28. Ella

28

ELLA

I wake with a gasp, sweat clinging to my skin. My head throbs like a drum, and a wave of nausea hits me like a rogue wave. Ugh.

To top it off, it's raining. And not just a gentle drizzle, but a full-blown deluge. Normally, weather like this is my version of a perfect day. From the windows beside my bed, I can see the sky completely overcast, as if God was handed a paintbrush and a palette of gray and decided to throw a melancholic masterpiece. It's pretty dramatic, if I'm being honest.

I groan and press my palms into my eyes, willing away the dizziness. I throw back the covers and swing my legs over the side of the bed, wincing at the cold shock of the wooden floor against my bare feet. I pad over to the window, wrapping my arms around myself for warmth. The city below is a gray blur, rain washing away any semblance of color or joy. "Looks like someone spilled their morning coffee all over the sky," I comment dryly, trying to find amusement in the dreariness.

I'd give anything to curl up under a soft quilt with a hot beverage and reread Jane Eyre for the hundredth time. But no, today's schedule has other ideas.

With a sigh that could rival the tempest outside, I shuffle to the bathroom, wincing as my bare feet patter over the cold floor. I catch a glimpse of my disheveled reflection and think, Yeah, Rochester would definitely run the other way.

After a quick shower, I throw on some comfortable clothes and head to the kitchen. The coffee machine gurgles happily, blissfully unaware of my reluctance. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee almost tempts me to abandon my plans, but the thought of the python—and not just any python but a scantily clad, make-up loaded python—brings me back to reality.

I take a sip of coffee and grimace. It's stronger than usual, but I'll need it. Who thought this was a good idea? Oh, right, me. With the enthusiasm of a snail on a treadmill, I gather my things, mentally preparing myself for what's to come.

My stomach rumbles, and a craving hits me so hard it almost hurts. Oat milk latte… a big spinach salad with avocado and chickpeas. The mental image makes my mouth water, but a second later, bile rises in my throat. I swallow hard, my heart pounding a panicked rhythm in my chest. This isn't right.

I force myself to sit down on a chair, suddenly thankful that Marcus and Lily are both asleep. My fingers trace the engravings on the kitchen table in front of me.

I'm late. Two weeks late. And it's not like me to be careless, but every time I think about picking up a test, a cold dread settles in my stomach. "Denial. it's not just a river in Egypt," I quip, trying to lighten the mood. But the joke falls flat.

I glance at the calendar over the fridge. I know I should just do it, find out for sure, but the fear of disappointment is crippling. What if it's just stress, or some weird hormonal glitch? Maybe I'm just turning into a werewolf.

Suddenly, my phone rings, shattering the silence. I jump, my heart leaping to my throat. It's the doctor's office. My fingers tremble as I answer, my voice barely above a whisper. "Hello?"

"Hi, Ella? This is Dr. Foster's office calling with your test results."

My breath hitches. Okay, here it is, the moment of truth.

Should it matter so much? Maybe not. But maybe yes, because I have wanted to be a mother for as long as I can remember. I have ached for the purpose, the fulfillment, and the sheer unfiltered, limitless love it will bring. If only.

I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing myself for the worst. "Okay," I manage to say, my voice barely audible.

"Your HCG levels are elevated, which means…" The nurse pauses, and I can hear the smile in her voice. "Congratulations, Ella. You're pregnant."

The world seems to tilt on its axis. I'm pregnant. A wave of emotions crashes over me—joy, disbelief, terror. Tears well up in my eyes, hot and stinging. I'm going to be a mom . "Well, this is unexpected," I blurt out, my voice thick with emotion. "Guess I won't be needing that gym membership, after all."

I wipe away the tears with the back of my hand, a nervous laugh escaping my lips. "I'm pregnant," I whisper to myself, the word feeling foreign and surreal. A smile spreads across my face, a warmth blooming in my chest. I'm going to be a mother.

"Thank you," I whisper, my voice thick with emotion. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome, Ella. The doctor will want to schedule a follow-up to discuss next steps and ensure everything is progressing well. Can I book that for you now?"

I nod, then realize she can't see me. "Yes, please. That would be great."

We set a date and time, and I hang up, the phone slipping from my grasp onto the table. I sit back, staring at the ceiling, my hand drifting to my belly. Pregnant. I'm going to have a baby. A fresh surge of happiness floods through me.

It is fleeting.

"Good God," I groan, dropping my face between my palms. "How will I do this?"

I'm not just Ella, the woman with the ordinary life. I have a secret identity, a life filled with danger. And now, I'm a target. They'll come after me, use my child as leverage.

