over my life.”
Rain slipped down the side of his face. He did not wipe it away.
After a moment, he nodded.
“You’re right.”
The answer unsettled me more than resistance would have.
“I’ll send someone to retrieve your belongings,” he said. “You can list what matters.”
“No. I’ll go myself.”
“Emma—”
“They already think I’m helpless,” I said. “I’m not proving them right.”
His eyes searched mine.
Then, to my surprise, he opened the car door wider.
“Then we go together. Doctor first. Your belongings after.”
I wanted to refuse again. But the cemetery seemed to tilt slightly, and I gripped the door before I could hide it.
Damon noticed.
He said nothing.
That silence became the first mercy he gave me.
The clinic was unlike any doctor’s office I had ever entered. It sat inside a quiet brick building on a tree-lined street, with no sign except a small brass plaque by the door. The waiting room smelled faintly of lavender and raincoats. No one stared when Damon walked in with me wrapped in his coat, my maid’s uniform muddy and my cheek swollen.
A nurse named Helen brought me tea I could barely drink.
Damon stayed across the room while Dr. Vale examined me, close enough that I knew he was there, far enough that I did not feel crowded. I appreciated that more than I wanted to.
The baby’s heartbeat filled the room twenty minutes later.
Fast.
Steady.
Alive.
I closed my eyes.
My whole body trembled with relief.
Dr. Vale smiled gently. “The baby sounds strong.”
A sound escaped me, almost a sob.
Damon turned away toward the window, but not before I saw his hand close around the back of the chair. His knuckles whitened.
“Emma,” Dr. Vale continued, “you need rest. You’re underweight, and your blood pressure is higher than I’d like. Stress can make things harder on you. I know circumstances may be complicated, but you need somewhere safe and stable.”
Somewhere safe.
I looked at the ceiling.
There had never been much of that in my life.
After the exam, Helen gave me a small packet of crackers and insisted I eat them before leaving. I sat in a private consultation room with a blanket over my lap while Damon stood near the door, speaking quietly into his phone.
“No police report unless Emma wants one,” he said. “Make sure Mrs. Caldwell cannot access the staff quarters before we arrive. Quietly, Marcus. I mean it.”
He ended the call and turned.
“You heard that?”
“Yes.”
His expression was careful. “I should have asked before making arrangements.”
“You should have.”