32
“I can’t do anything about it,” I mutter, frowning as I watch her cry, my mind still on my discussion with Angelina, my knuckles still aching.
“Three days at most,” she weeps, her hands cradling her stomach as though she could contain the baby, stop it from making its way into the world, despite its due date. “Then I’ll be under his control again, Fal.”
“It won’t matter,” I scowl. “Angelina’s under his control and living under my roof. She’s been unable to undermine or harm me. Whatever his plan is, he’s playing a long game.”
“How?” She sniffs.
“How, what?”
“How is she still here when he could order her tomorrow to poison you, or stab you, or throw your mother from a window?”
“She’s contained,” I snap. “And I won’t let him order you to do anything either, Sophie.”
I don’t add that I couldn’t imagine Angie doing any of the above.
“He’ll order me to return,” she sobs, “and if I don’t he’ll make me hurt myself or the baby.”
I grip my nose between my fingers and try to sort my thoughts.
“What if you send him his heir?”
“I already thought of that,” she snaps, “but if I’m not breastfeeding his son what use am I to him? He’d just as soon kill me as look at me.”
‘It’s news to me that she’s considered sending the baby away, and food for thought. It wasn’t part of our plan. What else is she considering that hasn’t been discussed?’
“I don’t think so,” I scowl. “He married you to thwart me, and me keeping you here will only cement his conviction that I care for you and that he’s pained me by taking you.”
“And do you,” she whispers. “Do you care for me, Fal?”
“We said all along you’d have to return to him. Just for a short time at least,” I remind her, ignoring her question. “I can’t kill him without help from the inside. That’s your role, Sophie.”
“Yes,” she nods, “and we said I’d be out from under hupotasso and carrying your child. But I’m so afraid, Fal. I’m so afraid I won’t be able to conceive before I’m forced back.”
“Why would you fear that?” I glare at her.
“You know why.”
Clenching my fists, I turn and leave the room before I say something I’ll regret.
I hadn’t told Sophie that Angie hadn’t conceived. In all our conversations I’d assured her our plan was progressing and she should simply concentrate on her own pregnancy.
Somewhere in my house someone is talking.
Someone is intimating I can’t father a child.
Taking my phone from my pocket as I stalk the corridor towards my study, I dial my head guard.
“Yes, My Lord?”
“Kill all the staff.”