I clutch the phone, my knuckles white. I have to protect my baby. I have to keep us both safe. But how? How do I?—

As if on cue, a message alert chimes on my phone. It's from Vanessa. I swallow hard, my heart pounding a war drum in my chest. "Speak of the devil," I mutter, bracing myself for whatever news she's about to drop.

It's best if I slip out before Marcus or Lily finds me hiding in the kitchen. I'm not in a great emotional state, and the enormity of what I'm handling, and what I'm about to face—it'll make it all that more hard to hide these many things from Marcus. I don't enjoy the secrets. I just know they are necessary.

I glance at the clock. It's almost 8 a.m., and I need to get moving. Grabbing my phone, I call a cab to take me to the cafe. The rain is still coming down hard as I step outside, the wet pavement gleaming under the streetlights. The cab arrives, and I slide into the backseat, giving the driver the address.

The ride to the cafe takes us along Ocean Drive. The view, even shrouded in rain, is breathtaking. Waves crash against the rocks, sending up sprays of white foam, while the ocean stretches out endlessly, a dark and restless expanse under the gray sky. I watch the scene unfold outside the window, trying to calm my nerves and stomach. The cab's heater hums softly, creating a cocoon of warmth that contrasts with the storm raging outside.

We finally arrive at the cafe, its welcoming glow a beacon in the dreary morning. I thank the driver and step out, the rain immediately soaking through my coat. Pushing open the door, I'm greeted by the comforting scents of coffee and freshly baked pastries.

The cafe, quaint and charming, is nearly empty. I choose a corner table by the window where I can watch the rain and wait for Vanessa. Time passes, and my stomach growls, the earlier nausea replaced by hunger. I order a simple salad, trying to keep it light and easy to digest. The waitress brings it over quickly, and I start picking at it, my mind racing with thoughts of the impending conversation.

The door swings open, and Vanessa strides in. She's dressed to the nines in designer clothes, her face heavily made up, looking like she's heading to a high-society event rather than an early morning breakfast. She draws stares from the other patrons, her presence a stark contrast to the cozy atmosphere of the cafe.

She spots me and makes her way over, her heels clicking sharply on the wooden floor. She sits down across from me, barely acknowledging my presence as she waves the waitress over and orders a full breakfast spread—pancakes, bacon, creamy scrambled eggs, the works. It's an indulgent and ostentatious display, so typical of Vanessa.

"So," she says, finally turning her attention to me. "You wanted to meet."

"I did." I keep my voice steady, my eyes locked on hers. "I wanted to ask if you're the one who's been sending me those threats."

Her smile is thin and cold. "Why, Ella, whatever do you mean?"

The waitress arrives with her order, and I watch as Vanessa digs in with gusto. The food looks delicious but over-the-top—each dish an extravagant creation designed to impress. She eats like a glutton, shoveling spoon after spoon into her mouth with little regard for manners. My stomach churns again, but I force myself to stay composed.

"You know exactly what I mean," I say, my voice firmer. "The messages. The threats. Are they from you?"

Vanessa dabs at her lips with a napkin, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh, Ella. Always so direct. But yes, let's get to the point, shall we?"

She reaches into her bag and pulls out a magazine, flipping it open to a page featuring an article about Verity Vixen. The headline reads, Meddling Vigilante or Hero? The Troubling Escapades of Verity Vixen.

Vanessa reads a few lines out loud, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "‘Verity Vixen, the vigilante, has been interfering in private matters, wreaking havoc on the lives of those she deems unworthy. Her actions have led to broken engagements, public humiliations, and more. Many would label her a hero—but therein lies the conundrum. Is it really heroic to take the arms of the law into one's own hands and belt out a form of justice that is, at best, twisted?'" Her eyes gleam. "Does the name sound familiar?"

I clench my fists under the table. "What's your point, Vanessa?"

She closes the magazine with a flourish, leaning forward. "My point, dear Ella, is that I know who you are. And I know exactly what you've been up to."

My heart pounds in my chest. "What do you want?"

Vanessa's smile widens, a predatory gleam in her eyes. "I want you to leave Marcus and vacate the manor. Immediately. Or else I'll make sure everyone knows about Verity Vixen and her little escapades."

I feel a cold dread settle over me. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, I'm very serious," she replies, leaning back and taking a sip of her coffee. "Think about it, Ella. Do you really want all of this to come crashing down around you? Your secret identity exposed, your reputation ruined, and your precious baby…" She trails off, letting the implication hang in the air. She looks at my blanched expression and laughs like a proper villain. "You're not the only one with a propensity for snooping around, darling."

I swallow hard, fighting the rising tide of panic. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I can," Vanessa says simply, her eyes cold and calculating. "And because I want what's mine. Marcus is mine. The manor is mine. And I won't let some meddling nanny with a hero complex take it away from me."

I stare at her, my mind racing. I have to protect my baby, but I can't just abandon Marcus and the others. They've become my family. The best option would be to buy some time for myself, and the only way to do that is to step back, even if it's just for a little while. My heart aches at the thought of leaving them, but I know Vanessa won't hesitate to follow through on her threats.

"What will it be, Ella?" Vanessa asks, her voice soft and menacing. "Are you going to do the smart thing and leave? Or will you force my hand?"

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I have to be strong, not just for me, but for my baby. "Fine," I say quietly. "I'll leave."

Vanessa's smile is triumphant. "Good. I knew you'd see reason."

She wipes her plate clean, stands up with a graceless wobble, and strides out of the cafe with the damned confidence of someone who knows the ball is in their court.

My head hurts as I call another cab back to Marcus's. Inside, the leather all but swallows me whole as I dial Theo's number first, my fingers trembling as I hold the phone to my ear. He picks up on the second ring.

"Ella? Everything okay?" His voice is laced with concern.

"No," I manage to say, my voice cracking. "Can you come to Marcus's place? I need to talk to all of you."

"I'll be there," he replies without hesitation.

Next, I call Will and then Ethan, each conversation short and filled with a heavy silence. They sense something is wrong but don't press me for details. They just promise to be there.

Once I reach the manor, I go straight to the kitchen. I know Marcus will come there when he hears the others arriving. I don't have it in me to call him down. It's almost cowardly, but it is what it is.

I sit at the kitchen table, staring blankly at the rain-streaked window, my mind a chaotic swirl of fear and sorrow. When I hear the front door open, I know it's time.

Theo, Will, and Ethan file into the kitchen, their faces etched with worry. Just like I'd thought, Marcus joins us, Lily in his arms, her tiny face brightening when she sees me. The sight of her innocent smile nearly breaks me.

"What's going on, Ella?" Marcus asks, his voice steady but his eyes betraying his anxiety.

I take a deep breath, trying to find the words. "I… I have to leave."

"What?" Theo's voice is sharp with disbelief. "Why?"

"It's complicated," I say, my throat tightening. "I can't stay here. It's not safe."

"Not safe? What are you talking about?" Ethan steps closer, confused.

"I've received threats," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper, "and I can't put you all in danger because of me."

Will frowns, crossing his arms. "What kind of threats?"

"Someone knows things about me, things that could hurt all of you if I stay," I say, my voice breaking. "And they've made it clear that if I don't leave, they'll make all of our lives miserable."

Marcus's grip tightens around Lily. "Ella, you don't have to do this. We can protect you."

"I can't risk it," I reply, tears spilling down my cheeks. "I can't risk your lives. Or Lily's."

Lily's gaze shifts from Marcus to me, her little brow furrowing in confusion. "Ella?"

"I'm so sorry," I whisper, my heart shattering, "but I have to go. I have a friend's place I can stay at for a while."

"No," Theo says firmly. "You can't just leave us. We'll figure this out together."

"I wish I could stay," I say, my voice trembling, "but it's not fair to any of you. You've all been so wonderful to me, but I can't put you in harm's way."

"Ella, please," Ethan entreats me. It's the first I've heard him say please—and God, I hope it will be the last because it breaks my heart. "We need you. Lily needs you."

Lily's lower lip trembles, and she starts to cry, reaching out her tiny arms toward me. "Ella stay!"

Her sobs are like a knife to my heart. I rush over and take her from Marcus, holding her close as she buries her face in my shoulder, her cries muffled against my neck.

"I'm so sorry, sweet girl," I whisper, kissing the top of her head. "I love you so much. But I have to go."

Lily's sobs only intensify, her little body shaking with the force of her cries. Marcus's eyes are blazing as he watches us, his jaw clenched tightly.

"I wish there were another way," I say, my voice breaking. "But trust that I do not say this lightly—right now, this is the only way."

Theo, Will, and Ethan are silent. I hand Lily back to Marcus, my arms feeling unbearably empty the moment she's no longer in them.

"Ella, please reconsider," Will says quietly. "We can find a way to keep you safe."

I shake my head, unable to look any of them in the eye. "I've made up my mind. It's the only way."

Marcus steps forward, his eyes pleading. "Ella, don't do this. We need you. Lily needs you."

I take a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill over. "I'm doing this because I love you all. I can't bear the thought of anything happening to you because of me."

Lily's sobs are now a full-blown wail, and it takes everything in me not to break down completely. I turn and head toward the door, each step feeling like a lead weight dragging me down.

Theo's voice is like a knife. "At least tell us why, Ella. You're being a coward right now."

My shoulders stiffen, but he's right, really. "I can't," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "I can't."

I open the door, the rain outside mirroring the storm inside me. As I step out, Lily's cries follow me, a haunting echo of the love and life I'm leaving behind.